The Vast Abyss Part 75

"What about, father--money?" James Brandon nodded.

"I've been too hasty, my boy. I was very ill, and I did what I should not have done in calmer moments."

There was a pause, and Sam waited, wondering what was to come next.

"You remember my sending for your cousin to come up?"

"Yes, father; you sent me away on business," said Sam, in rather a sneering tone, "so as to get me out of the way, but I heard all about it afterwards."

"All about it?" said his father, with an anxious look.

"I suppose so," replied Sam carelessly.

"No, my boy, you did not," said his father, leaning forward and taking his son by the coat as he spoke in a very low voice. "The fact is, Sam, while I was ill and low-spirited I got a number of curious fancies into my head--half-delirious, I suppose--about some deeds and doc.u.ments left in my charge by your aunt, Tom Blount's mother, when she died."

"Yes?" said Sam, growing interested now.

"I fancied somehow, my boy, that it was my duty to give those deeds up to your cousin; and though I fought against it for some time, the idea grew too strong for me, and I felt that I must send for him and give them over into his charge."

"Were they his by rights, father?" said Sam sharply.

"They were given into my charge, my boy," replied his father evasively, "and I behaved very weakly and foolishly in giving them up to your cousin."

"Then you did give them up to Tom that day?"

"Yes, Sam, and it is a very troublesome matter. I tell you, I did not know what I was about then, and it will affect you very seriously by and by, if I don't get them back."

"You mean in money matters, father?" said Sam sharply.

"Yes; affect me now heavily, and you by and by."

"Get them back then at once," said Sam--the young lawyer giving the elder advice.

"Yes, Sam, my boy, that's what I want to do, but how?"

"Write and tell young Tom to bring them up."

James Brandon shook his head.

"No use--no use, my boy. I must have said a great many foolish things to the lad that day."

"But you must get the papers or whatever they are back again, father,"

cried Sam, who was now growing excited. "You'll have to go down there yourself."

"Impossible; but I have made up my mind to send you to try and get them."

"And suppose I did, father?"

"Suppose you did? Why then, my boy, I could--I mean we could laugh at them, treat anything that was said with contempt. Do you hear? With contempt."

"Stop a bit," said Sam quietly. "You always told me to be cautious in business matters, and that I was to keep one foot down firmly till I found a safe place for the other."

"Of course, my lad, of course."

"Well, suppose I go down to that country b.u.mpkin's place?"

"Yes, if you went down you would find out where the papers were kept,"

said James Brandon eagerly.

"And if I did?"

"You could bring them away. The boy's too stupid to take very great care of them."

"But suppose he has given them to Uncle Richard?"

"Pis.h.!.+ what then? Your uncle would only pitch them into a drawer, and go away to forget them, and dream about the moon. You could go down on a visit, find out where they are, and bring them away."

"I say, dad," said Sam, with a sneer, "isn't that very much like stealing?"

"No, no, no, no," cried his father quickly; "only getting back some doc.u.ments left in my charge--papers which I gave up during a severe illness, when I did not know what I was about. You understand?"

"Oh yes, father, I understand, but it looks ugly."

"It would look uglier for you to be left almost without a penny, Sam, and your cousin to be well off."

"Ye-es," said Sam quietly, as he stood with his brows knit; "that would be ugly, dad."

"Then you will go?"

"Perhaps. That depends. Not as you propose. They'd miss the papers, and I should get the credit of having taken them."

James Brandon stared at his son in surprise, forgetting the fact that he had been training and moulding him for years to become a self-satisfied, selfish man, with only one idea, that of taking care of himself, no matter who suffered.

"He's growing a sharp one," thought the father, half gratified, half annoyed. Then aloud--

"Oh no, Sam, I don't think that."

"You don't want to think that, father," said Sam, drawing himself up importantly.

"Oh yes, my boy," said James Brandon. "I don't want to get you into trouble."

"No, father, of course not; it would be getting you into a sc.r.a.pe as well. Look here, suppose I slip down and get the deeds without being seen--without any one being a bit the wiser?"

James Brandon shook his head.

"Oh, I don't want the job," said Sam coolly.

His father was silent for a few moments, and Sam took out a knife, threw himself back in his chair, and began to trim his nails.