CHAPTER IIIRICHARD IS DISMISSED
Foran instant the two men stared at each other in blank amazement as they stood in front of the big safe, the door of which had been unlocked with such startling results.
The elder man recovered himself first. His was a strong, resolute character, and it was always said of him by those who knew him intimately, that no man could grasp the bearings of an unexpected situation more readily. Croxton seemed dazed and stupefied beyond the power of speech.
“But they were there, all of them, when we shifted them the other morning, the packet of notes, the bag of diamonds, the parcel of papers. You saw them, we both saw them.”
The young man’s voice was trembling as he answered: “We both saw them, as you say, sir. They were there, right enough.”
The big financier took a great interest in the mechanism of safes; it had always been one of his hobbies. He had tried half a dozen different kinds during his business career, and in the present one he was confident he had found the latest thing in ingenuity and safety.
In truth it was a marvel, and there was nothing else like it in all the world. He had availed himself to the full of the resources of the locksmith’s art, and had contributed a few practical suggestions as to the actual mechanism himself. It had a marvellous time lock, the secret of which was only known to himself and his secretary. The time when the safe could be opened was automatically controlled by the day of the month.
For example, if it was secretly set to open at nine o’clock on June the twelfth, it would not open before nine plus six (the sixth month of the year), plus twelve (the day of the month). Therefore, it would be twenty-seven minutes past nine before the two keys could be inserted, and then only for one minute. If that time passed, the safe could not be opened till next day, and then not one minute but two minutes later.
There was a long pause in which both men were thinking furiously. Richard Croxton, recovering slowly from the shock, was beginning to realize the awkwardness of the situation with regard to himself, and to anticipate the thoughts that were forming themselves in the mind of the man who had, up to the present, treated him more like a father than an employer.
Gradually over Morrice’s countenance came that hard, grim look which Richard had seen a few times during their association together; notably in the early days when some gross act of carelessness or inattention had aroused dissatisfaction and subsequent anger.
“Well, what have you to say about it?” thundered the banker at length. When he had once come to a conclusion he never beat about the bush, but went to the point as straight as an arrow.
The unfortunate young man moistened his drylips with his tongue. It was an agonizing moment for him, and, engrossed as he was with the terrible aspect of the situation, he could not help thinking of Rosabelle and her heartening words uttered a few hours previously. This was the day on which he had resolved to confess to her uncle his love for the charming girl, and beg his consent to their betrothal. In a few seconds this roseate prospect had been blotted out, and he was confronting, not a kindly master and friend, but a stern and angry judge.
“I have nothing to say, sir, except that I am innocent, and that statement you do not look as if you were inclined to believe.”
The elder man emitted an angry exclamation, and the grim expression grew grimmer as he gazed searchingly at the pale and shaken young man.
“Richard Croxton, you are no fool, you can see the situation as it presents itself to me, as it would present itself to anybody who knew the circumstances. The secret of that safe is known only to us two, you and I alone have access to it with our separate keys. Even supposing for a moment, and it is a most wild supposition, that some third party could have gained temporary possession of your key and mine, and, after taking impressions of them, had duplicates made, how was he to know the secret of the mechanism, the time at which the safe would open. We saw the articles here two days ago; they have been taken between yesterday and this morning.” He paused and added significantly: “At that time when the safe could be opened, I had left the house early, and was in my private room in the city. You had work to finish here, and were to come down to me with the report you were preparing at twelve o’clock.”
It was difficult for Croxton to preserve his facultiesof thought as the damning evidence grew and accumulated on him. But a ray of light seemed to pierce suddenly through his benumbed brain.
“We breakfasted together at eight o’clock, sir, and you left directly you had finished. After you had gone, I went up to my own room, and remained till it was time for me to leave to join you in the city. I never during that time entered this apartment. To that I am ready to swear; I will take any solemn oath you care to dictate to me.”
Morrice seemed just a little staggered by the solemnity with which these words were uttered, and for a second the hard, stern look melted, but only for a second. His keen, logical mind at once prompted the question.
