"What have you to say to it?"
"That it is false from beginning to end."
"You deny, in fact, ever having been at this safe, or in this room?"
"Most certainly."
They all looked grave, and Mr Merrett said, solemnly, "I am sorry to
hear you deny it, Batchelor. If you had made a full confession we
should have been disposed to deal more leniently with you."
"I never did it--it's all false!" I cried, suddenly losing all self-
control. "You know it's false; it's a plot to ruin me and Jack."
"Silence, sir!" said Mr Merrett, sternly.
"I won't be silent," I shouted; "I never deceived you, and yet you go
and believe what this miserable--"
Mr Merrett touched his bell angrily; but before any one answered it Mr
Barnacle had looked up.
The junior partner had been silent all this time, an attentive but
impassive listener to all that had passed. Once or twice during
Hawkesbury's story he had darted a quick glance at the speaker, and once
or twice during my indignant protest his brows had knit, as it seemed,
in anger. Mr Barnacle had always had the reputation of being the
sterner of the two partners, and now, as he abruptly joined in the
conversation, I felt as if it boded very little good for me.
"One moment," said he to Mr Merrett; "there are a few more questions we
should ask, I think. Batchelor, you are doing yourself no good by this
noise," he added, turning to me.
He was right, and I saw it. I quieted down with an effort, and wondered
what was coming next.
Wallop appeared at the door in answer to the bell, and was told he was
not wanted. Then Mr Barnacle turned to Hawkesbury and asked, "What
brought you here so early as a quarter to nine, Hawkesbury?"
This question surprised Hawkesbury as much as it delighted me. I hardly
expected to have a cross-examination in my favour conducted by Mr
Barnacle.
"I came to do some work," said Hawkesbury.
"What work?"
"I had several things to catch up."
"What? Invoices, or letters, or accounts, or what?"
"I had the petty-cash to balance."
"That is supposed to be done every day, is it not?"
"Yes; but I had got rather behind."
"How many days behind?" said Mr Barnacle.
"Really I can't quite say," said Hawkesbury, who did not seem used to
being driven into a corner. "My journey North threw me out of it."
"Then you have not balanced the petty-cash since before you went North,
nearly three weeks ago? Am I to understand that?"
"Yes," said Hawkesbury.
"Is this the first morning you have come here early?"
"No. I have been once or twice."
"This is the only time you found Batchelor here?"
"No; about a fortnight ago he was here with Smith. I found them both in
this room."
"What were they doing?"
"They were writing something at the table. They were in a great rage
with me when I came in."
"Was the safe open at the time?"
Hawkesbury had got past the stage of sticking at trifles.
"Yes," he said; "when I came in it was. But they made a rush and turned
me out of the room and locked the door. And then when I came in again
it was shut."
"And did you mention this to anybody?"
"No."
"And why, pray?"
Hawkesbury was taken aback by the sudden question. It was evident he
could not make his story square at all four corners.
"I--I--hoped I might be mistaken," said he, uncomfortably. "In fact, I
meant to mention the affair, but--but I forgot."
"Oh," said Mr Barnacle, in a way that made the witness writhe.
"I hope you don't doubt my word," said Hawkesbury, attempting to assume
a lofty air of virtuous indignation.
Mr Barnacle vouchsafed no reply.
"What we desire," said Mr Merrett, "is to come at the truth of the
matter, and I can only say that it would be much better if the culprit
were to make a full confession here now."
He looked hard at me as he spoke, and I did my best to stand the look as
an innocent man should.
"A cheque for eight pounds has been missed," continued Mr Merrett,
"which was only drawn yesterday, and left in the safe. I ask you,
Batchelor, do you know anything of it?"
"No, sir," I replied.
"Do you?" said Mr Barnacle to Hawkesbury.
Hawkesbury flushed as he replied, "I never expected to be asked such a
question, Mr Barnacle. I know nothing about it."
