THE ARREST.
There had been an indefinable something in Margaret’s manner during her
interview with the copyist, which left an unpleasant impression upon his
mind. The guilt, of which he was secretly conscious, increased his
natural cowardice. He felt that, on all accounts, it would be better to
lose no time in his anticipated removal. He had intended to leave the
next day. He would go to-day.
Acting upon this resolution, he began to pack the contents of the
drawers into a trunk. He was in the midst of this occupation, when a
knock was heard at the door.
“Come in,” he said, carelessly, without at once turning to the door.
Mr. Sharp entered, and coughed slightly, with the design of attracting
the scrivener’s attention.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Jacob; “I am quite busy, preparing for a
removal. Could you defer your business till,—say day after to-morrow?”
Our lawyer was one who never, under any circumstances, lost his
politeness. With an affability which seemed indicative of the kindest
feelings, he said, affably, “I believe I address Mr. Wynne?”
“You are right,” said Jacob, who still labored under the impression that
the lawyer was one who required his services as copyist.
“Mr. Jacob Wynne?”
“Yes.”
“A copyist?”
“Yes, but I fear that I shall not be able to accommodate you to-day,
being, as you see, on the point of removal.”
“You mistake my errand, Mr. Wynne. I have no doubt that you are a
skilful copyist. Indeed, I have great reason to think so, and do not
doubt that, if I were in need of anything in your line, I should find it
worth while to apply to you.”
“What, then, is your business?” demanded Jacob, mystified.
“I regret to say, Mr. Wynne,” said Mr. Sharp, losing none of his
affability, “that I have an unpleasant duty to perform. I have obtained
a warrant for your arrest.”
“My arrest!” repeated the copyist, his sallow face exhibiting
unmistakable terror.
“I regret to say so.”
“On what charge?” ejaculated Jacob, too well surmising its nature.
“Forgery.”
Jacob’s lips became bloodless, and his cheeks assumed an ashen hue, for
at heart he was a very coward. In the moment of trial, none could be
more craven.
“I regret to disturb you,” said Mr. Sharp, stepping back to the door and
opening it. “Mr. Officer, you will do your duty.”
An officer, who had been stationed just outside the door, now entered,
and formally arrested Jacob Wynne.
It is scarcely possible for a human being to exhibit more abject terror
than the miserable copyist, under this unforeseen blow. All his strength
seemed to have departed from him. When commanded by the officer to rise
and accompany him, he attempted to do so; but his limbs trembled so,
that he was scarcely able to comply.
“A clear case,” thought the lawyer.
“Really, my dear friend,” said Mr. Sharp, in a tone of expostulation,
“you are suffering your feelings to run away with you. You must be more
calm and collected.”
“Is there no way of escape?” asked Jacob, in a tone of agonizing
entreaty. “Oh, spare me, gentlemen, and indeed you shall be well
rewarded. See, I have gold!” and he hurriedly unlocked a desk on the
table beside him. “Take what you will, but let me go.”
Mr. Sharp’s eyes glistened as he caught sight of the gold; but,
perceiving no way in which he could avail himself of it, he assumed a
tone of outraged integrity.
“What, sir!” he exclaimed; “can you, for an instant, suppose that we
would be guilty of interfering with the course of justice for a paltry
bribe? Thank Heaven!” he continued, fervently; “my integrity was never
called in question. Through a long and varied professional career, I
have steadily resisted all the temptations which have been brought to
bear upon me. Not though your bribe were a thousand times as large,
would I hesitate for a moment. Far better poverty and the consciousness
of unsullied integrity, than wealth and a dishonored name! I have no
doubt my worthy companion unites with me in this sentiment.”
“Of course I do,” said that functionary, gruffly.
“Then is there no chance?” asked Jacob, looking appealing from one to
the other.
“Of course, if you are innocent, you will be discharged from custody.
The law only punishes the guilty.”
This remark did not seem to yield Jacob much comfort.
“I am sorry to hurry you,” said the officer; “but I cannot wait much
longer.”
Jacob rose feebly, and descended the stairs supported by the officer.
When the wretched copyist came in sight of the Tombs, his strength again
deserted him, and he became as weak as an infant. Supported on either
side he passed through the portal, and the heavy door swung back upon
its hinges.
When he had been conducted to his cell and left alone, he flung himself
in an agony of terror and apprehension upon the pallet, clenching his
hands in impotent fury, while he muttered to himself, “Margaret has done
this! Margaret has done this!”