A Terrible Coward | Page 9

didn't; indeed I did not, Zekle."
"Why, I see you with my own eyes," said the man.
"Yes, I did drop the net over, but it was only out of mischief. I did not think it would do more than duck him well. I never thought it would be so dangerous. I meant it in fun."
"But it was dangerous," said Zekle with a grin; "and as people know you hate Mas'r Harry, they'll say you meant to mur--"
"Hush!" cried Penelly again; and he clapped his hand once more upon the speaker's lips.
"Oh, that won't stop me from speaking!" said Zekle. "I'm going to tell all I know, and it's my belief as they'll have you up, and bring it in 'tempt to kill young Mas'r Harry."
"But you won't speak about it, Zekle," said Penelly imploringly.
"But I just will," said Zekle, "and I come to ask you what they'll do to you for it. I don't want to tell, but you see it's 'bout my dooty."
"I'll give you anything to be silent."
"But I must tell," said Zekle, shaking his head; "it's my dooty to, and I wouldn't hold my tongue not for twenty pounds."
Penelly gave a gasp, and in those few moments of thought he saw all the consequences of his escapade--the disgrace and shame--perhaps prosecution for an attempt at murder, for a magistrate might refuse to listen to his plea that it was only in fun.
But there was a gleam of hope. Zekle had mentioned money. He would not hold his tongue for twenty pounds he said. Perhaps he would. Penelly had not twenty pounds, nor yet five; but perhaps he could get it. Turning to Zekle then he said:
"If I give you ten pounds, Zekle, will you swear that you will never say a word?"
"No," said Zekle stoutly, "nor yet for twenty; and now I'm going to tell all I know."
As he spoke he turned towards the door, and Mark Penelly made a clutch at the nearest chair.
CHAPTER THREE.
HARRY PAUL'S PRESENT.
Zekle Wynn already had his hand upon the door when, mastering the strange feeling of dread that had seized him, Mark Penelly caught him by the arm and held him tightly:
"Look here, Zekle," he said hoarsely; "that was all a bit of fun--a joke; but I don't want anyone to know. I'll give you fifteen pounds if you'll hold your tongue."
"No," said Zekle, stoutly; "it's my duty to tell, and I'm agoing to tell."
"Twenty pounds," cried Penelly.
"No, I said afore that I wouldn't do it for twenty pounds," said Zekle, with a very virtuous shake of the head; and as he made an effort to get away, Penelly, who felt desperate, offered him twenty-five pounds.
"Yes, twenty-five pounds, Zekle; I'll give you twenty-five," he cried.
"It ain't no use to try and tempt me, Mas'r Mark--it ain't indeed. I didn't ought to hold my tongue about it. No, I'll go and do my duty."
"But it will nearly drive my father mad," said Penelly imploringly; while Zekle's little sharp eyes twinkled as their owner wondered whether his victim could muster twenty-five pounds.
"I'm very sorry, of course," said Zekle; "but you see a man must do his duty. No, no, Mas'r Mark, you mustn't tempt me."
"I'll get you the money at once, Zekle," said Penelly, who saw that his visitor was trembling in the balance--that is, he appeared to be; but Zekle had make up his mind to have twenty-five pounds down before he entered the house.
"I didn't ought to take it, you know," said Zekle, hesitating.
"But you will, Zekle, and I'll never forget your goodness," said Penelly imploringly; and then hastily locking the door to make sure that his visitor did not go, he went out of the room straight to a desk in his father's office, which he opened with a key of his own, and returned directly with four five-pound notes and five sovereigns.
"I oughtn't to take this, Mas'r Mark," Zekle grumbled; "it ar'n't my duty, you know; and I wish you'd give me sov'rins instead of them notes."
"I cannot," said Penelly sharply. "It has been hard work to get that."
"Then I s'pose I must take them," said Zekle, "but it don't seem like my duty to;" and as he spoke he carefully wrapped up the notes and placed them with the gold in his pocket.
"Now, you'll swear you'll never say a word to a soul about this, Zekle."
"Of course I won't, Mas'r Mark. But it goes again the grit. I wouldn't do it for anyone, you know; but as you say it would be hard on your poor father, I won't tell."
Penelly bit his lips and said nothing, while Zekle went maundering on about his duty, and how unwilling he was to take the money, till, seeing an awkward look in his victim's eyes, he concluded that he had better go,