"But look here, Sam," said James Brandon at last, and he seemed to be in a nervous, excited state. "It is of vital importance to me that I should have those papers."

"Then if I were you I should go down and get them, father," said Sam coolly.

"But that is impossible, my boy. Come, you will do that for me?"

"I don't see why I should," replied Sam; "you don't make things very pleasant for me."

"But I will, my boy, I will do anything you like; and don't you understand how important it is for you?"

"Yes, I begin to see," said Sam coolly. "You've got yourself into a sc.r.a.pe, father, over some of young Tom Blount's affairs, and you want to make cat's-paws of me."

"No, sir," cried his father angrily.

"Oh, but you do."

"I do want you to help me get those--those--"

"Chestnuts," said Sam, with a grin.

"Well, call them that if you like, my boy," said his father, trying to be jocose, but looking ghastly pale the while, and with the perspiration standing in tiny drops upon his forehead. "But you must help me, Sam.

The money will all be yours by and by."

Sam sat back staring straight before him in silence for a few minutes, while his father watched him intently.

"Well, I don't want you to get into trouble, father," he said at last.

"You don't open out to me frankly, but I can see as far into a millstone as most people. I'm not quite a fool."

"No, my boy, no," said James Brandon eagerly. "I'm delighted to find what a sharp man of business you are growing."

"But you never made yourself hoa.r.s.e by telling me so, dad," said Sam, with a grin.

"Because I did not want to make you conceited, my dear boy," cried the father. "Then you will help me?"

"The money's no temptation to me, father," said Sam loftily.

"But it will be very useful to you by and by, my boy. Surely you don't want that ill-conditioned cub to inherit it."

"Of course I don't," said Sam. "There, all right, I'll go and get them for you somehow, but if there's any rumpus afterward you'll have to stand the racket, for I shan't. I shall say you sent me."

"Of course, my boy, of course. But you are too clever to make any mistake over the business, and--and you are beginning to be a great help to me, Sam. The time's getting on now towards when we must begin to think of your being a junior partner. Only about three or four years, Sam.--Then you will go down at once?"

"You leave that to me," said Sam importantly. "But I must have some money."

"Yes, my boy, of course. Half-a-sovereign will be plenty, I suppose?"

"No, you don't," said Sam, with a look full of contempt at the shrunken, degraded man before him, who was receiving the punishment already of his misdeeds, and suffering more keenly than from any which could have been inflicted by the law.

"But how much do you want, my boy?" he faltered--"fifteen shillings?"

"I want two pounds," said Sam coolly, "to pay my expenses. Perhaps I shall have to give some blackguard half-a-sovereign to get the papers for me, and if I come back with them all right, you'll have to give me five pounds."

"Five pounds!" gasped his father.

"Yes, dad; and if you make so much fuss about it I shan't go unless you give me ten pounds."

James Brandon looked in a ghastly way, which made his sickly face seem agonised, and he slowly drew out his purse and handed his son the money.

"When will you start?" he said.

"Now, directly," said Sam, rising from his chair; and his father's countenance brightened.

"Hah!" he exclaimed, "that's very prompt and business-like of you, Sam.

You'll be careful though." And he whispered some instructions.

"You leave me alone for that, dad," said Sam. "I know what I'm about."

As he spoke he rose quickly from his chair, gave his father a short nod, and opened the door, to find himself face to face with Pringle, whose hand was raised.

"Oh!" cried the clerk, starting. "Beg pardon, sir, I was just going to knock."

"What is it?" cried James Brandon angrily, and turning pale in dread lest the clerk should have heard anything which had pa.s.sed.

"These deeds, sir--finished the copying," said the man quietly, and with a look of surprise that his employer should have asked him what he wanted.

"Oh yes; put them down," said Brandon hastily.

"What shall I go on with next?"

"The letters I told you about last night."

"Cert'ny, sir, of course," said Pringle; and he hurried out of the room, leaving father and son staring at each other across the table.

"Think he heard, Sam?" said James Brandon, looking more ghastly than ever.

"No, not he. Couldn't have heard more than a word or two. He daren't listen."

"Think not, Sam?"

"Sure of it, dad. There, I'll be off now."

"Yes, do; and pray be careful. One moment, Sam: your uncle is not out with you?"

"Which means he is with you," said Sam, smiling.

"Yes, my boy, a little. We don't quite agree about--about a little matter; but he would be friendly to you. So don't you think you had better go down as a visitor?"

"No, father, I don't," said Sam shortly; and he went out at once.