“You have deceived me, and led me into all sorts of vice,” cried Harry, clenching his fist.
“You are quite right. You followed my lead. I had an object, and I have succeeded. I wished to ruin you in our worthy principal’s estimation, and you’ll find by to-morrow that he looks upon you as a hopeless profligate. You have no longer any chance of supplanting me. As to Mr Kyffin, I rather think that he will consider himself mistaken with regard to you, and that you will no longer as of yore be precious in his sight. Thus you see, Harry, I have check-mated you completely.”
“You have shown me clearly that I am a fool, and that you are a consummate villain,” exclaimed Harry. “I will acknowledge my own fault and exhibit your knavery.”
“As you please,” said Sleech, in an unmoved tone. “You must remember that in acknowledging your own folly you run the certainty of being convicted of felony. I have no especial personal dislike to you, except that I have reason to believe you a rival in more cases than one, and that you have been received on friendly terms by a family who have looked upon me, though a relative, with haughty contempt. You understand me, Harry Tryon. There is as good blood runs in my veins as in yours, and do you think with that knowledge that I would consent to be cut out and trampled upon without taking vengeance when I have it in my own power?”
“Sleech, are you in earnest in what you say?” asked Harry, almost aghast at this declaration of his companion. “You are either mad or a most fearful villain.”
“You have called me so twice already,” exclaimed Sleech, in the same cool tone; “I don’t mind it a bit. Again I say, stay if you like and brave your uncle’s anger. My character stands high with him, and I know too many of the secrets of the house for him to venture to quarrel with me, even should he wish it. You see I know the ground I stand on, and I again say, take your own course. It’s really a matter of indifference to me.”
Harry dared not longer trust himself with Sleech. Seizing his candle, he rushed up-stairs into his own room. What should he do? Had he known more of the world he would have remained, and, acknowledging everything he had done since he came to London, have repeated Mr Sleech’s threats; but he did not know the world, nor Mr Coppinger’s character, while he could not take advice of the friend who, he ought to have known, at all events, if he did not, would certainly have given him such advice as a wise father would give his best beloved son. For a long time Harry could not close his eyes. At length, overcome by the violence of his feelings, he dropped off to sleep. The shutters were not closed.
It will make matters more clear if the full amount of Silas Sleech’s villainy is explained. For several reasons he wished to get rid of Harry. He had induced him to put his signature to several I O U’s, not, however, to himself, but to different unknown persons. On a part of the very same paper he had himself forged Mr Coppinger’s signature in a way by which it would, he thought, make it evident that it had been written by Harry. This made him more than ever anxious to induce the young man to hurry away from London, knowing that his flight would assist in fixing the crime on him. Mr Kyffin’s absence would assist his object.
When Harry awoke the grey dawn was stealing into the room. He sprang up. On his table was a purse; it contained ten guineas. By it was a paper, on which was written, “Take the advice of a friend, and go!”
It was not signed, and the handwriting was disguised. “He has been too cunning to give me the slightest proof of his villainy,” he said to himself.