Mr Merrett evidently disliked his partner's persistency in putting to
Hawkesbury the same questions as had been put to me, but he could hardly
complain. He turned to his nephew and said, "Did you fetch a policeman,
Hawkesbury?"
"No; I was just going when you called me in here."
Mr Merrett touched his bell, and Crow appeared.
"Is Doubleday in?" asked the senior partner.
"No, sir."
"As soon as he comes in, tell him he is wanted."
Crow took an eyeful of us as we stood there, evidently dying of
curiosity to know what it all meant, and then retired.
"You two had better go to your work for the present," said Mr Barnacle;
"but understand that you are neither of you at liberty to leave the
office. Merrett, I will go down to the bank."
"Do," said Mr Merrett.
And so this first painful interview ended. My feelings on finding
myself once more at my desk among my fellow-clerks may be more easily
imagined than described.
My indignation and sense of injury would scarcely allow me to think
calmly on my position. That my employers should be ready, on the
testimony of such a fellow as Hawkesbury, to believe a charge like this
against me, was simply unbearable, and my own helplessness to prove my
innocence only added tenfold to my trouble. Oh! if Jack were only here,
I might get some light.
I hurriedly dashed off a note to him, telling him all, and begging him
to come. Yet what was the use of writing when I was not allowed to
leave the office to post the letter?
I only wished Mr Barnacle would come back from the bank, and that I
might know the worst.
As for Hawkesbury, he had shut himself up in his glass box, and was
invisible.
Presently, not a little to my comfort, Doubleday returned. Fortunately,
Crow was in another part of the office at the time, so that before he
delivered his message I had time for a hurried consultation.
"Doubleday," said I, in a whisper, "I am accused of stealing a cheque;
can you help me out?"
"Guilty, or not guilty?" inquired Doubleday, taking a practical view of
the case at once. This was pleasant, but it was no time to be
particular.
"It is a lie from beginning to end, invented by Hawkesbury to shield
himself from a similar charge."
"Oh, that's it? He's been coming out in that line has he?"
I hurriedly narrated the morning's adventures, greatly to his
astonishment and wrath. He took in the situation at once.
"Jolly awkward fix," said he. "Seen the cheque?"
"No; Mr Barnacle is down at the bank now."
"Doubleday," said Crow, entering at this moment, "the governors want
you--sharp."
"They are going to send you for a policeman," I said. "If anything
happens, Doubleday, will you please telegraph to Smith, at Mrs
Shield's, Packworth, and tell him to come to me, and also find out
Billy, the shoeblack, and say I want to see him."
Doubleday looked at me with something like amazement as I made this
request, which, however, he promised to fulfil, and then waited on Mr
Merrett in the partners' room.
However, he returned almost immediately, and said he was to wait until
Mr Barnacle came back.
It seemed ages before that event happened. Meanwhile Doubleday advised
me not to be seen talking to him, or anybody, but to go to my desk and
keep my own counsel. It was good advice, and I took it. Mr Barnacle
returned presently, accompanied by a man who I fancied must be connected
with the bank. The two partners and this stranger were closeted
together for some time in the inner-room, and then Doubleday was
summoned.
After what seemed a century he emerged and beckoned to me to go in.
"You're wanted," he said.
I could gather neither comfort nor hope from his face as he stood to let
me pass.
"Come when I ring," said Mr Merrett to him.
Once more I stood before my employers. The stranger was still in the
room, and eyed me as I entered in a manner which made me feel as if,
whatever I was, I ought to be the guilty person.
"This matter, Batchelor," began Mr Merrett, solemnly, "is more serious
than we imagined. Not only has a cheque been stolen, but it has been
tampered with. Look here!"
So saying he held out the cheque. It was dated the previous day, and
payable to bearer. But the amount, instead of being eight pounds, was
eighty. The alteration had been neatly made, and no one who did not
know the original amount drawn for would have suspected that £80 was not
the proper sum.
"This cheque," said Mr Merrett, "was presented at the bank this morning
at ten o'clock and cashed."