TRUE FRIENDS
Late in the afternoon Roland went out to get a few things that were
required. Suddenly he came on a group of half a dozen girls who had just
finished putting up the decorations in the school-room. The first couple
passed him with a bow, but Cissie White, who was walking next, stopped
with her companion and shook hands with him.
"How are you, Roland? We have missed you at decorations this afternoon."
"I was sorry not to be able to come, Cissie," Roland said, "and I am
sorry I shall not be able to keep my engagement to go sleighing on the
26th."
"I am very sorry too; I should have been so glad to have gone with you,
if you could have taken me, but I was afraid you would not be able to. I
want to tell you, Roland,"--and she hesitated. "I don't know whether
people talk about such things, but I am sure you won't mind. I want to
tell you how sorry we all are about the news we have heard, and to say I
hope it is not going to make any difference to you."
"I am afraid it must make a difference, Cissie," Roland answered; "but
thank you very much for what you have said, and I want to tell you that
whatever people may think, I and my mother know that my father did not
do this thing that they accuse him of, and some day I hope to prove his
innocence."
"I am so glad to hear you say so, Roland; it did seem impossible, and
yet,"--and she hesitated.
"And yet everyone said so," he put in. "Unfortunately my father is a
very nervous and sensitive man, and the thought of such a charge made
him well-nigh beside himself, and he went away; but he is not guilty for
all that, and some day I will prove it. Will you please tell the
people--the people I know, I mean--not that my father is innocent, for
they might not believe it, but that his wife and son are absolutely sure
that he is so?"
"I will indeed, Roland, and I am very, very glad to hear what you say.
You may be sure that whatever other people say in future, I shall
believe it as you tell me. Good-bye now!" And again shaking hands
warmly, she hurried away after her companions, who were waiting for her
at the corner of the next block.
"What have you found to talk about, Cissie? I would have stopped and
spoken too, only I could not think what I should say."
"I told him that I was sorry to hear the news," Cissie said, "and that I
hoped it would not make any difference to him."
"Oh, Cissie, you don't mean to say you alluded to that! How could
you!"--a chorus from the others.
"Why not?" Cissie asked. "He knew that we must be thinking about it, and
why shouldn't I say it? and I am glad I did, for if I had not spoken
perhaps he would not have alluded to the matter, and he told me that
whatever other people might say, he and his mother were quite sure that
Mr. Partridge did not take the money."
There was an incredulous "Oh!" from her hearers, and Jane Simmonds
asked, "What did he run away for, then, if he wasn't guilty?"
"Because he is sensitive, and could not stay to face such an accusation.
Of course Roland did not say that he was foolish, but I could see that
he thought that it was an awful pity."
"I should think it was," Jane Simmonds replied sarcastically. "Of course
his wife and son say they think he is innocent, that is only natural;
but they won't get anyone to believe them."
"You are wrong for once, Jane," Cissie said quietly, "although I know
that it must appear to you to be quite impossible; but, as it happens, I
believe them entirely, and although I am a very insignificant person,
still I am somebody, and that, you see, upsets your sweeping assertion."
"Well, my dear," Jane Simmonds replied, "if you wish to retain your
reputation as a sensible girl I should advise you to keep your opinion
to yourself, unless indeed you wish to set up as knowing more than
anyone else in the town."
"I shall do nothing of the sort," Cissie replied. "Cassandra was looked
upon as an idiot, you know, but she turned out to be right. Brownsville
is welcome to entertain the same opinion about me, and I am content that
they should think so till I turn out to be right, as you will see will
be the case in the end; and now I must be off to tea."
The sale came off on the day arranged. No word had been received from
Mr. Partridge, but his wife had hardly expected that he would write so
soon; and as she knew he had some hundred dollars in his possession when
he went away, she was under no uneasiness respecting him. On the morning
of the sale she went to her brother's, Roland's plan having finally been
decided upon as the best. The day before the sale Mrs. Partridge
received a note from Mr. Johnstone saying that he should be glad to
obtain a position for her son in a mercantile house in New York; to
which Mrs. Partridge replied that she was greatly obliged and thankful
for the offer, but that Roland had quite made up his mind that for the
present he should remain in Brownsville, where he hoped to obtain some
sort of occupation.
The refusal was speedily known in Brownsville, Percy Johnstone spreading
the news everywhere; it excited surprise among some, displeasure among
many.
