The Vast Abyss Part 5

"I don't know, father," said Sam sharply.

"Are you sure you posted the letter?"

"Oh yes, father. No; I recollect now: some one came in on business, to ask for you, and I told Tom Blount here to take it directly. Oh!" he cried, "I say, it is too bad. Why, you didn't take it, Tom. Here's the letter, father, all the time."

He took up and held out the unfortunate missive, shaking his head at Tom the while.

"You never told me to take any letter yesterday," said Tom quietly.

"Oh--my! What a lie, to be sure!" cried Sam, as if perfectly astounded.

"Pringle must have heard me at the time."

"Of course," said his father, speaking with his lips tightly compressed, so that his voice sounded muttering and indistinct. Then aloud--"Here, Pringle."

_Scroop_ went Pringle's stool, and he hurried in. "You call, sir?"

"Yes. What time was it when you heard Mr Samuel tell his cousin to go out and post a letter?"

"Never heard anything of the kind, sir, at any time."

"That will do," said his employer.

"Row on," thought Pringle. "I hope he isn't going to catch it again."

Then as the door closed Mr Brandon, whose countenance was flushed and his eyes angry-looking, turned upon his son.

"Do you think I am blind, sir?" he said sharply.

"No, father: I don't know what you mean."

"Then I'll tell you, sir. I mean that you have told me a miserable falsehood--a disgraceful falsehood."

"I haven't, father. I told Tom here to take the letter;" and he gave his cousin a fierce look which evidently said, "Say I told you, or it will be the worse for you," and he accompanied the look with a sharp kick under the desk, which took effect on Tom's s.h.i.+n, rousing him to a pitch of fury and obstinate determination.

"Oh, you haven't, eh?" said Mr Brandon. "Tom, did your cousin tell you to post that letter?"

"Yes, you know I did," cried Sam.

"No, uncle."

"I did. You've forgotten it, or else you're saying that out of spite,"

cried Sam desperately.

"I haven't forgotten it, and I'm not saying what I did out of spite,"

said Tom firmly. "Indeed I spoke the truth, uncle."

"Yes; I believe you," said Mr Brandon.

"Shall I go and post the letter now, sir?"

"No; it is too late. Here, Samuel, come into my room."

Mr Brandon walked into his room, while Sam got down slowly from his stool, leaning over toward his cousin the while.

"I'll serve you out for this," he whispered, and then crossed to his father's room.

There was a low murmur of voices from within as soon as the door was closed; but that door fitted too closely for any of the conversation to be heard. Not that Tom was listening, for he was feeling a kind of pity for his cousin's position, and more warmly towards his uncle for his simple act of justice than he had felt for months.

Just then there was a faint creaking sound, and looking behind him, it was to see that the inner office door was open, and Pringle standing there framed as it were, and going through a pantomimic performance expressive of his intense delight, grimacing, rubbing his hands, and laughing silently. Then he gesticulated and pointed toward the private office, and rubbed his hands again, till there was a sound in the private room, and he darted back and closed the door.

All this was meant for Tom's amus.e.m.e.nt, and as congratulation; but the boy did not feel in the least elated, but sat waiting for his cousin's return, fully intending to offer him his hand and whisper, "I am sorry-- but you should have told the truth."

A good half-hour pa.s.sed before Sam came out, looking very red in the face; but when he took his place on his stool, Tom did not reach across to offer his hand, for his cousin's face repelled him, and he felt that something would come of all this--what he could not tell. Still there was one gratifying thing left: his uncle had taken his word before that of his cousin, and this little thing comforted him during the remainder of that unpleasant day.

Before the afternoon was half over Mr Brandon came to his door and called Sam, who went in, and then took his hat and went away, to Tom's great relief, for it was far from pleasant to be sitting at a double desk facing one who kept on darting scowling looks full of threatenings.

An hour later Mr Brandon left, after sending Pringle upon some errand, and for the rest of the afternoon the boy had the office to himself.

CHAPTER FIVE.

In due time Tom locked up the safe and strong-room, saw that no important papers were left about, and started for Mornington Crescent in anything but the best of spirits, for he did not look forward with any feeling of pleasure to his next meeting with his cousin. Upon reaching home he found from divers signs that company was expected to dinner; for the cloth was laid for five, the best gla.s.s was on the table, there were flowers and fruit, and sundry fumes from the kitchen ascended into the hall, suggesting extra preparations there as well.

Tom had hardly reached this point when his cousin came out of the library scowling.

"Here, b.u.mpkin," he cried, "you're to look sharp and put on your best things. It's not my doing, I can tell you, but the pater says you're to come in to dinner."

"Who's coming?" said Tom.

"What's that to you? Pretty cheeky that. I suppose you ought to have been asked whether we might have company."

"Oh, no," said Tom, good-temperedly; "I only wanted to know."

"Did you? Well, you won't know till dinnertime. Now then, don't stand staring there, but go and wash that dirty face, and see if you can't come down with your hands and nails fit to be seen."

"Clean as ever yours are," was on Tom's lips; but he remembered his cousin's trouble of that morning, pitied him, and felt that he had some excuse for feeling irritable and strange.

"Well, go on; look sharp," said Sam, manoeuvring so as to get behind his cousin.

"All right; I'm going," replied Tom, who was suspicious of something coming after his cousin's promise of revenge; and he wanted to remain facing any danger that might be threatening. But he felt that he could not back away, it would look so cowardly, and, daring all, he went slowly to the pegs to hang up his overcoat.

"Get on, will you," cried Sam; "don't be all night. We don't want to wait for you."

"Oh, I shan't be long," said Tom quietly; "I'll soon be down."

He was on the mat at the foot of the stairs as he said this, conscious the while that Sam was close behind; and he was in the act of stepping up, when he received so savage a kick that he fell forwards on to the stairs, striking his nose violently, and creating a sensation as if that member had suddenly been struck off.

"You got it that time, did you?" said Sam, with a satisfied chuckle.