CHAPTER CCI.

MR. HEATHCOTE AND HIS CLERK.

It was five o’clock in the morning of the day after the interview

described in the last chapter; and Mr. Heathcote was seated at the

writing-table in his private office.

He was busily occupied with papers;--for his was a disposition that

could not endure idleness. Even when vexed and annoyed--as he was at

present--it was impossible for him to remain inactive. Had he been an

author, he would have eclipsed Walter Scott or Paul de Koek in the

number of his works.

There was a deep gloom upon his brow and a sinister light in his

restless eyes, as he bent over the parchment-deeds which he was

inspecting; and from time to time he cast an anxious glance towards the

door.

At length be rang the bell; and the junior clerk answered the summons.

“Has not Mr. Green made his appearance _yet_?” demanded the lawyer,

with an emphasis on the last word.

“No, sir--he has not,” was the reply, given timidly--for the young man

beheld both the gloom on the brow and the gleaming in the eye.

[Illustration]

“Not yet!” ejaculated Heathcote, fiercely, and frowning in his own

peculiar fashion at the same time. “Nor sent either?” he added,

interrogatively.

“No, sir,” responded the junior clerk.

“This is strange--very strange,” murmured the lawyer. “He can’t be

ill--poor devils like him cannot afford to be unwell. But if he

were,--if he _did_ happen to be so indisposed that be couldn’t shut his

eyes to the fact,--he would have sent word. You know where he lives?

demanded Mr. Heathcote, abruptly addressing himself to the young man.

“Yes, sir,” was the answer.

“Then go to his lodgings directly,” exclaimed the lawyer, in an

imperious tone; “and if you find him at home, tell him that I am very

angry indeed at his absence. Should he be ill, you must desire him to

get out of bed, take a cab, and come to me at once to give an account

of his conduct. Two guineas a-week, indeed, to a fellow who takes it

into his head to be ill!”

And with this humane reflection Mr. Heathcote was about to resume his

work, while the young clerk was turning towards the door, when Mr.

Green suddenly made his appearance.

“Oh! you are come at last, sir--are you?” cried the lawyer, glancing up

at the clock. “A quarter past five--and the office hours are from nine

till six. What the deuce does this mean, sir?”

“I had a little business to transact, sir,” answered the head clerk,

closing the door by which the junior functionary had just evaporated.

“A little business!” repeated Mr. Heathcote, staring at the man in

unfeigned amazement: for he could not possibly conceive how Mr. Green

should have any affairs of his own to attend to.

“Yes, sir--a little business,” returned the head clerk, who, though now

feeling comparatively independent of his master could not shake off

an obsequiousness of manner, which had become habitual to him. “Is it

strange, sir, that for once in a way I should have taken the holiday

which was certain to be refused if solicited beforehand?”

“Have you been drinking, Mr. Green--or are you mad--to talk to me in

this style?” demanded Heathcote, surveying his clerk with more than

usual attention.

“I have had nothing to drink, sir, beyond a single glass of sherry--and

I beg to inform you that I am _not_ crazy,” answered the head clerk,

growing a trifle bolder.

“A glass of sherry!” repeated Heathcote, again evincing the most

unfeigned astonishment. “How is it possible, sir, that you can indulge

in such extravagances and pay for them honestly? A few days ago you

ventured to appear before me in a new suit of clothes, with the gloss

actually on them--whereas your regular office-suit had not been

thread-bare more than two years. Let me tell you, sir, that I take

note of these things: I observe the most minute symptoms of change

in a man’s character or habits; and no one can deceive _me_, Mr.

Green--no one can deceive _me_,” repeated the lawyer, looking hard at

the individual whom he thus addressed, as much as to say that he had

suspected something wrong and was now certain of it.

“Well, sir--and who has attempted to deceive you?” asked Green, in a

bolder tone than had ever yet characterised his language when in the

presence of his hitherto dreaded master.

“Who has attempted to deceive me!” vociferated Heathcote, his lips

becoming white and quivering with rage. “You, sir--_you_ have made the

endeavour--you are making it now! But it will not do, Mr. Green--it

will not do. Take care of yourself! New suits of clothes--sherry--a

day’s absence without leave, and even without the humble apology that

should mark your return,--all this is suspicious, sir--very suspicious,

let me tell you.”

