diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/50369-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/50369-0.txt | 10878 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 10878 deletions
diff --git a/old/50369-0.txt b/old/50369-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 875d690..0000000 --- a/old/50369-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10878 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Men of Mawm, by W. Riley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Men of Mawm - -Author: W. Riley - -Release Date: November 2, 2015 [EBook #50369] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN OF MAWM *** - - - - -Produced by Andrew Sly, Cindy Beyer, Al Haines and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT - - For a short space Mr. Riley forsook the white for the red rose, - and wrote _The Lady of the Lawn_ as a result. He has now - definitely returned to his own country, and in his new novel is - told the story of Maniwel Drake, who has lost an arm; but - maintains his cheerful and genial nature, and Baldwin Briggs, - whose motto is “All for my-sen.” - - The story deals with one of those contrasts of conflicting - personalities that Mr. Riley loves to draw. There are dramatic - episodes as well as character studies, and the local colour that - Mr. Riley loves to introduce. Above all there blows through the - book the breath of the Moors, without which a Riley book would - not be a Riley book. - - - - - =_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_= - - WINDYRIDGE 2s. 0d. net. - NETHERLEIGH 2s. 0d. net. - JERRY AND BEN 2s. 0d. net. - OLIVE OF SYLCOTE 2s. 0d. net. - WINDYRIDGE (ILLUSTRATED) 7s. 6d. net. - THE LADY OF THE LAWN 7s. 6d. net. - NO. 7 BRICK ROW 2s. 0d. net. - THE WAY OF THE WINEPRESS 2s. 0d. net. - A YORKSHIRE SUBURB (COLOURED 7s. 6d. net. - PLATES) - THRO’ A YORKSHIRE WINDOW 7s. 6d. net. - (ILLUSTRATED) - - - - - MEN OF - MAWM - - - BY - W. RILEY - - - HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED - 3 YORK STREET, ST. JAMES’S - LONDON, S.W.1 ❦ ❦ MCMXXII - - - - - [Illustration] - - - _Printed in Great Britain by Love & Malcomson, Ltd._ - _London and Redhill._ - - - - - CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. IN WHICH INMAN ENTERS MAWM 7 - II. INMAN RECEIVES A COLD RECEPTION AND SOME - INFORMATION 17 - III. MANIWEL DRAKE MAKES A SUGGESTION 27 - IV. THE WOMAN ENTERS WITH THE SERPENT 37 - V. JAGGER DRAKE SETS HIS TEETH 48 - VI. BALDWIN’S SCAFFOLDING GIVES WAY AND ALSO HIS - RESERVE 60 - VII. NANCY SPEAKS HER MIND 69 - VIII. NANCY QUESTIONS HER HEART AND MANIWEL - QUESTIONS HIS SON 80 - IX. ONE LOVER WALKS OUT AND ANOTHER WALKS IN 91 - X. THE COMPANY AT THE “PACKHORSE” IS INVITED TO - DRINK A HEALTH 101 - XI. THE CONDITIONS ARE WINTRY 110 - XII. BALDWIN’S SKY BECOMES SLIGHTLY OVERCAST 121 - XIII. INMAN PROVES HIMSELF COMPETENT 131 - XIV. JOHN CLEGG IS “WANTED” AND MANIWEL ISN’T 141 - XV. THE VILLAGERS DISCUSS THE DISASTER 150 - XVI. INMAN SHOWS THE SUBTLETY OF A VERY VENOMOUS - SERPENT 160 - XVII. NANCY’S BABY IS BORN AND JAGGER LOSES HIS - TEMPER 170 - XVIII. BALDWIN ALLOWS AN OPPORTUNITY TO SLIP 179 - XIX. THE BILL OF SALE IS COMPLETED 190 - XX. THERE IS A SENSATIONAL ROBBERY 202 - XXI. IN WHICH EVENTS MOVE QUICKLY 210 - XXII. BALDWIN FINDS NEW LODGINGS 221 - XXIII. NANCY IS OVERWHELMED 231 - XXIV. INMAN’S POPULARITY IS SEEN TO WAVER 241 - XXV. NANCY DISCUSSES THE SITUATION WITH JAGGER 250 - XXVI. MANIWEL LETS JAGGER INTO A SECRET 260 - XXVII. NANCY PLAYS THE PART OF DETECTIVE 269 - XXVIII. MANIWEL AND JAGGER JOIN IN THE GAME 280 - XXIX. THE TABLES ARE TURNED MORE THAN ONCE 290 - XXX. SWITHIN TELLS HIS STORY 300 - XXXI. WE TAKE LEAVE OF THE MEN OF MAWM 309 - - - - - MEN OF MAWM - - - CHAPTER I - - IN WHICH JAMES INMAN ENTERS MAWM AND IS - FAVOURED BY FORTUNE - -TO one who had no love for them the Yorkshire moors could hardly have -been less attractive than on this bleak, damp afternoon in early -November, when the air was moist though no rain had fallen, and a mist -that was too thin to hide more than the smaller details of the landscape -made the distant hills a grey shadow against the lighter grey of the -sky. - -There was snow on the mountains, but only on their crowns; only there, -and in the deeper fissures that faced north and so paid no toll to the -sun. The nearer mountains were almost black, like the moor that -stretched its weary length to the sky-line; like the dry walls, that -divided the lower slopes of the moor into curiously-shaped allotments. - -The road was little better than a track, but it was just -distinguishable, for which mercy James Inman was thanking the gods as he -strode along. He had not found much to thank them for after leaving the -village of Scaleber, and his acknowledgements were not too cordial. - -His one anxiety was to reach the hamlet of Mawm before darkness set in, -and to find there at least warmth and possibly good fortune. - -Everything was still; weirdly, painfully so. There must have been birds -in the great crags that rose terrace above terrace from the grey-green -grass and lost themselves in the low-lying clouds; but they had shown no -sign of life. The lonely farm he passed might have been deserted, for no -sound came from it—not even the inquiring bark of a dog. The moor -bird’s cry is not agreeable, but the man would have welcomed anything -that cut the silence. A howling wilderness was better than a wilderness -of death. - -He had climbed six hundred feet or more in an hour, and the exertion had -put no strain on either heart or lungs. He was in excellent physical -condition, and, though perhaps a little too lean to be perfectly -proportioned, a fine athletic-looking man. His dress was superior to -that of a labourer or even a journeyman, but it was ill-fitting as if -bought ready-made for the emergency of a funeral, and it was entirely -black. He carried neither stick nor baggage and was without overcoat. A -bowler hat shabbier than the rest of his outer clothing, was worn low -down on his head and almost concealed his hair. The face was expressive -of determination and self-confidence and these qualities made it -striking; but one would have needed to scan the features a second time -or a third before pronouncing the man even passably good-looking. He -trod firmly; yet despite his unwillingness to company with darkness on -that grim waste he was not forcing the pace. Three miles an hour on such -a rough upland road was enough and more than enough. - -When the track became a mere stretch of grass the man paused. He was in -the shadow of two high mountains whose summits were barely two hundred -and fifty feet above his head. Night lurked already in the dark gullies, -and he cursed the folly that had led him to risk the shorter bridle -route when a third-rate road had been available, and nothing saved but a -mile or two of foot-drill at the most. - -With a shrug of the shoulders he went forward again; but another -quarter-hour brought him to the apex of the path and the mountains ran -out on to the moor. It was downhill now and he plodded on, sometimes -half uncertain of his way, until the descent became abrupt, when he -narrowed his eyelids and sought for signs of the village which he knew -must lie some five hundred feet