"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 here," went on his accuser, "be sure of that! I shall light upon evidence sooner or later. Do you know, sir, that Harry had a sister, and that she earns her own living by giving lessons? You have robbed her--think it over at your leisure. Why, less than a fortnight after that day you and he spent together--the 1st of June--the lad lay dying; yet you could deliberately plan to rob him. Your denial is utterly vain; I would pledge my life on the charge! I read guilt in your face when I entered--you were afraid of me, Mr. Glazzard! I understand now why you never came to see the lad on his death-bed, though he sent for you--and of course I know why he was anxious to speak to you. Oh, you have plenty of plausible excuses, but they are lies! You felt pretty sure, I dare say, that the lad would not betray you; you knew his fine sense of honour; you calculated upon it. All your conduct is of a piece!" Glazzard rose. "Mr. Charnock, please to leave me.--I oughtn't to have borrowed that money; but having paid it back, I can't submit to any more of your abuse. My patience has its limits."