Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 64

"Right," replied Mr. Ashley.

And so on, till all the parcels were told through and were found to tally with the invoice. Then began the packing. It made a large parcel, about four feet square. Mr. Ashley remained, looking on.

"You will not have enough string there," he observed, as the men were placing the string round it in squares.

"I told you we shouldn't, Meeking," said George Dance.

"There's no more downstairs," was Meeking's answer, "I thought it might be enough."

Neither of the men could leave the parcel. They were mounted on steps on either side of it. Mr. Ashley called to William. "Light the lantern, and go upstairs to the string-closet. Bring down a ball."

Candles were not allowed to be carried about the premises. William came forth, lighted the lantern, and went upstairs. At the same moment, Cyril Dare, who had finished his disagreeable copper counting, strolled into the counting-house. Finding it empty, he thought he could not do better than take a survey of Mr. Ashley's desk, the lid of which was propped open. He had no particular motive in doing this, except that that receptacle might present some food or other to gratify his curiosity, which the glove-laden counters could not be supposed to do. Amidst other things his eyes fell on the Messrs. Dunns' cheque, which lay in one of the pigeon-holes.

"It would set me up for a fortnight, that fourteen pounds!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed he. "No one would find it out, either. Ashley would suspect any one in the manufactory before he'd suspect _me_!"

He stood for a moment in indecision, his hand stretched out. Should it be drawn back, and the temptation resisted; or, should he yield to it?

"Here goes!" cried Cyril. "Nothing risk, nothing win!"

He transferred the cheque to his own pocket, and stole out of the counting-house into the small narrow pa.s.sage which intervened between it and Mr. Lynn's room, where the parcel was being made up. Pa.s.sing stealthily through the room, at the back of the huge parcel, which hid him from the eyes of the men and of Mr. Ashley, he emerged in safety into the serving-room, took up his position close to Samuel Lynn, and began a.s.siduously to count over some shilling stacks which he had already verified. Samuel Lynn, his face turned to the crowd of men who were on the other side the counter receiving their wages, had not noticed the absence of Cyril Dare. Upon this probable fact Cyril had reckoned.

"Any more to count?" asked Cyril.

Samuel Lynn turned his head round. "Not if thee has finished all the packets." Had he seen what had just taken place, he might have entrusted packets of coppers to Mr. Cyril less confidently.

Cyril jumped upon the edge of the desk, and remained perched there.

William Halliburton came back with the twine, which he handed to George Dance. Blowing out the lantern, he returned to the counting-house.

The parcel was completed, and James Meeking directed it in his plain, clerk-like hand--"Messrs. James Morrison, Dillon, and Co., Fore Street, London." It was then conveyed to a truck in waiting, to be wheeled to the parcels office. Mr. Ashley returned to his desk and sat down.

Presently Cyril Dare came in.

"Halliburton, don't you want to be paid to-night? Every one's paid but you. Mr. Lynn's waiting to close the desk."

"Here is a letter for the post, William," called out Mr. Ashley.

"I am coming back, sir. I have not set the counter straight yet."

He received his money--thirty shillings a week now. He then put things straight in the counting-house, to do which was as much Cyril's work as his, and took a letter from the hands of Mr. Ashley. It contained one of the duplicate lists, and was addressed as the parcel had been. William generally had charge of the outward-bound letters now; he did not forget them as he had done in his first unlucky essay. He threw on the elegant cloak of which you have heard, took his hat, and went through the town, as far as the post-office, Cyril Dare walking with him. There they parted; Cyril continuing his way homewards, William retracing his steps.

All had left the manufactory except Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn. James Meeking had gone down. On a late night, as the present, when all had done except the master and Samuel Lynn, the latter would sometimes say to the foreman, "Thee can go on to thy supper; I will lock up, and bring thee the keys." Mr. Ashley was setting his desk straight--putting sundry papers in their places; tearing up others. He unlocked his cash drawer, and put his hand into the pigeon-hole for the cheque. It was not there.

Neither there nor anywhere, that he could see.

"Why, where's that cheque?" he exclaimed.

It caused Samuel Lynn to turn. "Cheque?" he repeated.

"Dunns' cheque, that you brought me an hour ago."

"I saw thee put it in the second pigeon-hole," said the Quaker, advancing to the desk, and standing by Mr. Ashley.

"I know I did. But it is gone."

"Thee must have moved it. Perhaps it is in thy private drawer?"

Mr. Ashley shook his head: he was deep in consideration. "I have not touched it since I placed it there," he presently said. "Unless--surely I cannot have torn it up by mistake?"

He and Samuel Lynn both stooped over the waste-paper basket. They could detect nothing of the sort amidst its contents. Mr. Ashley was nonplussed. "This is a curious thing, Samuel," said he. "No one was in the room during my absence except William Halliburton."

"He would not meddle with thy desk," observed the Quaker.

"No: nor suffer any one else to meddle with it. I should like to see William. He may possibly throw some light upon the subject. The cheque could not vanish into thin air."

Samuel Lynn went down to James Meeking's, whom he disturbed at supper.

He bade him watch at the entrance-gate for the return of William from the post-office, and request him to walk into the manufactory. William was not very long in making his appearance. He received the message--that the master and Mr. Lynn wanted him--and in he went with alacrity, having jumped to the conclusion that some conference was about to be held touching the French journey.

Considerably surprised was he to learn what the matter really was. He quite laughed at the idea of the cheque's being gone, and believed that Mr. Ashley must have torn it up. Very minutely went he over the contents of the paper-basket. Its relics were not there.

"It's like magic!" exclaimed William. "No one entered the counting-house; not even Mr. Lynn or Cyril Dare."

"Cyril Dare was with me," said the Quaker. "Verily it seems to savour of the marvellous."

It certainly did; and no conclusion could be come to. Neither could anything be done that night.

It was late when William reached home--a quarter past ten. Frank was sitting over the fire, waiting for him. Gar had gone to bed tired; Mrs.

Halliburton with headache; Dobbs, because there was nothing more to do.

"How late you are!" was Frank's salutation; "just because I want to have a talk with you."

"Upon the old theme," said William, with a smile. "Oxford or Cambridge?"

"I say, William, if you are going to throw cold water upon it----But it won't put a damper upon me," broke off Frank, gaily.

"I would rather throw hot water on it than cold, Frank."

"Look here, William. I am growing up to be a man, and I can't bear the idea of living longer upon my mother. At my age I ought to be helping her. I am no nearer the University than I was years ago; and if I cannot get there, all my labour and my learning will be thrown away."

"Not thrown away," said William.

"Thrown away as far as my views are concerned. I must go to the Bar, or go to nothing--_aut Caesar, aut nullus_. To the University I _will_ go; and I see nothing for it but to do so as a servitor. I shan't care a fig for the ridicule of those who get there by a golden road. There's Lacon going to Christchurch at Easter, a gentleman commoner; Parr goes to Cambridge, to old Trinity."

"They are the sons of rich men."

"I am not envying them. We have not faced the difficulties of our position so long, and made the best of them, for me to begin envying others now. Wall's nephew goes up at Easter----"

"Oh, does he?" interrupted William. "I thought he could not manage it."

"Nor can he manage it in that sense. His father has too large a family to help him, and there's no chance of the exhibition. It is promised, Keating has announced. The exhibitions in Helstonleigh College don't go by right."

"Right or merit, do you mean, Frank?"