below. He failed to find them, however, -for in the murk of advancing night it was difficult to discern grey -houses against grey hillsides, and what was worse he lost the path, and -was some time in finding it again. - -At length he struck the road and saw the glimmer of lights in the -valley. - -“That’ll be Mawm,” he muttered. “The longest way round ’ud have been the -shortest way home. Now which end of the village has this old -hammer-slinger his shop, I wonder?” - -The location could have been of little consequence, for the houses were -few in number and straggled to no great distance. Fortune, however, had -placed Baldwin Briggs’ woodyard at the extreme northerly end of the -village, so that Inman stumbled upon it without the necessity of seeking -information, being also guided by the sound of voices in altercation. - -A low wall bounded the road on which the front of the two-storied shop -abutted and several men of advanced years were leaning against it and -giving silent audience to the disputants at the door. To these the -stranger joined himself. - -“You’ve changed, Mr. Briggs,” a man about Inman’s own age was saying in -an emphatic but not loud voice; “I’ve heard father say ’at when you and -him worked for Mr. Clegg there was nobody readier than you to ask for -your wages raising. Oft and oft I’ve heard him say it, and ’at you egged -the others on to stand by you. Now it’s like skinning the flint to get -another penny out of you, for all you’re putting your own prices up -every few months. You’ve changed, I say.” - -The voice fell away and became almost plaintive and the stranger’s lip -curled contemptuously. - -Mr. Briggs’ hands were lost in his pockets, and his whole attitude (for -in the dim light his features were scarcely visible) betokened -indifference. When he spoke his voice was charged with contempt, and his -sneering tone brought an approving smile to the newcomer’s face. - -“Nay, I’ve none changed, Jagger; not I. I was for my-sen then and I’m -for my-sen now.” - -“And that’s God’s truth,” replied the other bitterly. “And your heart’s -like your own grunstone too. I’m hanged if I’d stay with you if my hands -weren’t tied, but needs must when the devil drives, and father’s too old -to shift.” - -“_My_ hands aren’t tied,” the other replied with a sudden fierce passion -that electrified the atmosphere and startled the stranger. The voice -became a hiss, and the man’s face was bent forward until his cap almost -touched the other’s forehead. A string of curses followed which, so far -from relieving the pressure, seemed only to accentuate the master’s -wrath. - -“_My_ hands aren’t tied,” he repeated, “and I’ll just manage without -your help, Jagger Drake. I’m stalled of your long tongue and your -milksop ways; and to be shut of you at t’ cost of a week’s wages’ll be a -cheap bargain, so you can take yourself off to where they’ll do better -for you. Here——:” - -He pulled out a purse, and having carefully counted sundry silver coins -offered them to the young man who mechanically stretched out his hand to -receive them. When they were in his palm the fingers did not close over -them, nor did the hand drop. - -“I’m sacked, then?” he asked in a low, uncomprehending voice. - -“You’re sacked,” the other answered hotly. “Do you think I’m forced to -stand here to be jawed at; let alone ’at you rob me out o’ good money, -nearhand as oft as you do a job for me?” - -“Rob you?” - -“Aye, rob me! What else is it but robbery when you spend half as long -again over a job as any other man? I haven’t forgot that there bit o’ -work at Lane End, and the lip you gave me.” - -The man’s temper was still warm; but at the mention of Lane End the -other recovered himself. He lowered his hand and thrust the coins -uncounted into his trousers’ pocket, and the stunned look left his face. - -“If I’ve to choose between robbing widows and robbing you, Baldwin -Briggs,” he said, “I’ll none need to think twice. And widow or no widow, -honest folks don’t scamp their work; and I’ve been brought up in t’ -wrong school for tricks o’ that sort. So if that’s your last word I’ll -get my bass and make my way home.” - -He turned as he spoke and Mr. Briggs said nothing, but spat angrily -after the retreating figure. Not one of the elderly men had uttered a -word or moved a hand during the colloquy, and they remained motionless -when the stranger crossed the road and going up to the master-carpenter -laid a hand on his arm. - -“Are you filling this chap’s place?” he asked. - -Mr. Briggs turned with an angry gesture, but at sight of the stranger he -controlled his features and took stock of the situation whilst staring -into the newcomer’s face. He was naturally cautious, and his brain -worked slowly. Some instinct told him that the man was a carpenter, -probably skilled at his trade—“a likely lad” as he put it in his -thoughts. - -On the other hand Jagger Drake was a good worker and a steady,—some of -his customers would have no other—with no fault worth speaking of but a -ridiculous conscientiousness; and the episode which had just ended had -been more than half “play-acting” designed to bring the lad to his -senses and show him on what dangerous ground he was standing. - -Inman bided his time but never moved his eyes from the other’s face, and -in the steely concentrated gaze there was a suggestion of hypnotic -power. Interpreting the master’s hesitation as a sign of wavering he -went on in a firm but studiously respectful voice: - -“I’ll do a job whilst yon chap’s planning it out. I’ll do in five -minutes what’ll take him twenty, and do it right too. Yon chap’s too -slow to go to his own funeral.” - -“Where d’you come from?” Mr. Briggs growled. - -“From Scaleber,” he said, offering the tag end of truth. “My name’s -James Inman and luck sent me here—your luck and mine. I came to seek a -job with you, and when I heard you sack yon ninny I knew I’d come in the -nick of time.” - -“Oh, did you?” replied Mr. Briggs sharply. “It takes two to make a -bargain, young fellow, and I wouldn’t be too sure o’ that. Trade’s slack -just now and I’m thinking I can do without another man for a week or two -till it mends. I’ll sleep on it, anyway.” - -Inman saw the mouth tighten and read the sign. He had already recognised -and regretted his blunder and was feeling round for another starting -point when Jagger re-appeared from the shed at the back with his “bass” -over his shoulder, and without even looking in their direction walked -smartly down the road. - -A red flush tinged the sallow features of the master and again Inman -read the sign. - -“Ought to work for a woman, he did,” he observed with a sneer; “man -milliner, or something o’ that sort.” - -Mr. Briggs’ expression was ugly. “Come inside,” he said. - -Inman’s eyes swept the workshop with a swift, comprehensive glance. -“American machines,” he said to himself; “old Hotspur isn’t altogether a -Rip Van Winkle.” - -The office was upstairs and the master led the way there. An oil lamp -was burning on a table and by its light Mr. Briggs scanned the -newcomer’s face. - -“You’re a joiner by trade?” he inquired. - -The other nodded. “I’ve papers, if you care to see them,” he said; and -tossed a packet on to the desk against which the master was leaning. - -“What makes you come here