My first feeling on reading this was one of devout thankfulness for the Providence which had kept it from falling into the hands for which it was designed. But my wrath soon drove out every other feeling--wrath ten times the more fierce because it was helpless.

I could do nothing. I might go and attempt to thrash Masham, or I might thrash Hawkesbury, who was equally to blame, if not more. But what good would it do? It would only make bad worse. Jack's secret, instead of being the private property of a few, would become common talk. I should be unable to bring positive proof of my charges, and even if I could, I should only be putting myself in the wrong by using force to redress my wrongs. No, after all, the only punishment was to take no notice of the affair, to let the two blackguards flatter themselves their plot had succeeded, and to leave them to find out as best they could that they had failed.

So I kept my hands resolutely in my pockets when next I met Hawkesbury, and consoled myself by picturing what his feelings would have been, had he known that that letter of his and his friend's was in my pocket all the time.

However, my resolution to have nothing to do with him was upset very shortly, and in an unexpected manner.

Since the eventful morning when Jack and I had had that unlucky conversation at Hawk Street, I had not again put in an appearance there before the stated time. Now, however, that I was all by myself in town, with very few attractions towards a solitary walk, and a constant sense of work to catch up at Hawk Street, it occurred to me one fine morning-- I should say one wet morning--when the streets were very uninviting, to seek shelter at the unearthly hour of half-past eight in Messrs.

Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's premises.

The housekeeper, greatly to my satisfaction, was engaged in clearing out the offices below ours, so that I was able to ascend without challenge and establish myself at my desk. I had not been there five minutes when another footstep sounded on the stairs and Hawkesbury entered.

I had thought it quite possible he might be there when I arrived, and was therefore not nearly so surprised to see him as he appeared to see me.

"What, Batchelor!" he exclaimed, "are you here?"

"Yes," I replied, "are you?"

Why should he express such surprise, I wondered, at my doing just what he was doing?

"What brings you here at this hour?" he demanded, dropping for a moment the coaxing tone with which I had become so familiar the last day or two.

"What brings you here, for the matter of that?" I retorted.

If he thought I was going to clear out to please him, he was mistaken.

"Don't address me like that," he replied, with as great a tone of authority as he could a.s.sume. "I have a right to be here. You have none."

"Until I am told so by some one better than yourself I sha'n't believe it," I replied.

I was losing my temper fast. Masham's letter burned in my pocket, and the sight of this fellow giving himself airs to me was as much as I could stand.

Fortunately for us both, however, he did not prolong the discussion, but went to his desk.

It was evident, despite his a.s.sumed displeasure, he was very much put out about something. That something, I could not help thinking, must be my presence. He fidgeted about uneasily, looking now at the clock, now at me, now opening his desk, now shutting it, now scribbling on the paper before him, now tearing it up.

All this I saw as I tried to proceed steadily with my work. At last he brought me an envelope he had just addressed, and said in a rather more persuasive manner than he had yet a.s.sumed--

"Batchelor, would you kindly take this note round to Hodge and Company's? It is very important; they should have had it yesterday."

"Hodge's are never open till ten," I said.

"Oh yes, indeed they are. At least they expect this letter by nine o'clock. It's a bill of lading for their goods."

"If that's so," replied I, "the mail went out yesterday--you know that-- and there's not another till Monday."

"Oh, but there's a letter with it that has to be attended to immediately."

"It's not been copied," said I, who had charge of the letter-book, and was responsible for copying everything that went out.

"I've kept a copy. I'll see to that. It's only to ask them to call round," he said, with evident confusion.

I did not believe a word he said. And more than that, I strongly suspected all this was a device to get me out of the office--and that was what I had no intention of submitting to.

"If it's to ask them to call round," I said, "it will do when the commissionaire comes at half-past nine."

"But I tell you it must be there at _nine_," he exclaimed.

"Then," said I, "you had better take it yourself."

I had ceased to be afraid of Hawkesbury, or the look with which he returned to his desk might have made me uneasy.

I could see that as the time went on he became still more uneasy.

Once more he came to me.

"Will you go with the letter?" he demanded angrily.

"No, I won't go with the letter," I replied, in decided tones.

"You'll be sorry for it, Batchelor," he said, in a significant way.

"Shall I?"

"You would not like my uncle and Mr Barnacle to be told of your early visits here without leave."

"They are quite welcome to know it."

"And of my catching you and Smith going into their private room."

"Where we found _you_," I replied, laughing, "busy at n.o.body knows what?"

He looked at me hard as I drew this bow at a venture, and then said, "You must know, Batchelor, that I have a right to sit in that room when I choose. And," he added, dropping his voice to a whisper and looking at me in a most significant way--"and if the door happens to be open, and if you and Smith happen to talk secrets, there's every chance of their being overheard!"

This was his trump card! If anything was to settle the question of my obeying him and taking Hodge and Company's letter, this was to do it.

"Then you did hear what was said?" I asked.

"Yes, I did," he said.

"And you mean to say--"

"I mean to say," said he, with a glance up at the clock, "that you had better take this letter at once, Batchelor."

"And if I don't?"

"If you don't, your friend Smith shall smart for it."

Before I could make up my mind what to do--whether to feign alarm and take the letter, leaving him to suppose he still had the whip-hand over us, or whether to undeceive him at once, and defy him point-blank-- before I could reply at all, the door suddenly opened, and Masham entered.