"I think it was wonderfully good of my father," Percy told his friends,
"after the trouble and loss the fellow's father has caused, to offer to
put him into a situation. I should have thought that he would have been
only too glad to have got away from here, and I am sure his absence
would have been a relief to us all. I can't understand his motives."
Many others, even among those most favourably disposed towards Roland,
were inclined to agree with Percy. His continued presence in Brownsville
would be a source of embarrassment and trouble to those who had
previously been intimate with him, and it did seem strange that he
should prefer to live among people cognisant of his father's misdoings,
instead of taking the opportunity that offered of beginning life
elsewhere.
Mr. Johnstone's conduct in interesting himself on his behalf was
considered kind in the extreme. Still more surprise was excited when, at
the meeting of the directors of the bank called a day or two after the
beginning of the new year, after explaining the amount of the loss to
the bank, he said, in reply to questions, that he had not as yet offered
any reward for the apprehension of the fugitive, and had not indeed
instructed the police to take any steps in the matter. Rumours to that
effect had already been current, for the police authorities, when
interviewed on the subject, had declared that they had no instructions
on the matter; but it was generally supposed that this was mere official
reticence intended to lull the fugitive into security, while they were
quietly working to arrest him. The announcement of Mr. Johnstone caused
quite a sensation among his colleagues.
"I must say, Mr. Johnstone," one said angrily, "that your course in this
matter appears to me to be most extraordinary. As you did not call us
together at once, we naturally supposed that you were taking all the
necessary steps, and that Partridge would, in a few days at latest, be
in the hands of the police; and now you meet us and tell us that you
have done nothing. You said, in fact, when we wanted to go into the
question on the morning after the discovery of the cashier's flight, and
one of us suggested that a hot pursuit should be at once set on foot,
that we could safely leave that matter in your hands, and that we had
best confine our attention to the investigation of the accounts."
Several others spoke to the same effect, and Mr. Johnstone then rose
with his usual placid and undisturbed aspect. "Gentlemen," he said, "in
the first place I have not called you together earlier because just at
this time of year every man is occupied more or less by family matters;
and as it did not seem to me that there was any extreme urgency in the
matter, I thought I would allow you to enjoy the holiday undisturbed.
Now, as to the main subject of your remarks, namely, that I have taken
no steps to secure the arrest of our late cashier. Well, gentlemen, I am
aware that in not doing so I have assumed a certain amount of
responsibility. Certainly, when I met you ten days since, I had intended
to set the police at work without delay. For the first twenty-four
hours, however, I was so occupied with the investigations into the
state of the books, and, I may say, with reassuring the minds of our
depositors and restoring confidence, that I had really no time to move
in the matter.
"Then, gentlemen, came Christmas, with Christmas thoughts, Christmas
sermons, and Christmas associations, and I said to myself, this man is
undoubtedly a thief and a defaulter. But how stands it? The man should
be punished; but, gentlemen, for the last fifteen years he has been our
friend. We have all been proud of him as a gentleman of singular
culture. Most of us have been intimate at his house and acquainted with
his wife, one of the most charming ladies in our section. In all these
years his conduct has been above reproach, and although he has had
passing through his hands the funds of the bank, he has up till now
accounted for them up to the last penny. There can be no doubt that the
mania of speculation, which is the bane of our civilization, seized upon
this unhappy man, and that in a moment, I may say of temporary insanity,
he laid his hands upon the bank funds to meet some loss, intending, no
doubt, to replace them at the earliest opportunity.
"Well, gentlemen, that opportunity never came. We know the usual sad
story in these cases. Loss follows loss, and a man becomes desperate,
until at last comes the inevitable discovery. Gentlemen, we all know
that the man who does these things should be punished, but it seemed to
me that no punishment that the law could allot would add very greatly to
that which he must be now suffering. Imagine, gentlemen, a man with
refined tastes and habits skulking, a fugitive from justice, perhaps by
this time half-way across the ocean, knowing that he can never raise his
head again in the society of honest men. There was nothing to gain, for
you may be sure that the money has long since passed out of his hands,
and I feel that it would do us no good were he arrested and tried.
Everyone knows now that the bank has made a loss; they are also
satisfied that the bank is solvent; confidence is restored, and we have
avoided anything like a run. No one, indeed, has any idea how large the
losses really are outside this board.
