“A thief!” I exclaimed, springing to my feet.
“Don’t be angry, Paley.”
“When my wife calls me a thief, we have been together long enough,” I added, sternly.
I took my hat, and rushed out of the room. I was angry, but my wrath was of only a moment’s duration. I went out into the Strand, and walked at a furious pace till I reached the American Agency. I wished to know the worst. If I had been published as a defaulter in Boston, I was no longer safe in London. I wished to see a file of Boston papers. I had not thought of looking at them before, because I desired to banish my native land from my mind.
I turned the folios till I came to the one which Lilian had seen. I read the paragraph again. It was very vague. It did not say that the missing teller was a defaulter; it only hinted at something of the kind, for the inference always is, when a bank officer disappears, that his cash is short. I turned over the sheet to find something more about the matter. There was nothing else about me or the bank; but as I examined the paper, my eyes rested for a moment on the list of deaths.
“In Springhaven, 15th inst., Miss Rachel Glasswood, 67 years.”
My aunt had passed away on the very day that I sailed from New York! How I cursed myself again and again! If I had not fled I should certainly have been able to pay my debt to the bank in a short time, for I was confident she had left me enough for this. I had banished myself from home for nothing. I had suffered tortures which no innocent man can understand or conceive of, and years of misery were still before me. I had made up my mind long before, that honesty was the best policy; and I even had a glimmering conception of something higher than this. I was sure I should have been happier with poverty and hard labor for my lot, if I could only have been honest.
How I envied Tom Flynn! His piety, which I had derided, seemed to me now to be the sum total of earthly joy. I do not believe in cant of any kind, but if ever a man was convicted of sin, I was, though I had not yet the courage to attempt to retrace my steps. My wife virtually called me a thief. It was only the truth; I deserved the epithet, and more than that.
I turned to the next paper. There was nothing about me or the bank in it, and I continued my search till, in a subsequent issue, I found another paragraph. The writer was happy to assure the public that the bank would not lose a dollar by the missing teller. I was surprised at this announcement, for I was indebted to the bank in the sum of thirty-eight thousand dollars. I could not understand it. I turned to the stock lists in the several papers. The shares in the Forty-Ninth had been affected by the first paragraph, but the quotations showed that they had been restored by the information contained in the second.
I concluded that the bank had determined to conceal my deficit to avoid the loss of public confidence. But while I was trying to satisfy myself with this theory, a better one was suggested to me. My aunt died on the day of my departure. Within the week the substance of her will was known to Captain Halliard. She had left her whole fortune to me, and it was to be used in making good the deficiency in my cash. Of course I had no idea how much she had left, but I supposed it was enough to satisfy the bank, or to pay the loss with the sums for which my bondsmen were liable. One thing was plain, that, if the bank acknowledged no loss, it would not proceed against me; and I realized that I was safe from arrest while in Europe.