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Of course, under the unconscious influence of Rachel, seen in her kitchen and seen also in various other striking aspects during the exciting night, he might have bravely exposed the iniquity of the petty-cash book to Jim Horrocleave, and cleared his conscience, and then gone and confessed to Rachel, and thus prepared the way for the inner peace and a new life.
At length the gentleman, who, it had dawned on me, was not a bank official, but a detective, returned with Doubleday, who carried in his hands a few books and papers. The petty-cash book and box were first delivered over, and without examination consigned to the safe. "These letters were in the same desk," said the detective, laying down the papers on the table.
"Mr Barnacle has a perfect right to see the petty-cash account," said Mr Merrett, looking, however, by no means pleased. "Why don't you examine his desk?" said Hawkesbury, pointing to me; "he is the one to suspect, not me. Why don't you search his desk?"
I suggested, curtly, that as Doubleday had not yet had his holiday I considered he had first choice. "Oh," he said, "I don't think so. Besides, Batchelor, Doubleday and I could both be away at the same time; but I really would hardly feel comfortable in going unless you could take charge of the petty-cash while I am away." "Smith will be back," I said; "he could do that for you."
I hardly expected to have a cross-examination in my favour conducted by Mr Barnacle. "I came to do some work," said Hawkesbury. "What work?" "I had several things to catch up." "What? Invoices, or letters, or accounts, or what?" "I had the petty-cash to balance." "That is supposed to be done every day, is it not?" "Yes; but I had got rather behind." "How many days behind?" said Mr Barnacle.
She hesitated, and then, slightly confused, thought, "Perhaps I'd better go back to the archway and knock at the office door." In the inner office, among art-lustre ware, ink-stained wood, dusty papers, and dirt, Jim Horrocleave banged down a petty-cash book on to Louis' desk.
He reflected happily that in a few days he would begin a new petty-cash book and he envisaged it as a symbol of his new life. The future smiled. He made sure that his aunt Maldon was dying, and though he liked her very much and would regret her demise, he could not be expected to be blind to the fact that a proportion of her riches would devolve on himself.
Louis re-entered the room, and as he did so Horrocleave shut the petty-cash book with an abrupt gesture. "Here, take it!" said he, pushing the book away. "Is it all right?" Louis asked. Horrocleave nodded. "Well, I've checked about forty additions." And he smiled sardonically.
"Yes, but you won't be unless you lie still for a day or two more, and do what you're told," said Jack, firmly. Whereat the boy subsided. Hawkesbury turned up at his place at the office in a benevolent frame of mind, and received over my petty-cash and the beautiful copy of accounts which accompanied it with the utmost condescension.
However, Doubleday was wrong for once. The honour he prophesied was not reserved for me. But another was, almost as surprising. "Batchelor," said Hawkesbury, almost in his old wheedling tone, "I shall be away for three or four days. I'll get you to keep the petty-cash accounts till I return. I won't leave the regular book out, as I have not time to balance it.
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