if you’re such a dab hand as all that?” he -asked suspiciously when he had read one or two of the documents. “Been a -bit of a rolling stone, haven’t you?” - -“I’m moorland born,” Inman replied, “and town life doesn’t suit me. Now -I’m getting older I sort o’ want to settle down.” - -Mr. Briggs scowled. He did not like glibness, and the young man was an -adept in that smooth art. All strangers were under suspicion, and a -stranger who turned up from nowhere in time to step into another man’s -shoes—a stranger who travelled so light that he had not even a spare -collar for his neck, and whose tone was domineering although under -control, was doubly suspicious. Mr. Briggs stared steadily and -thoughtfully at his visitor, and frowned until his eyes were almost -hidden by the pepper-coloured tufts of hair that overhung them. Inman -bore the scrutiny well and made his face expressionless. - -“It’s a rum tale,” said the master, “and as for getting older you’ll not -have topped twenty-six, I’ll warrant.” - -“Barely,” replied the other. “I was six and twenty three weeks since. -Now come, Mr. Briggs, I’m just the man for you. I can handle tools, as -these papers tell you, and you’re wanting a man to handle ’em. I’ll -fetch my bass across to-morrow and start on Monday. You shall give me -what you gave yon other chap, and if I don’t satisfy you, you can sack -me, same as you did him.” - -He would have said more, but the change that came over the master’s face -caused him to pull up abruptly. Mr. Briggs was a loosely-built, -shambling man of sixty, with long legs that would not have passed the -test of his own straight-edge, a neck of many hollows, and a face that -was chiefly remarkable for the prominence of the cheek-bones and a -peculiarly knobbed nose. Hair of the same pepper-coloured variety that -thatched his eyebrows grew thickly on his cheeks and chin, but was -shaved from the upper lip. In revenge, perhaps, for that slight, some -seeds had rooted themselves on the end of the nose and flourished there. - -In spite of this abnormality there was nothing repulsive about Baldwin -Briggs’ features except when one of those sudden gusts of passion swept -over them and distorted them. Then a row of large, discoloured teeth, -with sundry gaps of irregular shape, was disclosed, and the -pepper-coloured hair on the nose actually bristled. It was a disturbance -of this kind that checked the easy flow of Inman’s speech. - -He stood unmoved until the spluttered oaths had run out, but was -inwardly surprised at the quick, volcanic outburst, and contemptuously -amused. Not a sign of this, however, was revealed by his expression. - -“Devil take you, with your ‘shalls’ and your ‘cans’,” hissed Mr. Briggs. -“When I want a boss I’ll let you know. You’re a piece too clever, young -fellow, for a plain man like me. You’re a cock ’at crows over loud and -’ud want all t’ yard to yourself. Here!” he tossed the envelope back to -Inman, who caught it and thrust it into his pocket; then, as he turned -down the lamp, he remarked gruffly: - -“I’ll bid you good-night. There’s nothing here for you, young man.” - -Inman allowed his eyes to drop and spoke softly. - -“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “I’ve been used to town ways, and my tongue -was a bit free, maybe. I meant no harm, and as for being boss, that’s a -cap that doesn’t fit my head. If you care to try me I’ll serve you well, -and you’ll get no ‘lip’ from me.” - -The allusion was craftily designed to bring the master back to -realities, but the tone was not aggressive, and Mr. Briggs’ features -unbent. - -“I let no man tell me what I ‘shall’ give him,” he growled. “That’s for -me to say. You’re not in t’ town here bear in mind, with a union to -stand aside you with a stick. I give a man what he’s worth to me, and if -he doesn’t like it, he chucks it, or I chuck him.” - -“Quite so,” Inman assented. “That’ll do for me.” - -“You’re more ready to toe t’ line than I altogether care about,” the -other went on. He was still suspicious, and whilst the mastery in the -grey eyes fascinated it also irritated him. - -“I want a job in the country,” Inman said soothingly. “I want to be -among men o’ my own breed—among moormen. I’m sick to death of the -little painted images of men they have in the towns. They told me in -Scaleber you were a just man, Mr. Briggs—not soft, but just—and I’ll -trust you to give me what I’m worth—that’s all I meant, however badly I -put it.” - -The master threw a keen glance at him, and seeing nothing but frankness -and something not unlike humility in the face and attitude, allowed -himself to be appeased. - -“Well, I’ll try you for an odd week,” he said, “and see what you’re made -of. I could like to teach yon lad a lesson. He’ll be back in t’ morning, -like enough, with his cap in his hands; but I’ll see him blaze before -I’ll stand his jaw. Where’ll you put up for to-night?” - -“I’ll find a spot somewhere,” Inman replied indifferently. - -“Will you step in and have a bite o’ bread before you go down t’ -village?” Mr. Briggs inquired gruffly, and with no heartiness to season -the invitation. “My sister’ll happen know o’ somebody ’at’ll give you a -bed.” - -A light came into the man’s eyes for a second or two, but he quickly -curtained it. - -“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll not trouble you. There’ll be an inn, I -reckon. I’ll go down there.” - - - CHAPTER II - - IN WHICH INMAN RECEIVES A COLD RECEPTION AND - SOME INFORMATION - -A FEEBLE moon lit up the darkness that had fallen rapidly whilst he -had been engaged with the master-carpenter, and enabled Inman to find -his way without difficulty down the sloping street to the green, where -the weather-beaten inn squatted in close proximity to the purling -river—a baby stream of mysterious origin, and only a mile or two old, -if one may put it so. - -A few other houses, substantially but plainly built of millstone grit -and limestone, and varying from the humble whitewashed cottages of the -labouring classes to the more pretentious dwellings of farmers and -apartment-providers faced the green on three sides. An hotel of somewhat -imposing dimensions stood back a few yards from the main road on the -west; but after one brief glance in that direction Inman turned on his -heel, and crossing the stream and the upper section of the green entered -the low door of “The Packhorse,” and found himself in a well-filled -room, where he discerned amidst the smoke the features of the phlegmatic -elders who had been silent witnesses of the scene at the carpenter’s. - -His entrance interrupted the conversation for a few seconds only, and -when he had ordered and been served with a pot of ale, he rested his -chin on his hands and set himself to pick up the threads. It was quite -evident that the incident in which he had taken part had been under -discussion for some time, and he was quick to realise that his action, -the ultimate result of which was not known, had aroused some measure of -resentment. The knowledge amused without embarrassing him; but he masked -his features as carefully as he had done in the master’s office. - -“A trew word, as Jagger tell’d him,” said an elderly man whose beard -bore wintry evidences of a former fiery splendour. “I mind when he wor -nowt