Young Mr. Barters Repentance | Page 9

already schooled himself for interview and inquiry. He went a little paler than common as he grasped his father's old friend by the hand for the third time that evening, and trembled ever so little as he spoke.
'I half expected to find you here,' he said. 'I could see how moved you were by the news of my father's illness.' The door stood open, and the old-fashioned man-servant within had been in the act of closing it upon Bommaney's retreating figure when cab number two had driven up, and the young master of the house had alighted from it. 'Is the news worse or better?' He laid both hands upon Bommaney's arms as he put this question.
The elderly servitor, who had never had reason given to him to believe that young Mr. Barter was above the reasonable attached to his father, was a little surprised to see the young man so moved. He drew the door gently after him, and came out upon the steps.
'I'm afraid, Mr. John,' he murmured sympathetically, 'that it's practically all over, sir. The poor gentleman's quite unconscious, and the doctor don't expect him to last till morning.'
Young Mr. Barter's mind was active, and accustomed to rapid movement. He knew at once that the old servant read the signs of disturbance in his face and manner, and how far he misread them. So, to insure the misreading, he took out his handkerchief, and groaned at this melancholy intelligence.
'I----,' began Bommaney, stammering and speaking a little thickly, 'I didn't come to ask about your father.' Young Barter's heart at this, though he was perfectly prepared for it, began to beat like a sledgehammer. 'I've had a dreadful loss. I have called nowhere but at your office since I left my own, and I have lost eight thousand pounds. I am convinced that I must have left it there.'
'I can't think so, Mr. Bommaney,' said Barter, with a face of innocence.' We can go back together, if you like, and look for it.' Bommaney's driver lingered for him; the other cabman was already jingling leisurely down the street.
'Johnson,' said young Barter, addressing the domestic, 'you hear what Mr. Bommaney says. This is a matter of the most urgent importance, and must be looked into at once. Tell my mother that I have been home, and that I have been called suddenly back on urgent business.' Bommaney stood in a kind of stupid trance, and the young man, taking him by the arm, had some ado to secure his attention. 'Come! Come, sir,' he said; 'we will look into this at once. You must not remain in suspense about such a matter.'
They rustled together through the straw which had been laid down upon the roadway, and had been scattered by the feet of passers-by upon the pavement, and, mounting the cab, drove in a ghastly silence for a score of yards, and then, with a clatter which made conversation difficult, Bommaney, rousing himself at intervals, shouted his certainty that the notes would prove to have been left at Barter's chambers. Barter, growing curiously inured to the circumstances of the case, shouted back that he dared to say they would be; that it was very likely; that he really did not see where else Mr. Bommaney could possibly have left them, furtively pressing the notes against his breast meanwhile, and once, at a quiet interval, when Bommaney had sunk into his former stupor, venturing to steal a hand to the pocket in which the stolen money lay, caressing the edges of the notes with the tips of his fingers.
'I'm sure,' said Bommaney, as the cab pulled up at the gate of the quadrangle, 'that we shall find them here.' He spoke with a tremulous uncertainty, and so obviously appealed for a confirmation of his hope, that Barter felt constrained to answer,
'Oh, we are bound to find them.'
The striking of a wax vesta at the door of the chambers, the shaky hunt for the key, the well-known obstinacy of the lock, the opening of the door, the fevered working of Bommaney's fingers, and the flushed eagerness of his face, were all memorable to young Barter for many and many a day. They entered together the room in which their interview had taken place; and Barter, nursing the remnant of the flaming vesta, lit the gas with it, and then, dropping it on the floor, set his foot upon it, and looked at his companion.
'Where do you think you left the notes, sir?' he asked. 'Have you any idea? I think you took out some papers here. You wanted to consult my father about them, I fancy, and, if I remember, you returned them to your pocket.'
Bommaney stood looking about him on the floor, trailing the point of his walking-cane purposelessly hither