face flushed with sudden pain and anger.
At the same moment I, who had been a silent and miserable spectator of
the scene hitherto, could bear it no longer, and rushed forward to help
my old friend. He had clenched his fist and seemed about to return the
blow, when, catching sight of me, his face changed suddenly to one of
misery and scorn, as letting fall his arm he dropped again on to his
seat heedless of the second blow of his cowardly assailant.

Was ever misfortune like mine? Not only had I done my friend the worst
injury one fellow could do to another, but at the very moment when, at
least, he was about to show his comrades that all spirit had not been
crushed out of him, I had by my hateful presence baulked him of his
purpose, and made him appear before every one a coward!

And what a scorn his must be when he would rather submit tamely to a
cowardly blow than have me suppose that for a moment anything _I_ could
do would be of service to him!

However, Mr Merrett's arrival put an end to further altercation for the
present, and during the next few hours no one would have guessed what
fires were smouldering under the peaceful surface of the Hawk Street
counting-house.

As the evening approached I became more and more nervous and restless.
For, come what would of it, I had determined I _would_ speak to Jack
Smith.

He seemed to guess my intention, for he delayed leaving the office
unusually long, in the hope that I would leave before him. At last,
however, when it seemed probable we should be left alone together in the
counting-house, he took his hat and hurriedly left the office. I
followed him, but so stealthily and nervously that I might have been a
highwayman dogging his victim, rather than a friend trying to overtake a
friend.

Despite all my caution, he soon became aware of my intention. At first
with a half-glance back he started to walk rapidly away, but then,
seeing that I still followed, he stopped short and waited till I came up
with him.

Already I was repenting of my determination, and this attitude of his
quite disheartened me.

Still I could not draw back now--speak to him I must.

"Oh, Jack," I cried, as I came up. "It really wasn't my fault--indeed
it wasn't. I only--"

He put up his hand to stop me and said, his eyes blazing with
indignation as he did so, "You've been a liar and a coward!"

He may have been right. He was right! But the words were ill-judged
and rash. I had