of exertion on your part if you fail,” said Stephen Coppinger, brightening up slightly.
“Keep up your spirits, sir,” said Roger Kyffin. “The credit of your firm will not suffer, depend on that. I will now set out and see what can be done. I hope to bring satisfactory intelligence before evening.”
Saying this, Roger Kyffin left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. While putting on his spencer and hat, he intimated to his principal subordinate, Mr Silas Sleech, that he should probably be absent for some hours. Mr Sleech glanced after him with a pair of meaningless eyes, set in an immovable countenance, and saying, “Oh, very well,” went on with his work.
More respecting Mr Silas Sleech and his doings may possibly be mentioned.
Chapter Two.
In which Several Personages are Introduced
Roger Kyffin took his way westward. As soon as he had got out of the crowded thoroughfares, he called a coach, for in those days walking in London was a more fatiguing operation than at present. The progress of the vehicle, however, in which he took his seat was not very rapid. It was a large and lumbering affair, drawn by a pair of broken-down hacks, the asthmatic cough of one keeping in countenance the shattered knees of the other. At length he reached the door of a substantial mansion in the middle of Clifford Street. The bell was answered by a servant in sober livery.
“Is Mr Thornborough at home?” he asked, at the same time presenting a card with his name in a bold hand written on it. The servant was absent but a short time, when he returned, saying that his master would be glad to see Mr Roger Kyffin. The visitor was shown into a handsome parlour, where, seated before a fire with his buckled shoes on a footstool, was a venerable-looking gentleman, with his silvery locks slightly powdered hanging down over his shoulders. A richly-embroidered waistcoat, a plum-coloured coat with mother-of-pearl buttons, knee breeches, and black silk stockings with clocks, completed his costume. By his side sat a lady dressed in rich garments, though of somewhat sombre hue.
The white curls which appeared under her high cap showed that she was advanced in life, and the pleasant smile on her comely features betokened a kind and genial disposition. She rose from her seat, and kindly welcomed Roger Kyffin, directing the servant to place a chair for him before the fire. The old gentleman shook his hand, but pleaded age as an excuse for not rising.
“You have given us but little of your company for many a day, Mr Kyffin,” said the lady in a kind tone. “We thought you must have left London altogether.”
“No, Mrs Barbara, I have scarcely been beyond the sound of Bow Bells; but I must plead business as an excuse for my negligence. These are anxious times, and mercantile men must needs pay more than double attention to their affairs.”
“If they demand more time, undoubtedly we should give it; if not, we are robbing other matters of their due attention,” observed Mr Thornborough.
“I agree with you, sir,” answered Mr Kyffin; “I must confess, indeed, that a matter of business of great importance to a friend brought me to the west. I would ask you to allow me a few minutes that I may explain the matter to you clearly.”
“Speak on, friend, I keep no secrets from Barbara, and if she does not know all my affairs, it is through no wish on my part to hide them from her. My sister is a discreet woman, Mr Kyffin, and that’s more perhaps than can be said of all her sex.”
Mr Kyffin bowed his acquiescence in this opinion. He, then turning to the old gentleman, explained clearly the difficulties which surrounded his friend and principal, Mr Stephen Coppinger. Mr Thornborough uttered two or three exclamations as Roger Kyffin went on in his account.
“I thought that my friend Stephen had been a more prudent man,” he observed. “How could he enter into such a speculation? How could he trust such people as Hunter and Dove? Why, Roger Kyffin, you yourself should have been better informed about them. However, if we were only to undertake to assist the wise and prudent we might keep our money chests locked and our pockets buttoned up. Stephen Coppinger is an honest man, and has shown himself a kind and generous one, albeit he might not always have exhibited as much prudence, as was desirable. The amount you mention shall, however, be at his disposal. We must not let a breath of suspicion rest on his name. I have a regard for him, and his six fair daughters, and it would be cruel to allow the maidens to go out into the world without sufficient dowers or means of maintenance, whereas if Stephen Coppinger tides over the present crisis, he may leave them all well off.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” said Mrs Barbara, looking approvingly at her brother. “He gives good advice, and acts it, too, eh, Mr Kyffin? And now my brother has had his say I must have mine. What about the negro slave trade? We have not seen Mr Wilberforce nor any of his friends for several weeks, and my brother cannot help on the cause as he used to do.”
“It is a good cause, that will ultimately be successful,” answered Roger Kyffin; “but, my dear Mrs Barbara, like other good causes, we may have a long fight for it before we gain the day. Just now men’s minds are so engaged with our national affairs that the poor blacks are very little thought of.”
“Too true,” answered Mistress Barbara; “I wish, however, that Mr Wilberforce would call here. I want to tell him how delighted I am with his new book, which I got a few days ago – his ‘Practical View of Christianity.’ It will open the eyes, I hope, of some of the upper classes, to the hollow and unsatisfying nature of the forms to which they cling. I think, and my brother agrees with me, it’s one of the finest books on theology that has ever been written; that is to say, it is more likely to bring people to a knowledge of the truth than all the works of the greatest divines of the past and present age. Get the book and judge for yourself.”
Mr Kyffin promised to do so, and after some further conversation, he rose to take his departure. Mrs Barbara did not fail to press him to come again as soon as his occupations would allow.
“The money shall be ready for you before noon to-morrow,” said Mr Thornborough, shaking his hand. Roger Kyffin hastened back to Idol Lane. Mr Coppinger had not risen from his arm-chair since he quitted the house. The belief that his liabilities would be met without further difficulty, greatly relieved the merchant’s mind, and he thanked Roger Kyffin again and again for the important assistance afforded him.
“Say not a word about it,” answered the clerk; “if I have been useful to you, it was my duty. You found me in distress, and I shall never be able to repay the long-standing debt I owe you. Still I wish to place myself under a further obligation. I would rather have deferred speaking on the matter, but it will allow of no delay. I have to plead for a friend, ay, more than a friend – that unhappy young man – your nephew. You are mistaken as to his character. However appearances are against him. I am certain that Harry Tryon is not guilty of the crime imputed to him. Some day I shall be able to unravel the mystery. In the meantime I am ready to answer for his conduct, if you will reinstate him in the position which he so unwisely left. He has no natural love for business, I grant, but he is high-spirited and excessively sensitive, and I am therefore sure that he will not rest satisfied unless he is restored to his former position, and enabled to establish his innocence.”
“You press me hard, Kyffin,” answered Mr Coppinger. “Besides the fact that the lad is my great-nephew, although his grandmother and I have kept up very little intercourse for years, I have no prejudice against him, and I consider that I acted leniently in not sending after him, and compelling him to discover the authors of the fraud committed against my house. Even should he not be guilty, he must know who are guilty.”
“Granted, sir, and I speak it with all respect,” said Roger Kyffin, “but if he is innocent, and that he is I am ready to stake my existence, he would, had you examined him, have
