Seek and Find Part 19

"I don't know yet, but I will see. Leave it all to me, Kate. If he speaks to you, answer him civilly."

"I could not speak to him. I shall faint away if he comes near me. O, Ernest Thornton, I am frightened almost to death!"

"There is no need of your being alarmed. I don't think he desires to see you half so much as he does me. I will put you in a safe place soon.

Come down into the ladies' cabin for the present."

She followed me, trembling in every fibre of her frame. I left her at the door, bidding her keep out of sight as much as possible. A glance along the main deck, in the vicinity of the captain's office, a.s.sured me Tom was not there and I procured a state-room of the clerk. Going half way up the stairs to the saloon, I discovered my pursuer. He was evidently looking for me. I watched him till he had made the circuit of the long apartment, carefully avoiding him. He then went below, to look for me in other parts of the boat. He walked forward first, and I took this opportunity to conduct Kate to the saloon again, and gave her the state-room I had procured, telling her to lock herself in.

"Won't he find me here?" asked she, with quivering lips.

"No matter if he does: keep your door locked. I will knock four times by two's. Don't open the door on any account till you hear my rap."

"I will not."

"I will keep watch on the outside. Now don't be alarmed. I will take good care of you."

She closed the door, and I heard her lock it. I felt then that she, at least, was out of Tom's reach for a time, and that I was in condition to fight the battle alone. Large as the steamer was, it was impossible for me to avoid a meeting with him, since he knew that I was on board. If he had not seen me the case would have been different, and I might have contrived to keep out of his way.

I could not help asking myself what I should do. I did not expect Tom would resort to violence in the presence of hundreds of pa.s.sengers. He would fasten himself upon me, and not lose sight of me. If he had intended to arrest me, he would have sent a sheriff after me, instead of coming himself. What would he do next? This was the important question.

Of course I could not answer it. I could only wait for time and circ.u.mstances to develop his plan. As it was useless for me to attempt to avoid him, I sat down in the saloon, resolved to let things take their course.

Summoning to my aid all the coolness, self-possession, and impudence I could command,--and I found that for an emergency in which I had right and justice on my side, I had an abundant supply of this kind of ammunition,--I calmly waited the appearance of my adversary. I deliberately made up my mind to speak up like a man to him, and to stand my ground like a hero. If he made a scene, I would denounce him, and punch him with the naked truth.

Tom Thornton appeared to be making a very diligent search below, for it was half an hour before he came up to the saloon again. Most of the pa.s.sengers were out on the hurricane deck, or in other places where they could view the scenery on the sh.o.r.es of the river. I had plenty of time to get thoroughly "primed" for the exciting interview I antic.i.p.ated. As I thought the matter over, I felt that I had the weather-gage of him--that all the advantage was on my side. The will was in my possession, and subject to my order. I had the address of my uncle's London correspondent, and whatever Tom might threaten, he could not deprive me of these favoring points. I could afford to be cool and impudent; and if Tom wanted to talk, I could talk as fast and as much to the point as he could.

At last I saw him come up the steps. He was certainly a splendid-looking fellow, though he was evidently a man of the world. He was elegantly dressed, not over-dressed, and his movements were easy and graceful. I could not help thinking of these things, in which he had so decided an advantage over me. But he lacked one thing, without which everything else is vain and valueless--moral principle. He was a villain, and as such I despised him.

I could not help noticing that the expression on his face was troubled, rather than malignant; indeed, he really seemed to be more in sorrow than in anger. He saw me when he first glanced around the saloon, and walked towards the sofa on which I was seated. This time he was not savage and violent, as he had been before when I met him. He had something to think of now, and perhaps he had learned that "that boy"

was not to be trifled with.

"Good morning, Ernest," said he; and it would have been difficult to discover in his tones that he was an enemy.

"Good morning, Mr. Tom Thornton," I replied, in cheerful tones, intending to intimate to him that I was master of the situation.

"You left home rather suddenly," he continued.

"Rather; and I presume you did not think a great while about it before you started."

"Ernest, I think we had better come to an understanding," he added, seating himself on the sofa at my side.

"I know what I am about, and I suppose you know what you are about," I answered, with easy a.s.surance. "I don't know that we can come to any better understanding."

"I think we can," added Tom, very mildly. "I don't believe you know what you are about."

"Leave that to me."

"Ernest, I know what you have done at your uncle's house," said he, in a whisper, as though he had possessed himself of a valuable secret.

"So do I."

"You robbed your uncle's safe," he continued, in the same confidential tone.

"That depends on whether the safe was his or mine," I answered, readily.

"Ernest, it is no use for you to play bluff with me. You know what you have done," he added, rather petulantly; and I saw he was disappointed because he had failed to make an impression upon me.

"No one knows better than I what I have done."

"You have taken money and valuable papers out of your uncle's safe."

"I know it."

"You opened it without his knowledge or consent."

"I know that too."

"And then you ran away from your home."

"That also I know."

"I was sent for by your uncle--"

"By your father, you mean," I interposed.

"I said by your uncle," added he, persistently. "I found him quite ill--made so by your bad behavior."

"Not much," I replied, when Tom looked into my face to notice the effect of this revelation. "Didn't he tell you he had not slept nights for years; that he had steeped his soul in crime for _your_ sake, Mr. Tom Thornton?"

He started, sprang to his feet; but recollecting himself, he sat down again, and tried to recover his calmness.

"It's no use for you to tell me, Mr. Tom Thornton, that your father was made ill by my bad behavior. It was your bad behavior and his own that trouble him."

"Young man, you talk just as though you were entirely innocent yourself," added Tom, virtuously. "Do you really think you are free from guilt?"

"I think I have done nothing more than my duty."

"Then you believe it is all right to break into your uncle's safe, and take his money and his papers?"

"Circ.u.mstances alter cases."

"They don't make black white."

"Sometimes a man's hypocrisy whitewashes his whole life. Sometimes a man lives for years on his ill-gotten gains, and all the world thinks he is an honest man. Then circ.u.mstances make black white."

"You are talking of something besides the subject before us. Let us come back to it."

"No; I am talking about the subject before us."