"God help me! What shall I do?" groaned Christie Bayle, as he paced his
room hour after hour into the night. A dozen times over he had been on
the point of going to Thickens, awakening him and forcing him to declare
that he would keep the fearful discovery a secret until something could
be done.
"It is too horrible," he said. "Poor Millicent! The disgrace! It
would kill her."
He went to the desk and began to examine his papers and his bank-book.
Then he relocked his desk and paced the room again. "Julie, my poor
little child, too. The horror and disgrace to rest upon her little
innocent head. Oh, it is too dreadful! Will morning never come?"
The hours glided slowly by, and that weary exclamation rose to his lips
again and again:
"Will morning never come?"
It seemed as if it never would be day, but long before the first faint
rays had streaked the east he had made his plans.
"It is for her sake; for her child's sake. At whatever cost, I must try
and save them."
His first ideas were to go straight to Hallam's house; but such a course
would have excited notice. He felt that Millicent would think it
strange if he went there early. Time was of the greatest importance,
but he felt that he must not be too hasty, so seated himself to try and
calm the throbbings of his brain, and to make himself cool and judicial
for the task he had in hand.
Soon after seven he walked quietly downstairs, and took his hat. It
would excite no surprise, he thought, for him to be going for a morning
walk, and, drawing in a long breath of the sweet refreshing air, he
began to stride up the street.
"How bright and beautiful is thy earth, O God!" he murmured, as the
delicious morning sunshine bathed his face, "and how we mar and destroy
its beauties with our wretched scheming and plans! Ah! I must not feel
like this," he muttered, as a restful hopefulness born of the early day
seemed to be infusing itself throughout his being.
He had no occasion to check the feeling of content and rest, for he had
not gone a dozen yards before the whole force of his position flashed
upon him. He felt that he was a plotter against the prosperity of the
town--that scores of the people whose homes he was passing were
beginning the day in happy ignorance that perhaps the savings of a life
were in jeopardy. Ought he not to warn them at once, and bid them save
what they could out of the fire?
For his conscience smote him, asking him, how he, a clergyman, the
preacher of truth and justice and innocence, could be going to
temporise, almost to join in the fraud by what he was about to do?
"How can I meet my people after this?" he asked himself; and his face
grew careworn and lined. The old reproach against him had passed away.
No one could have called him young and boyish-looking now.
"Morning, sir," cried a harsh voice.
Bayle started, and flushed like some guilty creature, for he had come
suddenly upon old Gemp as he supposed, though the reverse was really the
case.
"Going for a walk, sir?" said Gemp, pointing at him, and scanning his
face searchingly.
"Yes, Mr Gemp. Fine morning, is it not?"
Gemp stood shaving himself with one finger, as the curate passed on, and
made a curious rasping noise as the rough finger passed over the
stubble. Then he shook his head and began to follow slowly and at a
long distance.
"I felt as if that man could read my very thoughts," said Bayle, as he
went along the street, past the bank, and out into the north road that
led towards the mill.
He shuddered as he passed Dixons', and pictured to himself what would
happen if the doors were closed and an excited crowd of depositors were
hungering for their money.
"It must be stopped at any cost," he muttered; and once more the sweet
sad face of Millicent seemed to be looking into his for help.
"I ought to have suspected him before," he continued; "but how could I,
when even Sir Gordon could see no wrong? Ha! Yes. Perhaps Thickens is
mistaken after all. It may be, as he said, only suspicion."
His heart seemed like lead, though, the next moment, as he neared the
clerk's house. Thickens was too just, too careful a man to have been
wrong.
He stopped, and rapped with his knuckles at the door directly after, to
find it opened by Thickens himself, and, as the clerk drew back, he
passed in, ignorant of the fact that Gemp was shaving himself with his
rough forefinger a hundred yards away, and saying to himself, "Which is
it? Thickens going to marry skinny Heathery on the sly; or something
wrong? I shan't be long before I know."
The brightness of the morning seemed to be shut out as the clerk closed
the door, and followed his visitor into the sitting-room.
"Well, Mr Bayle," he said, for the curate was silent. "You've come to
say something particular."
"Yes," said Bayle firmly. "Thickens, this exposure would be too
horrible. It must not take place."
"Ah," said Thickens in his quiet, grave way, "you're the Hallams'
friend."
