Several decanters stood on the table before Mr Sleech. Harry had already taken a good deal of wine at his uncles. Sleech urged him to take more. The weather was hot. He felt thirsty. Those were drinking days, the virtue of temperance was seldom inculcated. On the contrary, the more a man could drink, the better he was thought of by his ordinary companions. Sleech smiled as he saw Harry toss off tumbler after tumbler of wine. It was cool claret, and tasted like water. The tempter had now his victim more than ever in his hands. The papers were brought out. Harry put his name to several.
I wish you could write old Kyffins name as well as you do your own, observed Sleech, or your uncles. I say, Harry, why were you not called Stephen Coppinger? Your grandmothers name was Coppinger, wasnt it? In my opinion its a better name than Tryon. Better, at all events, on change Tryons not worth much there, I have a notion, and Coppinger is worth whatever amount Stephen Coppinger chooses to put above it. Dont trouble yourself about that amount you owe me a few hundreds only. You forget all about it now, very likely. However, just let me get these papers in circulation, and I will never trouble you again about it.
Give it me, said Harry; I wish I had never signed it, a sudden flash of sense coming across his mind.
So ho! boy, be calm, my dear fellow, answered Sleech. You will find that you have got to deal with your master.
Harry Tryon never knew what papers he signed that fatal night, nor what names he had written on them. He had a faint idea that he had moved his hand according to Sleechs guidance.
The next day Mr Sleech declared himself indisposed, and told Harry he should not go out that evening. They were alone in the office. It was the business of Mr Sleech to see it closed. Harrys head ached fearfully. He had never felt so depressed. Several bills had come in, and he had already spent every farthing of his salary for the quarter. Silas Sleech approached him.
I rather think, Harry Tryon, this is the last day you will be at this office that is to say, if you take my advice.
What do you mean? asked Harry.
Why just this, my dear fellow, listen to reason. There are certain papers to which you have put your hand. These will be brought before your uncle in the course of a day or two, and will be strong evidence against you, that you have aided in a serious fraud. You are in my debt for 500 pounds. I have your acknowledgment. You owe your tailor and other tradesmen no small amount. Now, you dont know Mr Coppinger as I do. When he finds all this out, he will come down upon you with a severity to which you are little accustomed. I tell you, Harry, he would, without the slightest compunction, have you shut up in Newgate, and see you sent to the scaffold, even though you were his own son, instead of his grand-nephew. Thus you see your character is blasted, and all hopes of success in business
cut off.
Harry had sat with his hands clenched and his eyes fixed on Silas Sleech while he made these remarks.
Sleech, you are a villain! he exclaimed with vehemence; a cunning, hypocritical scoundrel!
Very likely, answered the other. Go on, young one, what else am I?
You have deceived me, and led me into all sorts of vice, cried Harry, clenching his fist.
You are quite right. You followed my lead. I had an object, and I have succeeded. I wished to ruin you in our worthy principals estimation, and youll find by to-morrow that he looks upon you as a hopeless profligate. You have no longer any chance of supplanting me. As to Mr Kyffin, I rather think that he will consider himself mistaken with regard to you, and that you will no longer as of yore be precious in his sight. Thus you see, Harry, I have check-mated you completely.
You have shown me clearly that I am a fool, and that you are a consummate villain, exclaimed Harry. I will acknowledge my own fault and exhibit your knavery.
As you please, said Sleech, in an unmoved tone. You must remember that in acknowledging your own folly you run the certainty of being convicted of felony. I have no especial personal dislike to you, except that I have reason to believe you a rival in more cases than one, and that you have been received on friendly terms by a family who have looked upon me, though a relative, with haughty contempt. You understand me, Harry Tryon. There is as good blood runs in my veins as in yours, and do you think with that knowledge that I would consent to be cut out and trampled upon without taking vengeance when I have it in my own power?
Sleech, are you in earnest in what you say? asked Harry, almost aghast at this declaration of his companion. You are either mad or a most fearful villain.
You have called me so twice already, exclaimed Sleech, in the same cool tone; I dont mind it a bit. Again I say, stay if you like and brave your uncles anger. My character stands high with him, and I know too many of the secrets of the house for him to venture to quarrel with me, even should he wish it. You see I know the ground I stand on, and I again say, take your own course. Its really a matter of indifference to me.