"Now, gentlemen, if we were to have a trial, the real amount of the loss
would become known; and although we ourselves may feel confident that we
can weather the storm, and can in time pull round, it is by no means
certain that the public will take the same view. The run which has now
been averted might then take place, and the bank be compelled to shut
its doors. And you know, gentlemen, that when you come to a forced
realization of effects, how far the sum realized falls short of the
value placed upon it, and how heavy the calls upon the shareholders to
make up the deficiency! Well, gentlemen, we are all large shareholders
in the bank, and now that ten days have elapsed, and we have kept
matters quiet, I ask you, is it worth while to run the risk of bringing
ruin upon the bank, and beggary upon its shareholders, merely for the
pleasure of knowing that our defaulting cashier has got so many years of
penal servitude?"
Put in this light the matter assumed a very different appearance. The
directors knew well enough that although they had put a good face on the
matter, the loss did seriously compromise the stability of the bank, and
that the less the matter was dragged before the public the better. The
directors looked at each other in silence when Mr. Johnstone concluded.
But one said: "The public will think it a most extraordinary thing that
we do not prosecute."
"But we intend to prosecute," Mr. Johnstone said. "It is distinctly
understood that is our intention. But facts have come to our knowledge
which leave no doubt that our cashier escaped into Canada within a few
hours of his leaving this place, and it is believed by this time he has
crossed the Atlantic. Should he ever return to this country he will, of
course, be prosecuted at once on grounds of public policy and as a duty
to the shareholders; but at the same time we have no objection to its
being whispered abroad that although the directors would strictly carry
out their duty had the opportunity been afforded, they are at heart by
no means sorry, both for the sake of the man himself and for that of his
wife, that he has succeeded in escaping before the hand of justice could
be laid upon him."
After some further discussion, the view taken by the president was
unanimously approved of, and the report that the cashier was known to
have escaped into Canada, and had made his way to Europe, and that the
bank authorities were convinced that he had managed to take but little
with him, and were not sorry that the painful duty of prosecuting him
had been avoided, was speedily spread through the town.
The unpleasantness which his former friends had anticipated from the
strange resolution of Roland Partridge to remain in Brownsville was not
experienced, for he never showed himself in his old resorts, and was
seldom to be met with in the streets. It was known that he had applied
for several situations, but without success, and that he was at present
living in a poor lodging in the outskirts of the place.
"Have you seen Roland Partridge lately?" Cissie White asked Tom Fernlea.
"No, I haven't. I have not seen him since Christmas eve."
"Have you been to see him, Tom? you know where he lives."
"Yes, I know. No, I have not been there yet. I have been meaning to go
every day, but what with the sleighing parties, and one thing and
another, I have never found time."
"Then you ought to have found it," Cissie said indignantly. "I did not
think that you were that sort of boy, Tom. I thought that you would have
stuck to your friend. I am downright ashamed of you."
"Well, I am ashamed of myself, now that you have put it so, though I
really do mean to stick to him, you know. I have an engagement this
evening, but I will get out of it and go."
"You ought to have gone a week since," Cissie said, very little
mollified. "Call yourself a friend, and let your amusements stand in the
way for ten days of your going to see a chum who is all alone and in
trouble! I would not give a fig for such friendship as that!"
"Well, you are a staunch friend anyhow, Cissie!" Tom said admiringly.
"It is not every girl who would care to stick up for a boy as you do for
Roland."
"Why shouldn't I stick up for him?" she asked scornfully. "His mother
and mine were friends, and many a pleasant afternoon have I spent there.
Why shouldn't a girl stick up for her friend as well as a boy, I should
like to know? I liked Roland Partridge better than any of the boys in
our set, and I don't care who knows it. And I say it is scandalous his
being cut because his father turned out badly, even if he did turn out
badly, which I don't believe."
"Oh, come now, Cissie, that is too much. Somebody said that you did not
believe Mr. Partridge was guilty, but I put that down to pure obstinacy.
Well, you need not look angry about it, because I like people who are
obstinate for their friends; but I did not imagine that you really could
think so."
"Why shouldn't I? I have a right to my thoughts, Tom Fernlea, I suppose,
as well as you have. Do you think that Roland Partridge would tell a
lie?"
"No, I am sure that he wouldn't," Tom said. "All the years that I have
known him I have never heard him tell anything like an untruth."
