"What a beautiful night, Harry," he said. "Coming for half an hour's stroll before bed?"

"Don't you want some tea?" said Harry, loudly.

"No. Do you?"

"No," said Harry shortly; and he rose and went out, followed by his friend.

"You mean this then," he said, as soon as they were out on the cliff.

"No; but you do. There is just time for it, so now go."

Harry hesitated for a few minutes, and then strode off down toward the town, Pradelle keeping step with him, till they reached the street where a lane branched off, going round by the back of Van Heldre's house, but on a higher level, a flight of steps leading down into the half garden, half yard, overlooked by the houses at the back, whose bas.e.m.e.nts were level with Van Heldre's first floor.

The time selected by Pradelle for the carrying out of his scheme happened to be Crampton's club night, and, according to his weekly custom, he had gone to the old-fashioned inn where it was kept, pa.s.sing a m.u.f.fled-up figure as he went along, the said figure turning in at one of the low entrances leading to dock premises as the old clerk came out, so that he did not see the face.

It was a trifling matter, but it was not the first time Crampton had seen this figure loitering about at night, and it somehow impressed him so that he did not enjoy his one gla.s.s of spirits and water and his pipe. But the matter seemed to have slipped his memory for the time that he was transacting his club business, making entries and the like.

Later on it came back with renewed force.

Harry and Pradelle parted in the dark lane with very few more words spoken, the understanding being that they should meet at home at half-past nine.

As soon as the former was alone he walked slowly on round the front of Van Heldre's house, and there, according to custom, sat the merchant smoking his nightly pipe, resting one arm upon the table, with the shaded lamp shining down on his bald forehead, and a thoughtful, dreamy look in his eyes. Mrs Van Heldre was seated opposite working and respecting her husband's thoughtful mood, for he was in low spirits respecting the wreck of his ship. Insurance made up the monetary loss, but nothing could restore the poor fellows who had gone down.

Harry stood on the opposite side watching thoughtfully.

"It would be very easy," he said to himself. "Just as we planned, I can slip round to the back, drop in the garden, go in, take the keys, get the money, lock up again, and go and hang up the keys. Yes; how easy for any one who knows, and how risky it seems for him to leave his place like that. But then it is people's want of knowledge which forms the safest lock."

"Yes," he said, after a pause, as he stood there in profound ignorance of the fact that the m.u.f.fled-up figure which had taken Crampton's attention was in a low dark doorway, watching his every movement. "Yes, it would be very easy; and in spite of all your precious gloss, Master Victor Pradelle, I should feel the next moment that I had been a thief; and I'll drudge as a clerk till I'm ninety-nine before I'll do anything of the kind."

He thrust his hands into his pockets and turned off down by the harbour side, and hardly had he reached the water when Pradelle walked slowly up to the front of the house, noted the positions of those within by taking his stand just beneath the arched doorway opposite, and so close to the watcher that they nearly touched.

The next moment Pradelle had pa.s.sed on.

"I knew he hadn't the pluck," he muttered bitterly. "A contemptible hound! Well, he shall see."

Without a moment's hesitation, and as if he were quite at home about the place, Pradelle went round to the narrow back lane and stood by the gate leading down the steps into the yard. As he pressed the gate it gave way, and he could see that the doorway into the glazed pa.s.sage was open, for the light in the hall shone through.

There was no difficulty at all; and after a moment's hesitation he stepped lightly down, ready with an excuse that he was seeking Harry, if he should meet any one; but the excuse was not needed. He walked softly and boldly into the pa.s.sage, turned to his light, and entered the back room, which acted as Van Heldre's private office and study. The keys lay where he knew them to be--in a drawer, which he opened and took them out, and then walked straight along the glazed pa.s.sage to the office.

The door yielded to the key, and he entered. The inner office was locked, but that was opened by a second key, and the safe showed dimly by the reflected lights which shone through the barred window.

"How easy these things are!" said Pradelle to himself, as he unlocked the safe; "enough to tempt a man to be a burglar."

The iron door creaked faintly as he drew it open, and then began to feel about hastily, and with the perspiration streaming from his forehead.

Books in plenty, but no notes.

With an exclamation of impatience, he drew out a little match-box, struck a light, and saw that there was an iron drawer low down. The flame went out, but he had seen enough, and stooping he dragged out the drawer, thrust in his hand, which came in contact with a leaden paper weight, beneath which, tied round with tape, was a bundle of notes.

"Hah!" he muttered with a half laugh, "I can't stop to count you. Yes, I must, or they'll miss 'em. Its tempting though. Humph! tied both--"

_Thud_!

One heavy blow on the back of Victor Pradelle's head which sent him staggering forward against the door of the safe; then he felt in a confused, half-stunned way that something had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from his hand. A dead silence followed, during which his head swam, but he had sufficient sense left to totter across the outer office, and along the pa.s.sage to the garden yard.

How he got outside into the little lane he could not afterwards remember, his next recollection being of sitting down on the steps by the water-side bathing his face.

Five minutes before Harry Vine had been in that very spot, from which he turned to go home.

"Let him say what he likes," muttered the young man, "I must have been mad to listen to him. Why--"

Harry Vine stopped short, for a thought had struck him like a flash.

How it was--why he should have such a suspicion he could not tell; but a terrible thought had seemed to burn into his brain. Then he felt paralysed as he shivered, and uttering an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n full of rage and anger, he started off at a run toward Van Heldre's place.

"Nonsense!" he said to himself, and he checked his headlong speed.

"What folly!"

He walked on past a group of seamen, who had just quitted a public-house, and was about to turn up the lane which led to his home, when the thought came once more.

"Curse him!" he said, half aloud, "I'd sooner kill him," and hurrying back, he made straight for the lane behind Van Heldre's.

The gate yielded, he stepped down quickly into the yard, walked to the open door, looked to the right toward the hall, and then to the left toward the office. A dim light shone down the pa.s.sage, and his heart seemed to stand still. The office door was open, and without hesitation he turned down the pa.s.sage panting with horror, as he felt that his suspicions were confirmed. He crossed the outer room, the inner door was shut, and entering, he paused for a moment.

"Vic?" he whispered harshly.

All was still.

Trembling now with agitation, he was rapidly crossing to the safe when he stepped on something which gave beneath his feet, and he nearly fell headlong.

Recovering himself, he stooped down to pick up the heavy ebony ruler used by old Crampton, and polished by rubs of his coat-tail till it shone.

Harry felt giddy now with excitement, but he went to the safe door, felt that it was swung open, and groaning to himself, "Too late, too late!"

he bent his head; felt for the drawer.

Empty!

"You scoundrel!" he groaned; "but he shall give up every note, and--"

Once more he felt as if paralysed, for as he turned from the safe he knew that he was not alone in the office.

Caught in the act! Burglary--the open safe--the notes gone, who would believe in his innocence?

He could think of nothing else, as he heard Van Heldre's voice in the darkness--one fierce angry utterance--"Who's there?"

"He does not know me," flashed through Harry Vine's brain.

"You villain!" cried Van Heldre, springing at him.

It was the instinctive act of one smitten by terror, despair, shame, and the desire to escape--a mad act, but prompted by the terrible position.

As Van Heldre sprang at him and grasped at his breast, Harry Vine struck with all his might, the heavy rule fell with a sickening crash upon the unguarded head, he felt a sudden tug, and with a groan his father's friend sank senseless on the floor.