English fiction; Horror tales, English; Short stories, English
But, unfortunately, my curiosity was a little too open. I had not the
art to conceal the suspicions which I felt about the relations which
existed between these two men and the nature of the hold which the one
appeared to have over the other. It may have been my manner of watching
them, it may have been some indiscreet question, but it is certain that
I showed too clearly what I felt. One night I was conscious that the
eyes of Theophilus St. James were fixed upon me in a surly and menacing
stare. I had a foreboding of evil, and I was not surprised when Dr.
McCarthy called me next morning into his study.
“I am very sorry, Mr. Weld,” said he, “but I am afraid that I shall be
compelled to dispense with your services.”
“Perhaps you would give me some reason for dismissing me,” I answered,
for I was conscious of having done my duties to the best of my power,
and knew well that only one reason could be given.
“I have no fault to find with you,” said he, and the colour came to his
cheeks.
“You send me away at the suggestion of my colleague.”
His eyes turned away from mine.
“We will not discuss the question, Mr. Weld. It is impossible for me to
discuss it. In justice to you, I will give you the strongest
recommendation for your next situation. I can say no more. I hope that
you will continue your duties here until you have found a place
elsewhere.”
My whole soul rose against the injustice of it, and yet I had no appeal
and no redress. I could only bow and leave the room, with a bitter sense
of ill-usage at my heart.
My first instinct was to pack my boxes and leave the house. But the head
master had given me permission to remain until I had found another
situation. I was sure that St. James desired me to go, and that was a
strong reason why I should stay. If my presence annoyed him, I should
give him as much of it as I could. I had begun to hate him and to long
to have my revenge upon him. If he had a hold over our principal, might
not I in turn obtain one over him? It was a sign of weakness that he
should be so afraid of my curiosity. He would not resent it so much if
he had not something to fear from it. I entered my name once more upon
the books of the agents, but meanwhile I continued to fulfil my duties
at Willow Lea House, and so it came about that I was present at the
dénouement of this singular situation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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