"Yes."
"Your hand on it."
Harry stretched out his hand unwillingly, and it was taken and held.
"I shall hold you to it now, my lad. Now, then, when is it to be?"
"Oh, first opportunity."
"No: it's going to be now--to-night--as soon as it's dark."
"Nonsense, it must be some day--when Crampton is not there."
"That means it will not be done at all, for Crampton never leaves; you
told me so. Look here, Harry Vine, if you borrow the amount then, and
it's missed, of course you are asked directly, and there you are. No,
my lad, you'll have to go to-night."
"But it will be like housebreaking."
"Bah! You'll go quietly in by the back way, make your way along the
passage to Van Heldre's room, take the keys down from the hook--"
"How did you know that the keys hung there?"
"Because, my dear little man, I have wormed it all out of you by
degrees. To continue; you will go down the glass passage, open the
office door, go to the safe, open that, get the two hundred--"
"Two hundred! You said fifty would do."
"Yes, but then I said a hundred, and now I think two will be better.
Easier paid back. You can work more spiritedly with large sums than
with small. You've got to do this, Harry Vine, so no nonsense."
Harry was silent.
"When you have the notes, you will lock all up as before, and then if
they are missing before we return them, which is not likely, who can say
that you have been there? Bah! don't be so squeamish. You've got to do
that to-night. You have promised, and you shall. It is for your good,
my lad."
"Yes, and yours," said Harry gloomily.
"Of course. Emancipation for us both."
Harry was silent, and soon after they rose and strolled back to the old
house, where through the open window came the strains of music, and the
voices of Madelainc and Louise harmonised in a duet.
"One less at Van Heldre's, lad. The old man will be having his evening
pipe, and the doors open. Nothing could be better. Half-past nine,
mind, while they are at tea. It will be quite dark then."
Harry was silent, and the two young men entered and sat down, their
coming seeming to cast a damp on the little party, for the music was put
aside and work taken up, Vine being busy with some notes of his day's
observations of the actions of a newly-found mollusc.
Tea was brought in at about a quarter past nine, and Pradelle rose and
went to the window.
"What a beautiful night, Harry," he said. "Coming for half an hour's
stroll before bed?"
"Don't you want some tea?" said Harry, loudly.
"No. Do you?"
"No," said Harry shortly; and he rose and went out, followed by his
friend.
"You mean this then," he said, as soon as they were out on the cliff.
"No; but you do. There is just time for it, so now go."
Harry hesitated for a few minutes, and then strode off down toward the
town, Pradelle keeping step with him, till they reached the street where
a lane branched off, going round by the back of Van Heldre's house, but
on a higher level, a flight of steps leading down into the half garden,
half yard, overlooked by the houses at the back, whose basements were
level with Van Heldre's first floor.
The time selected by Pradelle for the carrying out of his scheme
happened to be Crampton's club night, and, according to his weekly
custom, he had gone to the old-fashioned inn where it was kept, passing
a muffled-up figure as he went along, the said figure turning in at one
of the low entrances leading to dock premises as the old clerk came out,
so that he did not see the face.
It was a trifling matter, but it was not the first time Crampton had
seen this figure loitering about at night, and it somehow impressed him
so that he did not enjoy his one glass of spirits and water and his
pipe. But the matter seemed to have slipped his memory for the time
that he was transacting his club business, making entries and the like.
Later on it came back with renewed force.
Harry and Pradelle parted in the dark lane with very few more words
spoken, the understanding being that they should meet at home at
half-past nine.
As soon as the former was alone, he walked slowly on round the front of
Van Heldre's house, and there, according to custom, sat the merchant,
smoking his nightly pipe, resting one arm upon the table, with the
shaded lamp shining down on his bald forehead, and a thoughtful, dreamy
look in his eyes. Mrs Van Heldre was seated opposite, working and
respecting her husband's thoughtful mood, for he was in low spirits
respecting the wreck of his ship. Insurance made up the monetary loss,
but nothing could restore the poor fellows who had gone down.
Harry stood on the opposite side, watching thoughtfully.
"It would be very easy," he said to himself. "Just as we planned, I can
slip round to the back, drop in the garden, go in, take the keys, get
the money, lock up again, and go and hang up the keys. Yes; how easy
for any one who knows, and how risky it seems for him to leave his place
like that. But then it is people's want of knowledge which forms the
safest lock."
"Yes," he said, after a pause, as he stood there in profound ignorance
of the fact that the muffled-up figure which had taken Crampton's
attention was in a low dark doorway, watching his every movement. "Yes;
it would be very easy; and in spite of all your precious gloss, Master
Victor Pradelle, I should feel the next moment that I had been a thief;
and I'll drudge as a clerk till I'm ninety-nine before I'll do anything
of the kind."