but a wisp of a lad and laiked taws[1] wi’ t’ rest on us he wor a -rare trader; and there worn’t many he didn’t diddle out o’ all their -glass uns. Allus for his-sen, wor Baldwin, and t’ owder he gets t’ worse -he becomes.” - -“It’s t’ way o’ t’ world, Swith’n,” a spare, undersized man of advanced -age observed in a thin, leaking voice that whistled at every sibilant. -“I made a verse of it when I wor a young man i’ my prime. I can’t think -o’ things same as I use to could. When I try to call ’em up it’s same as -they start a-dancin’ a polka, and I can’t pick out one from t’other. I -know ‘pelf’ came at t’ end o’ one line and ‘self’ at t’other. It wor a -good rhyme, and t’ plain meanin’ of it wor ’at it’s i’ t’ way o’ Natur’ -for a man to look after his-sen. I had a gift i’ them days for puttin’ -my thoughts into verse.” - -“And uncommon well you did it, Ambrus; that’s a fact,” admitted Swithin, -whilst two or three others grunted approval. - -“Common metre, short metre, six-lines-eights and sometimes a peculiar -metre,” said the old man with manifest gratification; “it wor all one to -me when I wor i’ that gifted mood. My mother traced it back to her -gran’father ’at ’ad been a fearful good hand at a bass fiddle i’ t’ Gurt -Revival, and could play any tune o’ Wesley’s in his cups.” - -“Aye, there’s been gifts wasted i’ your family, Ambrus; there’s no -getting over that,” said Swithin with a solemn headshake, “but none o’ -your lot has had t’ gift o’ making brass. Contraireywise, brass pours in -to Baldwin same as watter to t’ Cove.” - -“But it doesn’t pour out i’ t’ same way,” laughed a younger man. “T’ -Cove passes it on to watter t’ land, Swithin. Baldwin hugs it to -his-sen.” - -“Not so fast, lad,” replied Swithin; “tha wants to make sure ’at that -egg tha’s laid isn’t a pot ’un before tha clucks so loud. Has tha never -heard tell ’at there’s tremendious deep pits behind t’ Cove ’at’s got to -be filled wi’ t’ watter from t’ Tarn before any creeps out into t’ river -bed? It serves it-sen, does t’ beck, before it spares owt for anybody -else; and all t’ land gets is t’ overflow. Same way wi’ Baldwin.” - -He glanced round the company and reading approval in Inman’s eyes -allowed his own to suggest what would have been a wink in a more jocund -man. - -“Nay, nay,” he continued as nobody seemed disposed either to applaud or -challenge his contention; “I’m one ’at ’ud go a long way o’ t’ same road -wi’ Baldwin ’cause it’s both natur’ and religion. Natur’ seems all for -it-sen, and I suppose them ’at set things going ordered it i’ that way.” - -“Maniwel wouldn’t say so,” the young man who had spoken before ventured -to interpose. - -“Maniwel’ll maybe fiddle another tune if Baldwin holds to his word and -sacks Jagger,” returned Swithin complacently. “Not but what I’m sorry -for Jagger,” he added after a short interval. “As well-meaning a lad as -there is i’ t’ village, and as handy wi’ his tools as here and there -one. Baldwin can spare Jagger as ill as any.” - -It was evident that Swithin had voiced the common opinion, and each man -present offered his quota of evidence relating to the skill and even -more the conscientiousness of the dismissed workman. Only old Ambrose -and Inman remained silent, and the latter scarcely troubled to hide the -amused contempt that the recital of his predecessor’s virtues called -forth. He was on the point of speaking when there came an interruption -from Ambrose, whose features had been working convulsively for some -time. - -“I’ve got the hang on it,” he said absently: - - “Whether it’s pudden or parish or pelf, - He’s a noodle what doesn’t look after hisself.” - -“I wouldn’t take my Bible oath, neighbours, to them two words ‘parish’ -and ‘noodle’ but t’ meanin’ was t’ same, chewse how.” - -Inman thought this a fitting moment for breaking silence. - -“Well done, grandad,” he exclaimed. “You deserve your pot filling for -that. Take it out o’ this, landlord,” he said, tossing a half-crown to -that worthy who was standing with his back to the fire; “or rather fill -up these other pots, and let me know if I owe you ought.” - -The act of generosity evoked no response, except that one or two of the -younger men grunted a “Good ’ealth!” as they raised the mug to their -lips, but Inman was in no way disconcerted. - -“A moorman needs no introduction to moormen,” he said pleasantly. “I -don’t blame you for being shy o’ strangers, but that’ll wear off. We -shall neighbour kindly, I don’t doubt, for I may as well tell you I’ve -signed on for Mr. Briggs, and I shall be making my home with you.” - -A chilling silence greeted this communication, and the air thickened -with the reek from a dozen pipes, diligently pulled at. - -“It’s every man for himself as our friend here remarked a minute or two -ago,” he continued. “There’d be no progress if it wasn’t so. It’s the -survival of the fittest, as these science chaps put it. The weak _have_ -to go to the wall, or we’d be a nation of noodles before long. You were -right, grandad; noodle’s the word.” - -Even yet nobody spoke. Inman’s speech had cut across the smooth flow of -conversation like another Moses’ rod, and dried it up. Every man stared -stonily at the deal table or sand-strewn floor, and the landlord frowned -and found himself tongue-tied. - -“It isn’t my fault, mind you,” Inman continued more sharply, “that this -other young fellow’s got the sack. That was just accident; just a piece -of luck. ‘Fortune favours the brave,’ and good luck comes to them who -deserve it. That’s my theory; it’s Nature’s way of ensuring progress. -There’s no mercy in Nature for the individual if he stands in the way of -progress. It cares no more for milksops—for noodles, grandad—than it -cares for the fly that’s fast in this spider’s web; no more than I care -for the spider.” - -A grim smile spread over his face as he stretched out a thumb and finger -and carelessly squeezed the life out of the little creature on which his -eye had been resting for the last few moments; but there was no -responsive smile on the countenances of the grim men who watched him. -Nearly every forehead carried a frown or its shadow, and where this was -missing there was a half-hostile stolidity. - -“Every man’s for himself,” he went on, with a hint of impatience in his -tone, for the frosty air of the bar-parlour was beginning to tell on -him; “but lame dogs have to pretend that they don’t like rabbits. Stuff -and nonsense! A man who isn’t for himself deserves to go under and it’s -a kindness to help him.” - -He leaned back defiantly; but there was still no reply. Swithin pushed -back his chair and pulled forward his hat. “I’ll be saying ‘good-night’ -neighbours,” he said, “I’ll have to be stirring i’ good time i’ t’ -morning,” and several others rose and left the room with him. Ten -minutes later the rest had emptied their mugs and gone, and Inman was -left with old Ambrose and the innkeeper. There was a scowl upon the -latter’s face that caused the young man to say with a laugh: - -“Come, come, landlord, the loss of a handful of coppers won’t bank you. -Mix yourself and me a whisky apiece and keep grandad’s pot filled. -There’s room for three round that fire—pull a chair up to it and bid -dull care begone.” - -He crossed over himself and sat down comfortably