s I have
thought you--a man of whom Harry always spoke as if there wasn't his
like on earth. My acquaintance with you is very slight; I know very
little indeed about you, except what Harry told me. But the man who
could deliberately borrow hundreds of pounds from a lad only just of
age--a simple, trustful, good-natured country lad, who had little but
his own exertions to depend upon--_such_ a man will tell a lie to
screen himself! This money was _not_ paid back; there isn't a word
about it in the diary, and there's the fact that Harry had got rid of
his money in a way no one could explain. You had it, and you have kept
it, sir!"

Glazzard let his eyes stray about the room. He uncrossed his legs,
tapped on the arm of his easy-chair, and said at length:

"I have no liking for violence, and I shall try to keep my temper.
Please to tell me the date of the last entry in that journal."

Mr. Charnock opened the book again, and replied at once:

"June 5th of this year--1879."

"I see. Allow me a moment." He unlocked a drawer in a writing-table,
and referred to some paper. "On the 1st of June--we were together the
whole day--I paid your nephew five hundred and fifty pounds in
bank-notes. Please refer to the diary."

"You _were_ together on that day, but there is no note of such a
transaction. 'With E. G. Much talk about pictures, books, and
music--delightful!' That's all."

"Have you added up the sums mentioned previously?"

"Yes. They come to what you say. How did it happen, Mr. Glazzard, that
you had so large a sum in bank-notes? It isn't usual."

"It is not unheard of, Mr. Charnock, with men who sometimes play for
money."

"What! Then you mean to tell me that Harry learnt from you to be a
gambler?"

"Certainly not. He never had the least suspicion that I played."

"And pray, what became of those notes after he received them?"

"I have no idea. For anything I know, you may still find the money."

Mr. Charnock rose from his seat.

"I see," he said, "that we needn't talk any longer. I don't believe
your story, and there's an end of it. The fact of your borrowing was
utterly disgraceful; it shows me that the poor boy had fallen in a
trap, instead of meeting with a friend who was likely to guide and
improve him. You confess yourself a gambler, and I go away with the
conviction that you are something yet worse."

Glazzard set his lips hard, but fell back into the lounging attitude.

"The matter doesn't end her