"I hope I am the friend of every one in this town."
"And you advise me to keep this quiet and let your friends be robbed?"
"Silence, man! How dare you speak to me like that?" cried Bayle
furiously, and he took a step in advance. "No, no," he said, checking
himself, and holding out his hand; "we must be calm and sensible over
this, Thickens. There must be no temper. Now listen. You remember
what I said you must do last night."
"Yes; and _I'm_ going directly after breakfast to Sir Gordon."
"No; I retract my words. You must not go."
"And the people who have been robbed?"
"Wait a few moments, Thickens," cried Bayle, flushing, as he saw that
his hand was not taken. "Hear me out. You--yes, surely, you have some
respect for Mrs Hallam--some love for her sweet child."
Thickens nodded.
"Think, then, man, of the horrible disgrace--the ruin that would follow
your disclosures."
"Yes; it is very horrid, sir; but I must do my duty. You owned to it
last night."
"Yes, man, yes; but surely there are times when we may try and avert
some of the horrors that would fall upon the heads of the innocent and
true."
"That don't sound like what a parson ought to say," said Thickens dryly.
Bayle flushed angrily again, but he kept down his wrath.
"James Thickens," he said coldly, "you mistake me."
"No," said Thickens, "you spoke out like a man last night. This
morning, sir, you speak like Robert Hallam's friend."
"Yes; as his friend--as the friend of his wife; as one who loves his
child. Now listen, Thickens. To what amount do you suppose Hallam is a
defaulter?"
"How can I tell, sir? It is impossible to say. It can't be hushed up."
"It must, it shall be hushed up," said Bayle sternly. "Now, look here;
I insist upon your keeping what you know quiet for the present."
Thickens shook his head.
"I did not tell you, but Sir Gordon suspects something to be wrong."
"Sir Gordon does, sir?"
"Yes; he consulted me about the matter."
"Then my course is easy," said Thickens brightening.
"Not so easy, perhaps, as you think," said Bayle coldly. "You must be
silent till I have seen Hallam."
"Seen him, sir? Why, it's giving him warning to escape."
"Seen him and Sir Gordon, James Thickens. It would be a terrible
scandal for Dixons' Bank if it were known, and utter ruin and disgrace
for Hallam."
"Yes," said Thickens, "and he deserves it."
"We must not talk about our deserts, Thickens," said Bayle gravely.
"Now listen to me. I find I can realise in a very few days the sum of
twenty-four thousand pounds."
Thickens's eyes dilated.
"Whatever amount of that is needed, even to the whole, I am going to
place in Robert Hallam's hands, to clear himself and redeem these
securities, and then he must leave the town quietly, and in good
repute."
"In good repute?"
"For his wife's sake, sir. Do you understand?"
"No," said Thickens quietly. "No man could understand such a sacrifice
as that. You mean to say that you are going to give up your fortune--
all you have--to save that gambling scoundrel from what he deserves?"
"Yes."
"But, Mr Bayle--"
"Silence! I have made my plans, sir. Now, Mr Thickens, you see that I
am not going to defraud the customers of the bank, but to replace their
deeds."
"God bless you, sir! I beg your pardon humbly. I'm a poor ignorant
brute, with no head for anything but figures and--my fish. And just now
I wouldn't take your hand. Mr Bayle, sir, will you forgive me?"
"Forgive! I honour you, Thickens, as a sterling, honest man--shake
hands. There, now you know my plans."
"Oh yes, sir, I understand you!" cried Thickens; "but you must not do
that, sir. You must not indeed!"
"I can do as I please with my own, Thickens. Save for my charities,
money is of little use to me. There, now I must go. I shall see Hallam
as soon as he is at the bank. I will not go to his house, for nothing
must be done to excite suspicion. You will help me?"
Thickens hesitated.
"I ask it for Mrs Hallam's sake--for the sake of Doctor and Mrs
Luttrell. Come, you will help me in this. You came to me for my advice
last night. I have changed it during the past few hours. There, I have
you on my side?"
"Yes, sir; but you must hold me free with Sir Gordon. Bah! no; I'll
take my chance, sir. Yes: I'll help you as you wish."
"I trust you will, Thickens," said Bayle quietly.
"And you are determined, sir?--your fortune--all you have?"
"I am determined. I shall see you at the bank about ten."