“You say that you were in your own room practically all the time you were alone. Is there any evidence you can bring forward to corroborate this statement? Did Mrs. Morrice, Rosabelle, any of the servants look in upon you during that period?”
The young man made a despairing gesture: “Alas, no. It is very rarely that either Mrs. Morrice or Rosabelle pays me a visit when I am at work. The servants are hardly ever about the house at that time. And I know from what they said that both the ladies were out very early on a shopping expedition. I don’t suppose that anybody knew for certain whether I was here or in my own room. I have nothing to offer you, sir, but my bare word, my solemn oath, if you choose to accept it. But if I am what you appear to think me, my oath would carry no more weight than my word. Again I say, much as appearances are against me, inexplicable and astounding as the whole thing is, before heaven I am not the thief who has stolen your property.”
“Then if you are not the thief, I must be,” cried the irate financier with bitter sarcasm, “though, I take it, the most suspicious detective in the worldwould hardly dare to suspect me of purloining my own money and diamonds.”
There was another long pause. Morrice walked up and down the spacious room with long strides, the stern frown on his face now deepening, now clearing a little, as his conflicting thoughts raced through his brain. No doubt to him the brazen effrontery of the young man seemed incredible, in view of the damning facts of the situation. And that seemingly feeble excuse that he had been in his own room during the time of the burglary, during the whole period between breakfast and the moment when he left the house—did it hold water?
Was it a lie invented on the spur of the moment, or had it been thought out beforehand to be produced at the moment of discovery. And yet, if Richard were a cunning criminal, would he not have taken precautions to secure some sort of alibi? The theft from the safe would not have taken more than a minute, the articles were all together, their removal would have taken no time. He could have gone back to his room, rung the bell three or four times to summon a servant on one pretext or another. It might not have been convincing proof, for the robbery could have been accomplished so quickly, but it would have been better than no proof at all.
But then the cleverest criminals made often very stupid mistakes, and he could not believe the young man to be a hardened malefactor. He had some secret vices that had never been suspected, he had got into money difficulties; in his perplexity he had taken advantage of the trust reposed in him, and yielded to a sudden temptation.
And then, in the midst of his anger and disappointment, came softening thoughts of the dead mother whom he had loved with such a passionate devotion. Could he act towards her child as if he were a strangerbetween whom there had been no tie save that between employer and employed. The stern look melted away; he came up to the stricken Richard and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“Listen to me, Dick. You are the son of the woman whom I would have given up everything else to make my wife, had she not preferred your father to me. When you were left to the tender mercies of the world, an orphan cast aside by your own family, with a small pittance, enough to keep you from actual want, I came to your rescue. I took you into my business; I took you into my house. I have not perhaps told you very definitely of my future intentions, but you can guess what they were likely to be. In a year or two I proposed to give you a share of my business. I have noticed the attachment between you and Rosabelle, who is very dear to me. I should have put no obstacles in your way.”
The bitter irony of it all! But for this disastrous happening, what a fair and golden future! The unhappy young man could not speak, but inwardly he was suffering tortures. Those beautiful dreams of an honourable and prosperous career, of a happy wedded life with the charming girl he loved so dearly—all had vanished in those hateful few moments!
“Listen to me, Dick,” went on the deep, resonant voice, and the tone was now one more of sorrow than anger. “Abandon this stubborn attitude of pretended innocence. Don’t regard me as the stern and inflexible judge, ready to mete out deserved punishment, but one who will incline to mercy, the mercy that all of us may stand in need of some day. Your mother’s son cannot be naturally dishonest, it is impossible. You have got into difficulties that I have never suspected; in an evil hour your better instincts yielded to your pressing needs, your fear of disgrace; and you did this base thing. Confess yourfault, make restitution if you can, if it is not too late, and I will help you as I vowed to your mother I always would.”
A dreadful groan escaped from the tortured Richard. “You are one of the best and kindest men on God’s earth; my mother whom you so loved always told me so. If I were the guilty wretch you believe me to be I would go on my knees and implore your pardon. But I am not a thief, and I cannot restore what I have never taken.”
