I had proved my case. My uncle was a villain. He had taken three hundred dollars from my cash—not enough to make me look like a defaulter—for the purpose of maintaining his influence over me, and to keep me from telling bad stories about him to Aunt Rachel. Guilty as I was, I made myself believe that I was an innocent man, because I was not guilty in the direction he accused me. Mr. Bristlebach returned to the room.
“I am satisfied, from what Mr. Glasswood says, that there must have been a mistake in our count,” said my uncle. “As I told you, I was confident my nephew was honest, but I was fearful, when I learned that he had been speculating in coppers. I thought, as I was on his bond, we had better look into the matter. I am perfectly satisfied now.”
This very consistent statement was assented to by the president, but my cash was counted again, at the request of Captain Halliard. I was in doubt whether to restore the three hundred I had wrested from the conspirator, but I concluded that I could not afford to expose him. We counted the cash, which was mostly in large bills, and of course I was fully vindicated. The president was profuse in his apologies, and my uncle was kind enough to take the burden of the blunder on himself. He could even see where he had made the mistake. I left the bank with him, and we walked up the street together.
“That was an awkward mistake of mine,” said he.
“Very,” I replied, with a sneer.
“But I think I can explain it.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“You seem to have taken it into your head that I mean to injure you.”
“I have.”
“You are mistaken. I am on your bond. Money is so plenty with you, that I was afraid I might be called upon to pay the bond. Bristlebach is so intimate with me that I could satisfy myself without doing you any harm. That was all I intended.”