Mr. Stephen Coppinger had been for some time in town, leaving his family
at Lynderton. It was not a time when a mercantile man could neglect his
business. There was a great deal to do, for confidence had been
restored in the mercantile world after the mutiny of the fleet had been
completely put down.
Silas Sleech was at his desk, and, like the rest of his companions,
busily employed.
Mr. Kyffin did his best to attend to business, but his mind was greatly
disturbed. He could gain no tidings of his ward. All he could learn
was that he had left the ship in which he had returned to England, and
had gone on board another man-of-war. Too probably she was one of the
mutinous fleet. Mr. Kyffin heard of many men losing their lives in the
scuffles which ensued on board the ships when the loyal part of the crew
were struggling to restore the power into the hands of their officers.
Too probably Harry, on one side or the other--he hoped on the loyal
side--might have lost his life in one of these scuffles. He was sure
otherwise that the lad would have written to him. One letter might
possibly have miscarried, but he would not have gone so long without
writing a second or a third time. He was instituting, in the meantime,
all the inquiries in his power, but he could not hear the name of Harry
Tryon on board any of the ships. He was not aware, of course, that
Harry had changed his name, nor that it was a common custom with seamen
in those days to do so, for various reasons. Had he known of the
existence of Jacob Tuttle he might have applied to him, and he therefore
had not the same means of learning about him which Mabel possessed.
On the arrival of the post one morning at Idol Lane Mr. Sleech received
a letter from his "respected father." The ordinary observer would have
discovered nothing in the countenance of Silas to indicate its contents.
He, however, folding it up, put it in his pocket, and forthwith betook
himself to the door of Mr. Coppinger's private room, at which he humbly
knocked. On being admitted, he explained to his principal that he had
received notice of the illness of his father and one of his sisters, and
that his presence, as the eldest son of the family, would be greatly
required. He therefore entreated that Mr. Coppinger would allow him to
set forth without delay for Stanmore.
Mr. Coppinger was a kind-hearted man, and would on no account detain him
if Mr. Kyffin could manage to have his duties performed during his
absence.
Silas, thanking his principal, withdrew, and in a humble tone of voice
entreated Mr. Kyffin to make the necessary arrangements. The head clerk
looked hard at Silas, who, though not easily abashed, let his eyes drop
before him.
"Yes; if Mr. Coppinger gives you leave, I will certainly not detain
you," answered Mr. Kyffin.
Silas was in a great hurry to be off. Quickly putting the books at
which he had been working in their places, he closed his desk and
hurried out of the office. Mr. Kyffin looked after him.
"So great a villain never darkened that door before," he said to
himself. "May it be the last time he ever passes through it!"
Under where Silas Sleech's hat and cloak had hung Mr. Kyffin saw a bunch
of keys. He had evidently dropped them in his hurry to leave the house.
"I am the fittest person to take charge of these," said Mr. Kyffin to
himself, and he forthwith retired with them into Mr. Coppinger's room.
He there held a consultation of some length; then once more entering the
office, he waited till the hour of closing. The clerks were dismissed.
He and Mr. Coppinger alone remained in the office. Mr. Sleech's desk
was opened with one of the keys. Within was a strange assortment of
articles, and among others a small iron box, with Mr. Silas Sleech's
name painted outside. There were lottery tickets, and pawnbrokers'
duplicates, and packs of cards--some curiously marked--and dice which
had a suspicious tendency to fall with the higher numbers uppermost, and
letters from dames of scarcely doubtful character.
"I have suspected as much for long," said Mr. Kyffin, "but I could not
well bring the proof home. This, however, will convince you that Silas
Sleech is not a trustworthy person."
"Indeed it does," exclaimed Mr. Coppinger; "but see what this strong box
contains. Probably if he leaves such articles as this scattered about,
without thinking it necessary to conceal them, the contents of that box
are of a more damaging character."
The box was opened by one of the keys of the bunch.
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Kyffin, "here is a letter directed to me. It is the
one I have long missed from my unfortunate young ward, Harry Tryon.
Excuse me, sir, while I read its contents."
Mr. Kyffin ran his eye over the letter.
"The poor lad here gives an explanation of his conduct, and his reasons
for quitting London. He weakly yielded to the temptation thrown in his
way by Silas Sleech, that is very evident, but in no other respect do I
believe that he was criminal. However, we will look over the remainder
of these papers, and I trust then we shall have the means of exonerating
him still further. What do you think of these papers?" asked Mr.
Kyffin, holding a sheet up to Mr. Coppinger.
On it was written over and over again the name of the firm, as signed by
Mr. Coppinger himself. Evidently the writer had been endeavouring to
imitate Mr. Coppinger's signature. He had done so very successfully.
