The Gayton Scholarship: A School Story

by Herbert Hayens

  *CHAPTER XII.*

  *WHERE IS THE MISSING MONEY?*

  "Hullo, Hartland! tired of waiting?"

  "Rather, sir. I thought I would come outside for a breath of freshair."

  "Ah! Everything all right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Any one been here?"

  "Only Johnson."

  Johnson was the boy who did the evening round.

  "Just so.--Come inside, Farrant, will you?--Turn up the gas, Hartland.I want you to stay a few minutes longer."

  "Yes, sir," replied Jim, who was getting his hat.

  He thought his employer's manner a trifle strange, and rather wonderedwhy Mr. Farrant, who was a frequent visitor, remained standing justinside the door. However, he turned the gas on full and waited.

  "Sure no one has been here?" repeated the stationer.

  "Quite sure, sir," answered Jim, who thought it was a very odd question.

  "Then you haven't sold anything, or given change?"

  "No," said Jim, who was beginning to feel a trifle uneasy, though hescarcely knew why.

  "Hum," said his master; "that's satisfactory in one sense, at least. Itleaves no room for mistakes." And going round the counter he opened thetill.

  One glance was sufficient, and in a loud voice he added, "Lock the door,Farrant, and bring me the key.--Hartland, come here."

  "If he's guilty, he's a good actor," thought Mr. Farrant, who waswatching the puzzled look on the boy's face.

  "Count the money in the till, Hartland--it won't take a century to do,"said Mr. Broad, who intended to be sarcastic.

  "Fourpence ha'penny, sir," said Jim promptly.

  Without a word the stationer drew a notebook from his pocket, opened it,and laid it on the table. On the top of the page was a circle with astar in the centre, drawn in ink. Underneath was written, "One florin,1884. One shilling, 1885. One sixpence, 1861. Sevenpence ha'penny incoppers. Silver all marked as above."

  "That," said Mr. Broad, speaking very slowly and gravely, "is the amountof money in the till when I left the shop. Here"--pointing to the fewcoppers--"is fourpence ha'penny. Where is the rest?"

  Jim's face became white as death, and he trembled violently. Beads ofperspiration stood on his forehead, a film gathered before his eyes, histhroat was parched, and he could not utter a word.

  "Come," repeated his master sternly; "I must have an answer to myquestion. Where is the missing money?"

  "I don't know, sir," answered Jim huskily.

  "That's rubbish. No one but you has been in the shop."

  "Only Johnson."

  "Was he near the till?"

  "That is a foolish question," thought Mr. Farrant. "Of course he'llshift the blame to the errand-boy. Broad has given him a fine chance towriggle out of it."

  The same idea flashed through Jim's mind, but he rejected it scornfully.

  "No," said he, with the utmost deliberation, "he did not go near thecounter. I took the bag from him myself, and he went out again."

  "Then, if you didn't steal the money, where is it?" asked the stationertestily. He was really a kind-hearted man, and the miserable businessupset him terribly.

  "Come, my boy," said Mr. Farrant; "this is a sad case, but you will dono good by denying your guilt. Better make a clean breast of it, andtrust to your master's leniency."

  Now if I have drawn anything like an accurate picture of James Hartland,you will not be surprised that this well-meant suggestion made him veryangry. The blood rushed to his face, his eyes glowed, and, as Dickywould have said, "the monkey was up" with a vengeance.

  "I don't know that it is any business of yours," he exclaimed. "I'mresponsible to my master, and not to you," which was very rude, and veryill-advised.

  "Oh, all right," said Mr. Farrant; "go your own way. You'll feel atrifle less high and mighty when you've been in prison a week or two."

  "It will be an awful disgrace, Hartland. You'll be ruined for life,"observed Mr. Broad. "Come, my boy, tell me the truth; I have no wish tobe severe with you. Where is the money?"

  "I haven't seen it," answered Jim sullenly.

  "This isn't the first time, you know," continued his master. "I havemissed money before when you were left in charge, but I did not like tobe positive. Unfortunately for you, there can be no question about itthis time. If you will confess, I will forgive you, for your mother'ssake; if not, I must ask my friend to fetch a policeman."

  The boy shuddered at this threat. He had a strong imagination, and heinstantly conjured up the whole pitiful scene. He saw himself marchedto the station, and brought up next morning before the magistrates. Hepictured the grief and horror in his mother's face, and thought of Susiewhen she should hear of what had happened.

  Mr. Broad understood what was passing through his mind, and said in anencouraging tone,--

  "Come; which is it to be?"

  "I really can't confess anything," cried Jim hopelessly. "I have notbeen near the till."

  "Wouldn't it be as well to search him?" suggested Mr. Farrant. "Ofcourse he may have got rid of it; but, on the other hand, it may be inhis pockets--that is," he added blandly, "assuming he is guilty of thetheft."

  "That seems to be a very good idea," said the stationer.--"I suppose,Hartland, you have no objection to turning out your pockets? Of courseif you are innocent there can't be any objection."

  "No, sir," answered Jim eagerly. "You can search me as much as youlike. Shall I take my coat off?"

  "Yes," said his master, "do."

  They found nothing beyond a handkerchief and a few odds and ends such asevery schoolboy loves to carry; and a search of the trousers pocketsonly revealed a knife, a piece of tarred string, a wire puzzle, and ahalfpenny, which might or might not have been taken from the till.