with his legs stretched -out on the hearth. Ambrose occupied the corner seat, and the landlord, -whose brow had cleared as he perceived that the defection of his regular -customers was not likely to impoverish his till, seated himself at the -opposite end. - -“A bit touchy, these neighbours of ours,” Inman suggested with a laugh. -“Don’t exactly hold out the right hand of fellowship, d’you think? But -I’m a moorman myself, though I’ve been a renegade the last ten years, -and I know their feelings for ‘offcomeduns,’ as we called newcomers in -my part of the world.” - -“And what part might that ha’ been?” inquired the landlord. - -“Worth way,” he answered shortly. “There’s surly dogs bred in Worth -Valley, I can tell you—dogs with a snap in their teeth; dogs that like -to be _top_ dog and intend to be.” - -It was said meaningly, though it was accompanied by another laugh, and -the landlord eyed him thoughtfully. - -“This man, Jagger; what sort of a fellow is he?” Inman went on. “Not one -of your best customers, I reckon?” - -“He never tastes,” the landlord replied, “unless its a ginger-ale or -summat o’ that sort now and again. It isn’t oft he darkens this door, -but his father, Maniwel’ll come and sit for an hour now and then, though -he puts naught much i’ my pocket. All t’ same”—the landlord’s clan -loyalty triumphing over the narrower emotion of self-interest—“they’re -nayther of ’em a bad sort; nayther Maniwel nor Jagger.” - -“Two o’ t’ best,” Ambrose added. “I mind well makin’ happen six verses -for Maniwel to recite at a teetotal meetin’—dearie me! it mun be forty -year back. Terrible bad word it is, an’ all, for verse. That wor afore -Maniwel happened his accident.” - -“Afore he happened his accident!” the landlord laughed. “Why, man alive! -he was a lad when he said them verses, and it isn’t more’n ten year -since he lost his arm.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder,” assented Ambrose; “it was sin’ I giv’ up making -verses now I come to think of it. If I’d ha’ been i’ my prime I could -ha’ made a set o’ grand verses out o’ Maniwel’s arm.” - -“Who is this Maniwel?” inquired Inman with some impatience. “Jagger’s -father, you say, and a kind of local oracle, I gather?” - -“Oracle or no oracle,” replied the landlord, who was not going to commit -himself on a term with whose meaning he was unfamiliar; “he’s most -people’s good word, and if Baldwin Briggs isn’t among ’em it’s because -Maniwel won’t knuckle under to him. And why should he, when they worked -side by side at t’ same bench and saw-mill for thirty year and more, and -him t’ best man o’ t’ two? There is them ’at says ’at if he hadn’t lost -his arm Baldwin ’ud never ha’ getten t’ business; but that’s as may be. -To make matters worse there’s a lass i’ t’ case, and where there’s -lasses there’s mischief.” - -Ambrose chuckled. “A trew word, Albert, and brings up a verse about -lasses I——” - -“Never mind your verses,” Inman broke in. “What about this particular -lass, landlord; and how did she come to concern this Maniwel and Baldwin -Briggs?” - -“Well, you see,” the landlord explained, “t’ saw-mill belonged her -father, Tom Clegg, and it was only a poorish sort of a business in Tom’s -time. Tom had part brass and only this lass to leave it to, and besides -being as queer as Dick’s hatband, he’d summat growing in his inside ’at -took all t’ sperrit out of him, as it would out o’ most men. - -“Well, he tried to sell t’ business when he knew he couldn’t last much -longer but nobody’d give him his price, so he let on a new scheme. -Maniwel and Baldwin were his main hands, and he made each on ’em t’ boss -for a year. He went off down south wi’ t’ lass, and Baldwin took hold, -and varry well he did. Then, when t’ year was up and they’d ta’en their -stock, it was Maniwel’s turn and it seemed as if he were going to top -Baldwin when t’ accident happened, and t’ saw caught his thumb. It -seemed naught much at t’ time but he’d ha’ done better to ha’ seen a -doctor, for it turned to blood-poisoning and there was naught for it but -to take his arm off. Aye, and even then he near-hand lost his life. - -“Of course Baldwin had to take hold again then, for by this time Tom was -at t’ last gasp, and to mend matters he died afore Maniwel came out o’ -t’ hospital. When they read his will it turned out ’at he’d left all his -brass to his lass, but part on it was to stop i’ t’ business for -capital. And he left t’ goodwill o’ t’ business to him ’at ’ad made t’ -most brass during t’ year he’d been i’ charge, barring ’at he’d to pay -his lass part o’ t’ profits. It was all worked out by a lawyer so as -Nancy wasn’t a partner, you understand; but she must ha’ done fairly -well, for Baldwin’s made brass, there’s no question o’ that.” - -Inman’s face expressed his interest. - -“Then Baldwin got the business, you say?” - -“More’n that,” continued the landlord; “he’d to be guardian to t’ lass. -She wouldn’t be more’n eleven or twelve at t’ time, and Baldwin wasn’t a -married man, but he took t’ job on, I can tell you.” - -“And what about Maniwel?” inquired Inman. “Was there no law over t’ job? -If it had been me I should ha’ tried to make a case out.” - -“Maniwel’s no fighting man,” the landlord replied, “and he was on his -back. But there was them ’at ’ud have made a fight for him if he’d ha’ -let ’em. All t’ same t’ lawyers said Baldwin was in t’ right.” - -“Pigeon livers run in families,” said Inman. “I could have guessed -father when I saw son. But what of the girl, landlord? It was a mad whim -of the father to hand her over in a haphazard sort of way to the highest -bidder, and one of his own workmen at that. How did the lass take it? -Was she dove or donkey—lamb or lion?” - -The landlord spat into the fire and withheld reply for some moments. - -“You mun ask someb’dy ’at knows better ’n me,” he said at length -cautiously. “Nancy’s as deep as t’ Tarn, and as proud and hot-tempered -as a broody hen. She stops with him, anyway, though she’s been her own -missus a year and more. Some say they fratch like two bantams, but I’ve -never come across them ’at’s heard ’em; and as for Keturah -Briggs—that’s Baldwin’s sister ’at’s always kept house for him—she’s a -quarry you can neither pick nor blast. They keep theirselves _to_ -theirselves, and give naught away, does t’ Briggses.” - -“And is she content, this Nancy,” inquired Inman indifferently, “to be -shut up in a village like this? Has she no desire, think you, to see the -world and have her fling like other lasses?” - -The question ended on a half-suppressed yawn; but the landlord shot an -inquiring glance before he replied: - -“You said you were moorland born yourself, and hankered after t’ moors. -Maybe Nancy’s t’ same, but if you’ve signed on wi’ Baldwin you’ll be -able to ask her. She’s been away a toathri weeks in a town; but whether -it’s smittled her or no I know no more’n you. She’s back again, choose -how. Maybe there’s summat i’ t’ village she can’t get i’ t’ town?” - -“Fresh air and sunshine?” queried Inman sleepily. “That’s so, I suppose; -but lasses like pictures, and the pit of a music-hall or a band in the -park in summer time, where they can see what other women carry on their -heads and backs.” - -“Aye, that’s right enough,” responded the landlord; “but I’ve known when -a pair o’ corduroy breeches and a coat you couldn’t pawn has had a -bigger pull than all t’ ribbons and laces you could lay your hands on.” - -A quick light leaped to Inman’s eyes, and a frown that was instantly -suppressed mounted his brow. - -“I see,” he queried, with an inflection of amusement; “then Miss Nancy -has a lover?” - -“That’s more’n I’ve said,” replied the landlord curtly. “She doesn’t -hand me her secrets to lock up.” - -Inman laughed and rose. “I’ll have a bed with you, landlord,” he said, -“if you’ll get one ready. This good fire after a rough walk has made me -sleepy. I’ll stroll round for half an hour before turning in.” - ------ - -[1] Played marbles. - - - CHAPTER III - - IN WHICH MANIWEL DRAKE MAKES A SUGGESTION - -THE cottage had its full complement of occupants when Jagger entered, -and the noise of his “bass” as he dropped it on the stone floor and -pushed it noisily with his foot alongside an old-fashioned chest of -drawers that stood against the wall, caused each of them to look up. -Hannah, his sister and the family housekeeper, turned again at once to -the grid-iron on which something was grilling for the evening meal; but -the father’s eyes fixed themselves on the young man’s face. - -“That’s right, lad,” he said, as he let the weekly paper he had been -reading fall to his knees; “take it out of t’ bass! It’s as meek as -Moses and’ll say naught. Who’s been treading on your corns this time?” - -“T’ bass may lie there while I find another job,” said Jagger surlily, -untying his apron as he spoke. “I’m paid off. Baldwin’s stalled, and so -am I.” - -Hannah said nothing, but an exclamation came from the other side of the -hearth where Grannie Drake was busy with her darning needles—a wordless -exclamation produced by the tip of the tongue and the roof of the mouth -in conjunction; and the old woman rested her hands on her lap whilst she -turned her spectacled eyes on her grandson. - -“Stalled of each other, are you?” It was the father who spoke and there -was humour in his voice and in the eyes that scrutinised the other’s -face. “Well, bad news’ll keep. Get you washed and we’ll have our tea; -and then if you think you’ve got to make all our coffins ’cause -Baldwin’s sacked you I’ll help you to take t’ measures.” - -Jagger’s face clouded more heavily and Hannah stole a glance at it as -her brother opened the scullery door; but he avoided her gaze; and she -wheeled round and looked into her father’s eyes with a smile on her lips -that was both question and comment. Maniwel had picked up his paper -again and was apparently engaged with its contents but the smile reached -his consciousness and he glanced up and met his daughter’s eyes. - -“You two ought to have changed places,” he said with grim pleasantry, -“Jagger’d have made a good lass.” - -“And me a fine lad!” she commented. “It can’t be helped; we’re as we -are.” - -She turned the kidneys on to a hot dish and the good smell filled the -room. “I could almost wish it was Baldwin I had on t’ bars,” she -remarked and her father laughed. - -“According to t’ Book, lass, t’ best way would be to heap t’ fire on his -head and try to melt his heart. Your grannie turns her nose up. You -think they’re getting t’ grid-iron ready for him in t’ hot place, eh -mother? Well, maybe they are; but that’s devil’s work, anyway.” - -He tossed the newspaper into the window bottom as he spoke and drew his -chair up to the table. The sleeve of his right arm was pinned to his -coat, but if the defect were overlooked, he was a fine figure of a -man—tall, erect, broad-shouldered and well-proportioned. His hair and -beard were thick and only faintly streaked with grey, and the firm lips -and deep chin and straight nose, together with the placidly-playful -brown eyes, indexed a character that was at the same time virile and -sympathetic. In some respects the son was like him; but the mouth was -sulkier, the chin weaker, and the eyes lacked humour—you had to turn to -the daughter to find the father’s features reproduced more successfully, -though not his frame. - -“It’ll blow over, softhead,” said Hannah, with sisterly candour as -Jagger made slow headway, staring moodily at his plate instead of -eating. “Get on with your tea before it goes cold. I wouldn’t miss a -good meal for t’ best man living; much less for one o’ t’ worst.” - -“It isn’t going to blow over,” the young man burst out hotly. “If it -does there’ll be another storm before t’ week’s out and we shall have it -all to go through again. I’ve got just about to t’ far end, father, and -I may as well chuck it now as next week or next month.” - -Maniwel raised his eyes for a moment and regarded his son steadily, but -all he said was: - -“Get on with your tea as Hannah tells you. If you’ve got to fight -trouble never do it on an empty belly. Them kidneys are wasted on you.” - -He himself was eating with evident enjoyment and making good progress in -spite of his handicap; and it was grannie who continued the -conversation. - -“A bad lot is Baldwin Briggs, and the son and grandson of bad ’uns; -black-hearted as t’ bog and hard as t’ rock on Gordel; all for -theirselves, and ne’er troubling to put a fair face on i’ front o’ their -neighbours; and that mean they’d let crows pick their bones to save a -burying——” - -They were strong words for such a thin, weak voice; and they conveyed -the impression of a strong will. The deeply seamed shrivelled face, in -which the sunken eyes were dim as unclean lanterns and the receding -mouth gave away the secret of tenantless gums, was that of a woman who -had ruled her household in her day, and with a firm hand. Her eyes were -fixed on her grandson and the jaw continued to move long after her son -interrupted her. - -“Now come, mother,” said he, “let’s give Baldwin a rest. A bad ’un he -may be, but if badness was passed on from his grandfather same as t’ -twist of his mouth and them nose-whiskers of his, he’s more to be pitied -than blamed. But trouble’s as you make it, and a poor seasoning for meat -at any time. Jagger’ll none burst if he bottles his for a while, so -we’ll just keep t’ cork in and enjoy what’s set before us, if you -please.” - -Jagger made an impatient gesture; but catching the warning look in -Hannah’s eye restrained himself, and went on with his meal. Grannie, -however, ate little and was not to be silenced; indeed she was -apparently unconscious of the prohibition. The half-sightless eyes -stared into space as if she saw there the ghosts of the dead whom memory -had summoned. - -“There was never but one son born to any Briggses. There mud be as many -as half a dozen lasses, and Keturah’s great-aunt, I bethink me, had -nine; but there was never more nor one lad in any o’ their families, and -he was always a Baldwin and always a bad ’un, and came to a bad end.” - -Maniwel’s fist came down upon the table with a force that set all the -pots a-dancing. - -“That’ll do, mother,” said he. “Give a dog a bad name and it’ll live up -to it. Baldwin isn’t dead yet, and there’s room for him to mend. Pour -your grannie out a cup more tea, Hannah, and keep her busy, or we shall -be having all t’ Briggses’ corpses for generations back laid aside o’ t’ -table before we’ve finished.” - -He began roughly but ended on a note of humour and the