“Suspicious of what?” demanded the head clerk, approaching Mr.

Heathcote’s desk, and looking steadily across it at that gentleman.

“That you were either bribed in my brother’s affair--or that you have

robbed me,” was the immediate answer.

“You are a liar, sir--a deliberate liar,” exclaimed Green, now

beginning to experience the first feelings of exultation at the

independence which he was enabled to assert.

The lawyer could make no reply: he was amazed--bewildered--stupefied!

“Yes, sir,” continued Green, his voice now losing all its

obsequiousness and his manner rising completely above servility,--“you

are a liar if you say that I robbed you! Where was the chance, even

if I had possessed the inclination, of pilfering even a single

farthing? You know that you reckon up the office-money to the very last

penny--and that if I tell you how a box of lucifers, or a piece of

tape, or any other trifling article was required, you were always sure

to say we were very extravagant in that front-office. These are truths,

sir; and therefore how dare you pretend to believe in the possibility

of my robbing you?”

“Mr. Green--Mr. Green,” exclaimed Heathcote, absolutely frightened at

his head clerk’s manner: “what is the cause of all this excitement?”

The lawyer was frightened, we say,--because his conscience told him

that something had occurred to place Mr. Green upon a more independent

footing with regard to him; and the greater became such independence

on the part of one who had long been his tool and instrument, the less

secure was the lawyer himself in his own position. In fact, when a

wretched being who had long grovelled in the dust at his feet, suddenly

started up and dared to look him in the face,--it was a sign that the

fabric of despotism was shaken and was tottering to its fall. Mr.

Heathcote felt all this--and he trembled for a moment,--trembled with

a cold and death-like shudder, as he beheld his clerk’s eyes glaring

savagely at him; and it was under the influence of this sensation that

he uttered the words which, by proving his own weakness, gave Green

additional courage.

“You ask what is the cause of all this excitement,” exclaimed the

latter: “and yet only a few minutes have elapsed since you dared to

accuse me of having robbed you.”

“A man who has committed a forgery, may very well be suspected of

theft,” returned Heathcote, who, having recovered his presence of mind,

answered with his usual brutality of manner.

“And what may you not be accused of, then?” demanded Green, scarcely

able to restrain himself from flying like a tiger-cat at his master:

“for what have you not committed?”

“By heaven, Mr. Green, this shall last no longer!” ejaculated

Heathcote, starting from his seat: “you are drunk, sir--you have been

drinking, I tell you. Come--be reasonable,” he continued, almost in a

coaxing tone: “go home quietly--and be here early in the morning to

make an apology for your present bad conduct. I promise to forgive you.”

“Forgive me!” repeated Green:--“forgive me!” he exclaimed again, with a

chuckling laugh which did Mr. Heathcote harm to hear it: “I have done

nothing, sir, that needs forgiveness--and if I was to kick you thrice

round this room where you have tyrannised over me for twelve years, it

would only be paying back a minute portion of all I owe you.”

“Mr. Green, you will provoke me to do something desperate,” retorted

Heathcote, in a low, thick tone, as he approached his head clerk to

read in that individual’s countenance the solution of his present

enigmatical conduct: “you will provoke me, I say--and then you will be

sorry for your rashness. Consider--reflect--in another month’s time the

thousand pounds must positively be forthcoming----”

“Will you replace it for me?” demanded Green, abruptly.

“You know what I have always said----”

“Yes--and I now know likewise what you have always _meant_,”

interrupted Green, darting a look full of malignant hate and savage

spite at the lawyer. “For twelve long years, sir, I have been your

slave--your vile and abject slave. I was a criminal, it is true, when I

first came to you--for I had committed that forgery which you detected,

and which placed me in your power. But I had still the feelings of a

man--whereas you soon imbued me with such ideas and reduced me to such

a miserable state of servitude, that I have wept bitter, bitter tears

at the thought of my own deep degradation. I could have lied for you--I

could have committed perjury for you--I could have performed all the

meannesses and condescended to do all the vile and low trickery which

form part and parcel of your business:--but when I found myself used

as a mere tool and instrument and treated like a spaniel, without

ever having a single kind word uttered to cheer me beneath a yoke of

crushing despotism----”

“You have had two guineas a week, paid with scrupulous regularity,”

interposed Heathcote, who, from the tenour of the observations which

Green had just made, began to fancy that he was only excited by liquor

to make vague and general complaints, but that he was still as much in

his power as ever.