Indeed, another paper was found containing a signature which Mr.
Coppinger declared to be genuine. It was clearly the copy for the
others.
"Now I feel sure," said Mr. Kyffin, "that Silas Sleech forged that paper
which he wished it to be supposed Harry had forged, while it's very
possible that he may also have forged Harry's signature to some of the
bills which he showed us when he endeavoured to prove Harry's guilt."
"I indeed think your account very likely to be true," said Mr.
Coppinger. "I am ashamed at having allowed such a scoundrel as Mr.
Sleech undoubtedly is, to have remained so long in my office undetected;
yet so plausible are his manners, that had this evidence against him not
been discovered, I should have been unwilling to believe him guilty."
"You will not let him escape, surely, sir," said Mr. Kyffin; "justice
demands that he should be brought to trial, so that the character of
your nephew may be vindicated."
The two gentlemen examined all the papers thoroughly, making notes of
their contents, and then locked them carefully up in the safe in Mr.
Coppinger's room. Mr. Kyffin having accompanied Mr. Coppinger to Broad
Street, and supped with him, returned at night to the office, where he
occasionally occupied a bedroom. He had been in bed for some time,
though not asleep, thinking over Harry's affairs, when he was aroused by
a knocking at the door. He heard the porter go out of his room and
admit some one. It immediately struck him that it was Silas Sleech; for
as the porter knew nothing of his proceedings, he would naturally,
without hesitation, admit him. Rapidly dressing, therefore, he struck a
light, and putting the pistol, which he usually carried to and from
Hampstead, in his pocket, he proceeded down-stairs. The person who had
come in did not go to Mr. Sleech's room; but after a few minutes'
conversation entered the counting-house. Mr. Kyffin heard him wish the
porter good-night, and say that he should not be long.
"Call me at an early hour, there's a good fellow, for I have to be off
betimes," he added.
Mr. Kyffin waited a minute, and then proceeded down-stairs into the
office. A light was burning on the desk. By it he saw Mr. Sleech
hunting about in all directions, evidently looking for his keys. The
search was, of course, in vain. He seemed to think so, for producing a
cold iron from his pocket, with as little noise as possible he wrenched
open the desk. He seized the light and looked in. Dismay was depicted
on his countenance. At that instant Mr. Kyffin entered the room.
"Wretched scoundrel, confess your villainies!" he exclaimed. "Was it to
betray an honest youth, and to blast his character through a miserable
feeling of jealousy and revenge, that you pretended to be his friend?
Confess what you have done, or prepare to be given over into the hands
of justice."
On hearing Mr. Kyffin's voice Silas dropped the lid of the desk, and
slipping off his stool, went down on his knees, holding up his hands
with a look of the most abject terror. "I did not intend to injure him,
indeed I did not!" he exclaimed, in a whining voice.
"Oh! Mr. Kyffin, you know how long I have toiled for the house, and how
our employer's interests were as dear to me as my own; then how can you
accuse me of doing such things as you say I have done?"
"Don't kneel to me," answered Mr. Kyffin, sternly; "don't add additional
falsehood to your other villainies. Expect no leniency from me. Of all
bad characters, I hate a hypocrite the most. I will make no promise,
but if you will confess in a court of justice what you have done, I may
possibly endeavour to have your punishment mitigated, and no other
promise can I make."
"I will do all you ask, indeed I will," answered Silas, "only don't look
so fierce; don't shoot me," he exclaimed, looking at the pistol which,
unconsciously, Mr. Kyffin had taken from his pocket.
"I have no intention of shooting you, but again say I will make no
promises. Mr. Coppinger will decide what is to be done with the man who
has robbed him, and so cruelly treated his nephew."
Saying this, Mr. Kyffin returned the pistol to his pocket. The round
eyes of Silas had been watching him all the time. He now hung down his
head as if ashamed to meet Mr. Kyffin's glance. His eye, however, was
glancing upward all the time. Suddenly he made a spring, and rushed
towards Mr. Kyffin.
"I will have my revenge!" he exclaimed, grappling with him.
Mr. Kyffin, though advanced in life, was as active as ever. His muscles
and nerves had never been unstrung by dissipation, as were those of
Silas, who found that he had met almost his match. The young man,
however, struggled desperately, as a fierce desire seized him to destroy
his opponent. He felt for the pistol in his pocket. With insane
satisfaction he grasped it, and was drawing it forth, with a
determination of shooting the owner, when he found his arm seized, and
directly afterwards he lay on the ground with the sturdy porter and Mr.
Kyffin standing over him.