meal was -completed without further incident. - -Then as grannie returned to her seat and Hannah cleared the table -Maniwel bade his son draw up to the hearth. - -“Now,” he said, “let’s hear what’s been amiss between you and Baldwin.” - -The look of strain and annoyance had never left the young man’s face, -and he scowled heavily, goaded by his father’s half bantering tone. His -long legs were thrust out on to the hearth, his hands were buried in his -trousers pockets, and his temper, like his limbs, was at full stretch. - -“You think it’s same as it has been before,” he said sullenly—“we’ve -fallen out and we shall fall in again; but if he comes on his bended -knees I’ve finished with him. I’d sooner beg my bread or starve than -I’d——” - -“Aye, aye,” interrupted his father. “You can cut out all t’ -high-and-mighty, lad, and get down to bed-rock. What’s he sacked you -for?” - -“For asking for a rise,” Jagger answered hotly. “I work hours and hours -overtime as you know well without as much as a ‘Thank-ye’ for my labour; -and t’ harder I work t’ less he thinks of me. I told him he was fond -enough of putting his claim in when he was man instead of master, and he -laughed in my face. He said he was for himself then and he’s for himself -now, and for once in his life he spoke t’ truth. But it didn’t end -there. He says I rob him because I won’t scamp my work and diddle his -customers; and that filled t’ cup up, and I brought my bass home. You -have it all there; he isn’t a man, he’s a devil.” - -“Maybe he is,” the father replied coolly, “or if he isn’t he keeps a -lodging-house in his inside for them o’ that breed, same as most of us; -and they’re like as they’ve got t’ upper hand o’ t’ Briggses, as your -grannie says. However, we’ll keep to bed-rock—Baldwin’ll none come on -his bended knees; but if you were to bend your stiff neck and go to -him——.” - -“I’ll see him hanged first!” - -“Well, he keeps inside o’ t’ law, does Baldwin, and I doubt if they’ve -started making t’ rope ’at’ll hang him, so we’ll move on a step; what -are you thinking of doing?” - -The frown on Jagger’s brow beetled the deep caverns of his eyes; but the -tone in which he replied that he supposed he must leave the village and -seek a job in the town, where jobs were plentiful and wages were -regulated by the unions, was not convincing. - -“And what sort of a show would you make in a town?” Hannah’s voice broke -in. “You that has t’ moor in your blood! You’d choke! Ling doesn’t grow -on paved streets and it’s poor fishing you’ll get in a bath-room!” - -“You can do without what you can’t get. Needs must when the devil -drives, as I told Baldwin. I shan’t be t’ first who’s left t’ village -and made his way in t’ town.” - -“If you make your way in t’ town you’ll be t’ first i’ our family that -ever managed it,” said his father. “Not that I’m again’ you trying it, -mind you, if there isn’t a better way, though there is an old wife’s -tale that no Drake comes to any good that turns his back on t’ moor.” - -“It’s true, Maniwel; God’s truth it is,” the old woman across the hearth -interposed sharply; “and no old wife’s tale, neither. Didn’t they bring -your Uncle Ben back with a stroke on him and all his money ’at he’d -piled up sunk like a rock i’ t’ Tarn; and him thankful for sup and bite -out o’ them he’d looked down on. And there was your great-uncle, -Rueben——” - -“Aye, aye, mother,” her son broke in pleasantly; “and there was his -father before him, that they buried at t’ cross roads with a stake in -his inside and made a tale of. I know all t’ catalogue of shockers; but -I’m t’ wrong man to be frightened o’ boggards, and I could wish our -Jagger was. If t’ finger o’ duty pointed me to t’ town I’d follow it -same as Luther talked about if it rained boggards and I’d to wade -through ’em up to t’ waist, but I doubt if Jagger’s grit enough.” - -“You’re over hard on him, father,” expostulated Hannah who was standing, -dish-cloth in hand, at the scullery-door; and her brother forced a -bitter laugh. - -“What do I care how hard he is! I know he thinks I’m a milksop because I -haven’t his spirit, and don’t laugh when things go all wrong. But where -is there another thinks as he does ’at if you go straight all ’ll turn -out for t’ best? What has he to show for his belief but an empty -sleeve?” - -A red flush surged over his neck and face as he completed the sentence; -and half-ashamed of his outburst he looked into his father’s face. - -“Nay, lad, you’ve no ’casion to run t’ red flag up,” Maniwel replied; -but there was nothing bantering in his tone now, and his face had -sobered. “If we’d windows to our hearts you’d happen be capped to see -what there is inside o’ mine, both good and bad; but one thing you -_would_ find if you looked close—you’d find ’at my belief, as you call -it, had brought me a deal more than an empty sleeve, and you’d see -naught ’at I’m ashamed of in my thoughts of you.” - -“You oughtn’t to have said that, Jagger,” said his sister reproachfully; -but her father waved the rebuke aside. - -“I’d sooner a blain showed on his lip than fester under t’ skin, and -I’ve tried to learn you both to speak your minds. For twenty years I’ve -done my best to walk t’ street called Straight, and I’ve got it rooted -in my mind ’at there’s no better road. Baldwin favours t’ street called -Crook’d, as long as it isn’t _too_ crook’d, ’cause he thinks it’s a -short cut to t’ Land o’ Plenty. I think he’s mista’en; but whether he is -or no I should be sorry for any lad o’ mine to follow him; and that’s -why I’m glad ’at Jagger goes by t’ straight road even if he grumbles at -t’ ruts.” - -There was just a hint of suspicion in the eyes Jagger turned on his -father’s face but what he saw there reassured him and his brow cleared a -little. His tone, however, was still gruff as he said: - -“Crook’d ways seem to pay all right. They landed Baldwin’s feet in Mr. -Clegg’s shoes and put money in his purse; and t’ street called Straight -has done precious little for us. If it pays to do right, how is it that -you happened your accident and how is it I get sacked? I suppose it’ll -be made up to us i’ heaven!” - -The suggestion was something less than a sneer, in that it conveyed a -want of understanding as honest as Job’s in similar, if more tragic, -circumstances, and the father read it as such. - -“All I know about heaven,” he said, “and all I want to know, is ’at t’ -street called Straight runs through it as well as to it, and if it -doesn’t put money in your purse it keeps t’ fountain sweet in your soul, -and that’s something. But walking straight doesn’t take t’ bite out o’ -t’ teeth of a circ’lar saw when you run your thumb again’ it, and it -doesn’t take trouble out o’ life. All t’ same if you’re frightened o’ -trouble you’re as like to meet with it on t’ crook’d road as on t’ -straight.” - -“Now look you here, lad,” he continued as his son made no reply; “if -you’ll get out o’ t’ cradle and give up supping dill-water, but stand on -your feet like a man I’ll help you to plan something out. I’m none for -you going back to Baldwin, though I don’t doubt he expects it; and I’m -none for you leaving t’ village unless you’re forced. You’re a moorman, -and t’ moor’s in your blood as Hannah says, same as it’s i’ mine. It’ll -call you and