“I gave your young man a check for a hundred and five dollars.”
“Thank you.”
And the two men passed their respective ways.
On Mr. Phillips’s return to his store, Martin rendered his account of collections, and, to the surprise of his employer, omitted the one in regard to which he had just been notified.
“Is this all?” he asked, in a tone that sent a thrill of alarm to the guilty heart of his clerk.
“Yes, sir,” was the not clearly outspoken answer.
“Didn’t Garland pay?”
“N-n-o, sir!” The suddenness of this question so confounded Martin, that he could not answer without a betraying hesitation.
“Martin!” Astonishment, rebuke, and accusation were in the voice of Mr. Phillips as he pronounced his clerk’s name. Martin’s face flushed deeply, and then grew very pale. He stood the image of guilt and fear for some moments, then, drawing out his pocket book, he brought therefrom a small roll of bank bills, and a memorandum slip of paper.
“I made these collections also.” And he gave the money and memorandum to Mr. Phillips.
“A hundred and fifty dollars withheld! Martin! Martin! what
“Heaven is my witness, sir,” answered the young man, with quivering lips, “that I have never wronged you out of a dollar, and had no intention of wronging you now. But I am in a fearful strait. My feet have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for extrication—a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong against you.”
“Sit down, Martin,” said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe, tone of voice. “Let me understand the case from first to last. Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend.”
Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story.
“If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had not found you,” was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man ended his confession. “Do you frequent these eating and drinking saloons?”
“I go occasionally, sir.”
“They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin. A young man who frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed. There is an atmosphere of impurity about these places. Have you a younger brother?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?”
“No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it.”
“Why?”
“There’s danger in them, sir.”
“And, knowing this, you went into the way of danger, and have fallen!”
Martin dropped his eyes to the floor in confusion.
“Bland is a stool-pigeon and you were betrayed.”
“What am I to do?” asked the troubled young man. “I am in debt to him.”
“He will be here to-morrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I will have a policeman ready to receive him.”
“O, no, no, Sir. Pray don’t do that!” answered Martin, with a distressed look.
“Why not?” demanded Mr. Phillips.
“It will ruin me.”
“How?”
“Bland will denounce me.”
“Let him.”
“I shall be exposed to the policeman.”
“An evil, but a mild one, compared with that to which you were rushing in order to disentangle yourself. I must have my way, sir. This matter has assumed a serious aspect. You are in my power, and must submit.”
On the next day, punctual to the hour, Bland called.
“This is your man,” said Mr. Phillips to his clerk. “Ask him into the counting-room.” Bland, thus invited, walked back. As he entered, Mr. Phillips said,—
“My clerk owes you a hundred and fifty dollars, I understand.”
“Yes, sir;” and the villain bowed.
“Make him out a receipt,” said Mr. Phillips.