"Well then, why shouldn't you believe him now he says that he and his
mother are absolutely convinced that his father is innocent? I suppose
they are quite as likely to know the truth of the matter as anyone in
Brownsville."
"Well, Cissie, if Roland says that, he must have grounds for such a
statement. Anyhow, I will go to see him this evening. I need not tell
him, I suppose, that you sent me?"
"If you do I will never speak to you again, Tom Fernlea, so now you
know."
When Tom called at Roland's lodgings that evening he was told that he
was out, whereupon he took post at the door and waited for an hour, when
his friend returned.
"I have come for a chat," he said, "old fellow, if you will let me in. I
have been waiting for an hour to see you. I should have called before,
but you know how engaged fellows are, just at this time of the year.
However, I was determined I would come this evening, so I threw over the
party at the Dawsons', and here I am."
"I am glad to see you, Tom. Come in," Roland said quietly. He led the
way up to his room, and lighted a candle.
"You are looking pale and out of sorts, old fellow," he said as he saw
Roland's face. "I know you have had an awful lot to upset you, but still
it is of no use letting it make you ill. It is easy, I know, for me to
talk," he went on, as he saw a slight smile on Roland's face, "for I am
sure that I should be horribly cut up if I were in your position. Do you
think it quite wise, Roland, your determination to stop here? I should
have thought that you would be only too glad to be away from it all, but
they say that you refused an offer that Mr. Johnstone made you of a
situation in New York. Of course, you know your own business best, but
if I had been in your place I should have jumped at it."
"Well, you see, Tom, it depends how you look at things. If I thought my
father guilty I would go right away, quick enough, but as I am sure that
he is not, you see I stop."
"Yes; Cissie White was telling me so this afternoon, Roland. I heard
before that she was saying so, but it was not until she told me herself
this afternoon that I believed she was quite in earnest. You will excuse
my saying so, but up till then I had thought as other people do; but
when she said that you had assured her that your mother and yourself
were thoroughly convinced that your father was innocent, I saw matters
in an entirely different light. For I know that even on such a thing as
that, you would not say anything that you didn't really believe; but in
that case you don't mind my asking you why your father went away?"
"I don't mind your asking at all, Tom. I would much rather people spoke
plainly what they think, instead of avoiding all allusion to the
subject. I was away, you know, when father went, but from what he said
to my mother I imagine that in some way, I can't say how, he felt that
circumstances were against him, and that although he was perfectly
innocent he was not in a position to prove it. He is a very sensitive,
nervous man, and I believe he felt at the moment that anything in the
world would be better than standing up before everyone who believed that
he was guilty. I think that it was a terrible mistake; however, I can
understand my father, whose disposition is entirely different from
mine, taking the course he did. Now, believing as I do that he is the
victim of somebody else's crime, I made up my mind to stay here and
brave it out, in order that, if it be possible, I may find out who has
done it. How I am going to set about it I cannot tell you, but I may say
that I will watch everyone who is connected with the bank, and possibly
I may obtain some clue."
"I understand now, Roland, and quite agree with you as to your course. I
am very glad that you have told me, for before, I could not make you
out."
"Of course you understand, Tom, this is for you alone. If the real thief
had an idea that he was being watched, it would make him careful and
diminish my chances. I had rather people thought that I had stopped here
from pure pig-headed obstinacy."
"You have not got a place yet, have you, Roland?"
"No; I have applied for several situations, but have always met with
refusals; no doubt the people thought that I was better away out of
this."
"I will speak to my father, if you don't mind, Roland, my giving him a
hint of what your motives are. The old man is no talker, and I know he
used to like you very much, and I am sure he will do what he can for
you. Is there anything else that I can do?"
"The thing I want to know," Roland said, "is if anyone connected with
the bank here has been speculating in New York, but I don't know how to
set about it."
"Let me see," Tom said thoughtfully. "You know my cousin Arthur went
away last year to a broker's office there; of course he knows lots of
clerks in other offices. Now, if you don't mind my writing to him and
telling him frankly all about it, I am sure he will set to work, heart
and soul, in the matter, and maybe he will find out something."
Roland eagerly agreed, and then for a couple of hours the lads sat
chatting about school and other matters, and when Tom took his leave he
felt that he had cheered his friend up and done him service.