The Story of Antony Grace

“You fell down – pitched down – I remember, while climbing.”

“No, sir, I – ”

“Look here, you dog,” he hissed between his teeth; “you fell down, do you hear? and cut your head when climbing. Do you understand?”

“No, sir, I – ”

“Once more, Antony Grace, listen to me. If anyone asks you how you came by that cut, mind – you fell down when climbing – you fell down when climbing. If you forget that – ”

He did not finish, but seemed to hold me with his eye as he played with the ruler and made it go up and down.

“Look here, my boy, you are my clerk, and you are to do exactly as I tell you. Now, listen to me. The day after to-morrow there is to be a case of assault brought before the magistrates, and you will be sworn as a witness. You let Mr Wooster in – curse him! – and you saw him come up to my table where I was sitting, and make a demand for money.”

“Please, sir, I did not hear him ask for money.”

“You did, sir,” he thundered; “and you saw him strike me with his stick.”

“Yes, sir, I saw him strike you,” I cried hastily. “Oh, you did see that, did you?” he said in sneering tones.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you see the stick break?”

“Yes, sir,” I said eagerly.

“Oh, come; I’m glad you can remember that. Then he caught up the poker and beat me with it heavily across the body, till the poker was bent right round; and at last, when I was quite stunned and senseless, and with the blood streaming from my lips, he left me half dead and went away.”

There was a pause here, during which I could not take my eyes from his. “You saw all that, didn’t you?”

“No, sir,” I said, “he did not take the poker.”

“What?”

“He did not take the poker, sir.”

“Oh! and he did not beat me with it till it was bent?”

“No, sir.”

“Go and fetch that poker,” he said quietly; and I went trembling, and picked it up, to find it quite bent. “There, you see?” he said.

“Yes, sir, it is bent.”

“Of course it is, Antony. You don’t remember that he struck me with it, eh?”

“No, sir,” I said, trembling.

“Ah, I shall have to refresh your memory, my boy. You remember, of course, about the blood?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s that on the floor?”

I looked down at the place to which he pointed with the bent poker, and there were some dark stains where I had fallen. Then, raising my eyes to his again, I looked at him imploringly.

“I shall soon refresh your memory, Antony,” he said, laughing silently, and looking at me so that I shivered again. “You will find, on sitting down and thinking a little, that you recollect perfectly well how Mr Wooster beat me cruelly with the poker, till it was bent like this, and left me bleeding terribly on the office floor. There, hold your tongue. You’ll recollect it all. Sit down and try and remember it, there’s a good boy. I’m better now, but I can’t talk much. Let me see, Antony, what time do you go to bed?”

“Nine o’clock, sir,” I faltered.

“Exactly. Well, don’t go to sleep, my boy. I’ll come up to you after you are in bed, and see if you remember it any better. Go back to your desk.”

I crept back, watching him the while, as he stood balancing the poker in his hand, and smiling at me in a way that made my blood turn cold. Then, throwing the poker back with a crash into the grate, he went out as silently as he had come, and I sat there thinking for quite two hours.

At the end of that time, I took a sheet of paper, and wrote upon it as well as my wet trembling hands would let me —

“My dear Mary, —

“Please don’t think me a very ungrateful boy, but I cannot, and I dare not, stay here any longer. When you read this I shall be gone, never to come back any more. Please tell Miss Hetty I shall never forget her kindness, and I shall never forget yours.

    “I remain, your affectionate friend, —
    “Antony Grace.

“P.S. – Some day, perhaps, we shall meet somewhere. I am very unhappy, and I cannot write any more. Mr Blakeford frightens me.”

This letter I doubled and sealed up in the old fashion, and kept in my pocket, meaning to post it, and at last, when I went into the kitchen to tea, I was half afraid to meet Mary. She noticed my pale face, and I told her the truth, that I had a bad headache, making it an excuse for going up to bed at eight o’clock, feeling as if the greatest event in my life were about to take place, and shaking like a leaf.

I felt that I had an hour to spare, and spent part of the time in making a bundle of my best clothes and linen. I tied up in a handkerchief, too, some thick slices of bread and butter, and some bread and meat that I had found that afternoon in my desk. Then, as the night grew darker, I sat thinking and asking myself, after placing my bundles ready, whether I should go at once, or wait till I heard Mr Blakeford coming.

I had just decided to go at once, feeling that I dare not face Mr Blakeford again, when I heard his voice downstairs, and started up, trembling in every limb.

“Where’s that boy?”

“Gone to bed,” said Mary surlily. Then I heard a door shut directly after, and breathed more freely. I felt that I must go at once, and stood in the middle of the room, shivering with nervous excitement, as I thought of the madness of the step I was about to undertake.

A dozen times over I felt that I dare not go, till the recollection of Mr Blakeford’s dark threatening face and sneering smile gave me strength, and made me call up the picture of myself before the magistrates telling all I knew about the assault, of course not saying anything about the poker, or my employer’s injuries; and then I began to think about meeting him afterwards.

“He’ll half kill me,” I thought; and stopping at this, I nerved myself for what I had to do, and putting on my cap, went to the door and listened.

I had spent so much time in indecision that the church clock was striking ten, and I started as I thought of Mr Blakeford being already upon the stairs.

From where I stood I could have seen the light shining out of the kitchen where Mary sat at work; but it was not there, and I knew that she must have gone up to bed.

It now flashed upon me that this was why Mr Blakeford had been waiting – he did not want Mary to interfere; and a cold chill came over me as I felt that he meant to beat me till I consented to say what he wished.

There was no time to lose, so, darting back, I caught up my two bundles, crept to the door, descended the stairs on tiptoe, and felt my heart beat violently at every creak the woodwork of the wretched steps gave.

Twice over a noise in the house made me turn to run back, but as there was silence once more, I crept down, and at last reached the mat in front of the office door.