“Two guineas a-week!” repeated the man, indignantly: “you are always

dinning that fact in my ears. But heaven knows that were my salary

six times as much, it would not repay me for all the cruelty I have

endured at your hands--nor for all that one is obliged to _see_ and

_go through_ while in your employment. I had some tender feelings

once: but they have long ago been stifled by the horrible spectacles

of woe and misery which have been forced upon my sight, and which

have sprung from your detestable covetousness. I have seen children

starving--mothers weeping over their dying babes--while the fathers

and husbands have been languishing in gaol,--yes, in the debtor’s gaol

where you have thrown them, and where some of them have died, cursing

the name of James Heathcote! Yes, sir--I have seen all this: and what

is more--aye, and worse, too--far worse--I have been an involuntary

instrument, as your clerk, in causing much of that awful misery, the

mere thought of which almost drives me mad. Talk of the black turpitude

of murdering with a dagger or a pistol!--why, it is a mercy to the

slow--lingering--piece-meal murders which you and men of your stamp

are constantly perpetrating. _For as true as there is a God in heaven,

there are more slow and cold-blooded murders committed in one year by a

certain class of attorneys, than are recorded in the annals of Newgate

for a whole century!_”

Heathcote’s fears had all returned by rapid degrees as his head clerk,

turning full upon him, levelled at his head the terrible charges summed

up in the preceding speech: but when these last words fell upon his

ear, he grew ghastly pale, and, staggering back a few paces, sank into

his chair,--_for he knew how sternly true was the appalling accusation!_

“Ah! well may your eyes glare upon me in horror,” resumed Green: “but

it is high time that you should hear a few home truths--even though

they come from such lips as mine. For you doubtless think that it is

all very fine to issue a writ--refuse delay--decline everything in the

shape of compromise--and then seize upon the goods of your victim,

or clap him into gaol:--but it is we who sit in the outer office--we

clerks, who can best penetrate into the effects of such a heartless

course. When we see the door open, and the miserable wretch come

in with _care_ as legibly written on his countenance as if it were

printed in letters on a piece of paper,--and when he comes crawling

up to our desk, as if _his_ utter self-abasement would be so pleasing

to us clerks as to induce us to say a good word in his behalf to

_you_,--then, when he asks in a tone of anguish which is ready to

burst forth into a flood of tears, ‘_Do you think it likely that Mr.

Heathcote will give me time?_’--it is _then_, I say, that the real

feelings of such poor wretches transpire, and the murderous effects

of the harsh proceedings adopted by lawyers of _your_ stamp become

painfully apparent.”

“To what is all this to lead, Mr. Green?” demanded Heathcote, in a low

and subdued tone: for it struck him that such a long address could

only be meant to herald some evil tidings, to which his clerk, in

the refinement of vindictive cruelty, sought to impart a more vivid

poignancy by prefatory delays.

“To what is all this to lead?” repeated Green: “why--to your

utter confusion, black-hearted old man that you are! Think of the

conversation that took place between us a few days ago: did I not then

tell you that there were many deaths to be laid to your door? And I was

right! You sent off Thompson to prison--his wife and child perished,

and he cut his throat:--_you_ are the murderer of those three human

beings! The man Beale, whom you likewise threw into Whitecross Street,

died in the infirmary of that gaol--died of a broken heart, sir;--and

_you_ were his murderer! Hundreds and hundreds of deaths have you

caused in the same way,--_hundreds and hundreds of legal murders!_”

“Green--Mr. Green!” gasped the lawyer, writhing as if he were a dwarf

in the grasp of a giant: then, wondering why he should thus put up

with the insolence of his clerk, and falling back upon the belief that

the man could not possibly conduct himself in such a way unless he

were under the influence of liquor, he suddenly started from his seat,

exclaiming, “By heaven! sir, you have gone so far that all hope of

forgiveness on my part is impossible.”