  "Have you anything in your waistcoat pockets?" asked Mr. Broad.

  "No," answered Jim promptly; "there's nothing--" He stopped suddenly,and his face turned very red.

  "Well?" observed his master, and the boy felt how stern the voice hadbecome.

  "I forgot," he said; "there's a sixpenny piece, but it is my own."

  Mr. Farrant smiled slightly, as the stationer, producing the coin, laidit on the counter.

  "I notice that it is dated 1861," remarked he, "but that may be only acoincidence." Then he turned the coin over, and pointing to a spot atthe back of the Queen's head, added sorrowfully, "This, however, ishardly a coincidence."

  Jim's knees knocked together as he saw quite plainly the figure of acircle with a starred centre, similar to the one in the notebook. Therecould be no doubt that the coin was one of those which his master hadmarked.

  "That settles it," remarked Mr. Farrant emphatically. "Come, Broad; youhad better make short work of the matter. Give him two minutes, and ifhe doesn't own up, let me go for a policeman."

  "I am afraid I must," said the stationer sadly.--"You see, Hartland, thething's as plain as a pikestaff; and here," tapping the coin, "is theproof. You can't explain that away."

  Jim felt that he was in a desperate situation, and he doubted if eventhe truth would save him now. Mr. Broad might believe the story--hisfriend certainly would not--but, after all, it would throw no real lighton the mystery.

  "Well," said his master, "are you going to confess that you took thissixpence from the till?"

  "No," said Jim, "because it wouldn't be true."

  "Good boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farrant sarcastically; "always stick to thetruth!"

  By this time even Mr. Broad was inclined to lose patience; but,controlling his temper, he said, "Perhaps you will tell me how it cameto be in your possession?"

  "I'll tell you all about it as far as I know, though I'm afraid it won'tdo much good. Some weeks ago I lent a boy sixpence. His name isPeters. This evening, while you were away, he called me to the door. Hecame to pay back the money he had borrowed, because I had asked him forit several times."

  "Did he come into the sh
op?" interrupted Mr. Farrant sharply.

  "No; we both stood talking outside. He took the sixpence from hispocket"--Jim was scarcely correct in this--"but we were so full of ourtalk that he forgot to give it to me. However, he ran back with itdirectly he remembered, and I put it in my pocket."

  "Any one with him?" asked Mr. Farrant, who was drumming softly on thecounter, and smiling at what he called a cock-and-bull story.

  "No," answered Jim confidently; "he was by himself."

  "What sort of chap is this Peters? Respectable?"

  "Well, he's very poor, sir, so I suppose folks are down on him a bit."

  "Rubbish! You're poor, aren't you? Nobody's 'down' on you! Would youtake him home, now, if your mother was there?"

  This was a poser; and Mr. Farrant, noticing Jim's perplexity, beganquite a brilliant tune with his fingers.

  "Better leave it to the police, Broad," he advised. "I daresay they'llbe able to supply us with information concerning the other boy. Wearen't likely to get anything satisfactory in this quarter."

  In truth Jim's story did not go far toward clearing his character, andof this he was fully aware. Curly Peters had given him the sixpence,but, just as certainly, he had not entered the shop. The more Jimpuzzled, the more mixed things became, until at length his brain was ina perfect whirl. Still he stuck stubbornly to the main points of hisstatement, from which he could not be turned either by threats orblandishments.

  His employer implored him for the sake of his mother and sister to tellthe truth, while Mr. Farrant drew a vivid word-picture of the disgraceand misery awaiting him; but to each of them he replied in the sameterms.

  "I did not steal the money!" he exclaimed; "and I have told you all Iknow."

  Mr. Farrant ceased drumming. "I'm tired of this farce, Broad," heexclaimed, "and if you don't make an end one way or another, I'm off!"

  "Wait five minutes longer," pleaded Jim's master. "Now, Hartland, hereis your last chance." And he laid his watch on the counter. "Tell thewhole truth, and I promise solemnly that nothing more shall be heard ofthe business. Beyond the three of us, no one shall be any the wiser.If you still remain obstinate at the end of five minutes, I shall placethe matter in the hands of the police."

  Jim is not likely ever to forget that tiny fraction of his life. Hismaster stood by his side; Mr. Farrant seated himself on the counter; noone spoke, and the only sound to break the silence was the monotonousticking of the watch.

  Five minutes--and then? The boy dared not think of it. He was pale anddeadly cold, but he tried to stand firm, to hold himself erect, so thathis employer should not think he was afraid.

  "Two minutes more," said the stationer gravely, and then--"One minutemore. Now, Hartland, seize your chance before it is too late."

  Mr. Farrant slid to the ground; evidently he had quite made up his mindhow the affair would end. Mr. Broad took the watch from the counter,replaced it in his pocket, and waited for the boy to answer.

  Jim looked helplessly from one to the other of the two men. What couldhe say? How could he prove his innocence? No magistrate would believehis story, and, as likely as not, Curly would deny it, in order to savehimself. A boy of Curly's doubtful character was not likely to admitbeing in possession of a stolen sixpence.

  "It is no good," said he wearily; "I have told the truth. I am not athief, Mr. Broad. I have never stolen a ha'penny in my life, eitherfrom you or from any one else."