But Morrice, more than ever convinced of his obduracy, continued to urge him, in tones that were almost pleading.
“There must of course be something between us that can never be quite blotted out, in spite of repentance on the one side and forgiveness on the other. I could never again put you in a position of trust, for that fatal weakness might come over you once more. But I would give you a post where temptation could not assail you. You have spoken of your mother, so dear to us both. I implore you by the memory of that beloved woman who, for aught we know, is even now watching us from afar, to quit this stubborn attitude and confess the truth.”
No reply came from the accused man, and the hard, stern look came back to the banker’s face. At that moment the door of the room slowly opened, and the charming vision of Rosabelle, looking her sweetest and daintiest, stood framed in the opening.
“May I come in?” she cried in her fresh, girlish voice.
“Come in, my poor child,” was her uncle’s answer. “Come in; something has happened that you will have to know sooner or later, although I fear the knowledge may break your heart.”
White as death at these ominous words, she advanced into the room, closing the door, her troubled glancechanging from the stern, set face of her uncle to the pallid countenance of her lover, the two men who were the dearest to her in the world, loving the one with a filial devotion that could not have been surpassed by a daughter, the other with all the fervour of her ardent youth.
It was a painful scene. In a few trenchant words, the more weighty from the cold, judicial tone in which they were uttered, Morrice explained to her what had happened. She learned to a certain extent the secret of that wonderful safe, about the protecting properties of which she had so often laughingly rallied its owner, this wretched safe which had worked the ruin of Richard, and now menaced her own happiness.
She was too much dazed by the sudden and tragic happening to do much more than grasp a few salient facts. The safe was opened by two keys, one carried by each of the two men. They alone of all the inmates of the house knew of its mechanism. That safe had been opened, and certain valuable property extracted.
“But how could it be opened by one person, if it requires two keys?” she cried, grasping at the first difficulty that presented itself to her in her distress.
Mr. Morrice did not mince matters. “If I had a duplicate key of the one carried by the other man, I could open it alone, and vice versa,” he explained.
She understood the horrible suggestion, but her heart refused to credit it. Of course she realized that her uncle would not steal his own property, that would be a surmise altogether too ridiculous. But it was equally impossible to believe that Richard, the man in whom the great financier had placed such implicit trust, to whom her whole soul went out in pity and yearning, should stoop to such a dastardly act, with all the long and sinister preparations for its execution.
She stretched her hands out imploringly to her lover. “Richard, you are no thief, nothing shall ever convince me of it,” she cried in a voice of agony. “Deny it, deny it to us both. Say something that will persuade him of the falseness of the accusation, of the injustice he is doing you.”
The miserable young man was hardly less moved than herself. “I have denied it, Rosabelle; I have offered to swear it, to take any oath he may dictate to me. But he refuses to believe either word or oath. I can do no more. Thank heaven, black as appearances are, you believe that I am an honest man.”
“Oh yes, oh yes,” she cried brokenly. “I do not care a straw for appearances, if they were twice as strong against you as they are. I know you so well, my heart tells me that you have not done this horrible thing.”
And then Morrice delivered his sentence. Incensed as he was at what he considered the obstinacy of Croxton, he could not fail to be moved by the girl’s passionate vindication of her lover.
“Richard Croxton, needless to say that from this day forth we are strangers; my house can no longer give you shelter. For the sake of one whose memory I shall always revere, I shall take no steps. Nobody but Rosabelle and my wife will know the real reasons of your departure. I am now going to the city to get money to replace that which has been stolen. I shall go there and return here as quickly as possible. I have no heart for any other business to-day. When I return, let me find you gone. Later on I will invent some plausible explanation of the severance of our relations, and give it out to those who are interested.”
He turned on his heel without vouchsafing another glance at the miserable man upon whom, up to the present, he had lavished kindness and affection, strodethrough the hall, and a minute later he had left the house.
The two wretched lovers were left alone, and when the door had closed, the poor girl broke down, and threw herself into Richard’s arms, sobbing bitterly.