He thrust his hands into his pockets and turned off down by the harbour
side, and hardly had he reached the water when Pradelle walked slowly up
to the front of the house, noted the positions of those within by taking
his stand just beneath the arched doorway opposite, and so close to the
watcher that they nearly touched.
The next moment Pradelle had passed on.
"I knew he hadn't the pluck," he muttered bitterly. "A contemptible
hound! Well, he shall see."
Without a moment's hesitation, and as if he were quite at home about the
place, Pradelle went round to the narrow back lane and stood by the gate
leading down the steps into the yard. As he pressed the gate it gave
way, and he could see that the doorway into the glazed passage was open,
for the light in the hall shone through.
There was no difficulty at all; and after a moment's hesitation he
stepped lightly down, ready with an excuse that he was seeking Harry, if
he should meet any one; but the excuse was not needed. He walked softly
and boldly into the passage, turned to his right, and entered the back
room, which acted as Van Heldre's private office and study. The keys
lay where he knew them to be--in a drawer, which he opened and took them
out, and then walked straight along the glazed passage to the office.
The door yielded to the key, and he entered. The inner office was
locked, but that was opened by a second key, and the safe showed dimly
by the reflected lights which shone through the barred window.
"How easy these things are!" said Pradelle to himself, as he unlocked
the safe; "enough to tempt a man to be a burglar."
The iron door creaked faintly as he drew it open, and then began to feel
about hastily, and with the perspiration streaming from his forehead.
Books in plenty, but no notes.
With an exclamation of impatience, he drew out a little match-box,
struck a light, and saw that there was an iron drawer low down. The
flame went out, but he had seen enough, and stooping he dragged out the
drawer, thrust in his hand, which came in contact with a leaden paper
weight, beneath which, tied round with tape, was a bundle of notes.
"Hah!" he muttered with a half laugh, "I can't stop to count you. Yes,
I must, or they'll miss 'em. It's tempting though. Humph! tied both--"
_Thud_!
One heavy blow on the back of Victor Pradelle's head which sent him
staggering forward against the door of the safe: then he felt in a
confused, half-stunned way that something had been snatched from his
hand. A dead silence followed, during which his head swam, but he had
sufficient sense left to totter across the outer office, and along the
passage to the garden yard.
How he got outside into the little lane he could not afterwards
remember, his next recollection being of sitting down on the steps by
the water-side bathing his face.
Five minutes before Harry Vine had been in that very spot, from which he
turned to go home.
"Let him say what he likes," muttered the young man; "I must have been
mad to listen to him. Why--"
Harry Vine stopped short, for a thought had struck him like a flash.
How it was--why he should have such a suspicion he could not tell; but a
terrible thought had seemed to burn into his brain. Then he felt
paralysed as he shivered, and uttering an ejaculation full of rage and
anger, he started off at a run towards Van Heldre's place.
"Nonsense!" he said to himself, and he checked his headlong speed.
"What folly!"
He walked on past a group of seamen, who had just quitted a
public-house, and was about to turn up the lane which led to his home,
when the thought came once more.
"Curse him!" he said, half aloud, "I'd sooner kill him," and hurrying
back, he made straight for the lane behind Van Heldre's.
The gate yielded, he stepped down quickly into the yard, walked to the
open door, looked to the right toward the hall, and then to the left
toward the office. A dim light shone down the passage, and his heart
seemed to stand still. The office door was open, and without hesitation
he turned down the passage panting with horror, as he felt that his
suspicions were confirmed. He crossed the outer room, the inner door
was shut, and entering he paused for a moment.
"Vic!" he whispered harshly.
All was still.
Trembling now with agitation, he was rapidly crossing to the safe when
he stepped on something which gave beneath his feet, and he nearly fell
headlong.
Recovering himself, he stooped down to pick up the heavy ebony ruler
used by old Crampton, and polished by rubs of his coat-tail till it
shone.
Harry felt giddy now with excitement, but he went to the safe door, felt
that it was swung open, and groaning to himself, "Too late, too late!"
he bent his head and felt for the drawer.
Empty!
"You scoundrel!" he groaned; "but he shall give up every note, and--"
Once more he felt as if paralysed, for as he turned from the safe he
knew that he was not alone in the office.
Caught in the act! Burglary--the open safe--the notes gone, who would
believe in his innocence?
He could think of nothing else, as he heard Van Heldre's voice in the
darkness--one fierce angry utterance--"Who's there?"
"He does not know me," flashed through Harry Vine's brain.
"You villain!" cried Van Heldre, springing at him.
It was the instinctive act of one smitten by terror, despair, shame, and
the desire to escape--a mad act, but prompted by the terrible position.
As Van Heldre sprang at him and grasped at his breast, Harry Vine struck
with all his might, the heavy ruler fell with a sickening crash upon the
unguarded head, he felt a sudden tug, and with a groan his father's
friend sank senseless on the floor.
For one moment Harry Vine stood bending over his victim; then uttering a
hoarse sigh, he leaped over the body and fled.