“I care nothing for your pardon--and shall not even condescend to

solicit it,” replied Mr. Green, in a tone of complete and unmistakeable

defiance. “I am going to leave you at once----”

“Leave me!” ejaculated Heathcote, who had hitherto believed it to be

impossible that his clerk could throw off the chains of servitude

and thraldom which had been so firmly rivetted upon him: “leave me!”

he repeated: “yes--oh! yes,” he added, his countenance assuming an

expression of the most diabolical sardonism;--“yes--you shall indeed

leave me--but it will be to change your quarters for a cell in Newgate!”

“Perhaps _you_ will be the first to repair thither,” said Green, with

a chuckle that seemed to grate upon the lawyer’s ears like the sound

emitted by the process of sharpening the teeth of a saw.

“In less than two hours, Mr. Green, Clarence Villiers shall be made

acquainted with the fact that the thousand pounds have long ceased to

be in the Bank of England,” exclaimed Heathcote.

“The thousand pounds are there, sir--yes, _there_ at this very minute,”

answered Green, in a tone of assurance which convinced Heathcote that

the man was speaking the truth. “And what is more, sir, Mr. Villiers

knows all--and has forgiven all! This morning did I replace the money;

this afternoon did I repair to Brompton to throw myself at the feet

of Mr. Villiers--confess everything--and implore his pardon. Oh! sir,

he is a generous man--and he forgave me. ‘_You have been guilty of a

terrible breach of trust--nay, a heinous crime, Mr. Green_,’ he said;

‘_but you have atoned for your turpitude. It is our duty in this world

to forgive where true contrition is manifested; and I will take care to

hold you harmless in this case, should it ever transpire that the money

had been sold out._’--I wept while I thanked him; and I said, ‘_But

I have a bitter enemy who is acquainted with the whole transaction:

what can be done to save me from disgrace, should he inform against

me?_’--‘_He cannot prove that you forged my name_,’ responded Villiers:

‘_I alone can prove that; and under present circumstances, I would not

for worlds inflict an injury upon you._’ I again thanked him, and took

my leave. You now perceive, Mr. Heathcote, that so far from being in

_your_ power, _you_ are entirely in mine. The other day you told me

that you would crush me as if I were a worm--that you would send me to

Newgate--that you would abandon me to my fate--and that you would even

_help_ to have me shipped for eternal exile. I thank you for all your

kind intentions, sir,” added Green, in a tone of bitter satire; “and

I mean to show my gratitude by exposing you and your villany to the

utmost of my ability.”

“And what injury can _you_ do me, reptile?” exclaimed Heathcote,

quivering with rage.

“What injury!” repeated Green: “I can ruin you!” he added, speaking

loudly and triumphantly. “Oh! I am acquainted with far more of your

dark transactions and nefarious schemes than you can possibly imagine.

The deeds that are contained therein,” he added, pointing to the

japanned tin-boxes, “are not sealed books to me. I have read them

all--yes, _all_--and have gleaned enough information to enable me to

bring upon you such a host of ruined and defrauded clients, that you

would never dare to face them even for a moment. Ah! you may turn

pale as death--and your eyes may glare with rage: but it is not the

less true that I hold you in my power. If you destroy those deeds,

you then annihilate the only documents which prove your title to the

vast property which you have accumulated: if you do not destroy them,

you leave in existence the damning evidences of your villany. At this

very moment there are old men and old women struggling on in the

bitterest penury, and cursing the life from which they have not the

moral courage to fly through the medium of suicide,--some of them in

the workhouse--others dependent on the bounty of relatives;--and all

these have been plunged into this appalling misery by _you_! But every

step you took to enmesh and ensnare them--every scheme you devised

to get them completely into your power, so that you might wrench

from them the last acre of their lands and the last guinea of their

fortunes,--all--all has been illegal--fraudulent--extortionate--vile!

Oh! it will alone prove a fine harvest for me, when I again take out

my certificate to practise as an attorney--which I am about to do,--it

will be a splendid commencement, I say, to take up the causes of all

those persons and compel you to render an account to your ruined

clients. This, sir, is what I am about to do: and now it shall be war

between us--war to the very knife,--and ere many months have elapsed,

you will bitterly repent your conduct to one who only asked for a

little kindness in return for his faithful--far too faithful services.”

Having thus spoken, Mr. Green abruptly quitted the office, leaving

James Heathcote in a state of mind not even to be envied by a criminal

about to ascend the steps of the scaffold.