rive at your heart strings if you put t’ sea between you -and it. You’d hear t’ pipit ‘peep-peeping’ over t’ heather and t’ -jackdaws cawing on Gordel; and you’d see t’ trout leaping i’ t’ beck and -t’ dippers plunging their white breasts into t’ water below t’ Cove if -you were in t’ thick o’ London streets——” - -“And it’s a bad end you’d come to, Jagger. Some can do it and be no -worse for’t, but there’s naught but ill follows them Drakes that leaves -t’ moor; don’t ee do it, my lad!” Grannie’s voice was pleading, and her -eyes were troubled. - -“Let’s hear what father has in his mind,” said Hannah who had joined the -group and drawn a chair up to the hearth. Then she turned to her father. -“You oughtn’t to plague him with talking of ‘dill-water’ and such like. -If it was me it ’ud get my back up.” - -“Aye, right enough,” said Maniwel with a significance that the girl -resented though it left Jagger unmoved; “but I’ll get to t’ point. -There’s been a notion i’ my head for some time back ’at we happen -couldn’t do better than start i’ business for ourselves. There’s room -for two i’ t’ village, if one’s a small ’un, and small we should have to -be ’cause all t’ brass we should have ’ud be that three hundred ’at’s -lying out at interest wi’ John Clegg. But if Jagger’s willing I’ll call -it in, and we’ll fix up a bit of a shop and get to work. It’ll be a poor -do if between us we can’t make a living; for if I’ve got shut of an arm -I’ve kept my head, and that’ll come in handy when Jagger loses his. T’ -big jobs’ll have to go to Baldwin ’cause we shan’t have neither machines -nor capital; but there’ll be enough little ’uns to keep some meal i’ t’ -barrel, I’ll warrant. What think you, lad?” - -A complete change had come over Jagger whilst his father was speaking -and the face was now that of another man. The brow became unbent and the -eyes mild and pleasant. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and -rubbed them together slowly like one who anticipates a satisfaction near -at hand. - -“By gen, it’s a trump card! I’d give a dollar to see Baldwin’s face when -he hears tell what we’re doing! Jobs? There’ll be no lack of ’em. I -mayn’t have your headpiece for scheming out ways and means, but Baldwin -hasn’t a man in his shop ’at can come near me at my job, and there’s -more than him knows it. It’ll serve the old lickpenny right, and teach -him not to rob widows. Where’ll we find a shop?” - -Maniwel looked at him steadily for a moment or two, and Hannah watched -her father’s face, knowing what he was thinking. - -“When folks are in a hurry to swallow they have to have their meat -minced for ’em. It ’ud suit me better, lad, if you’d get off spoon-food, -and begin to chew for yourself. You’ve jumped at this plan o’ mine same -as a bairn at a rattle. You’d better sleep on it, and then we’ll talk -about t’ shop. But if we do start for ourselves it shall be in t’ street -called Straight, anyway. Baldwin’s for himself all t’ way through; we’ll -be for ourselves and company.” - -Hannah turned to look at her brother; but it was evident he had only -partly heard his father’s remarks, being engaged with his own thoughts; -and her brow bent into an expression of impatience. - - - CHAPTER IV - - IN WHICH THE WOMAN ENTERS WITH THE SERPENT - -THREE hours later Hannah and Jagger were alone, but for a while -neither of them had much to say. To watch the changing expression on the -woman’s face you would have said that tenderness and contempt were -striving for the mastery on the battlefield of her soul and that the -issue was uncertain. Hannah was only thirty but Nature had taken little -pains in her fashioning, leaving her angular in outline and pinched in -features; and responsibility had unloaded its burden on her shoulders at -an age when most girls are unfettered or at worst in leading-strings, -for the mother had died when Hannah was fourteen. Ten years later the -grandmother, recently widowed, had come to share the home and the income -and to add to the girl’s trials. Grannie was masterful; but Hannah was -mistress and had no mind at twenty-four to bend her neck to the -authority of seventy-five. The encounters that took place were by tacit -consent of both parties confined to occasions when the men-folk were out -of hearing, and victory was not always on one side, but in the end -Hannah triumphed, and her crowning achievement, the trophy of her -success, was not in the subjugation but the conversion of her -grandmother. In the hour that grannie lay down her arms she confessed -that she “liked a lass o’ mettle,” and could rest satisfied that one of -the family had “a bit o’ bite in her,” now that Maniwel had turned queer -in his head, and had bred a son whose bark was loud enough but who never -bared his teeth in the good old moorland fashion. From that time -Hannah’s ascendancy had been undisputed, but the conflict, and the -anxiety that had attended her father’s accident, had left their mark -upon her features which contradicted the parish register by ten years at -least. - -You had only to enter the cottage to discover at once where Hannah’s -energies found their outlet and justification. If her house was no -cleaner than the houses of her neighbours it was to their credit and not -to her disparagement. Not all the women of Mawm made pretensions of -godliness but there were few who did not worship at the shrine of -cleanliness, and with no mere lip-service—were they not Yorkshire folk -and moor-folk? - -“Cleanliness next to godliness?” Yea, verily; and in that order. - -There was something about the Drakes’ cottage, however, that was not -found everywhere; something not quite definable—a daintiness, a touch -of refinement, revealed in the harmony of colours and the sight of -flowers, perhaps, and accentuated by the absence of anything that -jarred. It was Hannah’s doing, but it aroused neither admiration nor -envy in the breasts of her neighbours, none of whom was very concerned -to inquire how it was that the Drakes’ home was the cosiest and -pleasantest in the village. - -Having been sent into the world by a watchful Providence four years in -advance of her brother, and installed by force of circumstances in the -position of mother to the boy of ten, the girl recognised in the -position a special responsibility which she changed into a privilege. -Other lads, other young men, rather annoyed her; she treated them with -the scant attention that is almost a discourtesy; but she lavished a -mother’s as well as a sister’s affection on Jagger, and did her best to -correct the faults in his character which the maternal instinct enabled -her to remark even before they became apparent to the quick eyes of her -father. It was quite in accordance with her nature that she rarely -discussed her hopes and fears and difficulties with her father, though -she endowed him in her thoughts with all the virtues of the superman; a -sense of loyalty to her brother and also a recognition of her father’s -ability to deal with the situation held her back. But she lost no -opportunity to repress the boy’s tendencies to indulge in a -half-feminine peevishness that made him moody and irritable, and,—to -one of her temperament—even contemptible. It had the same effect on her -father; but what she fought against in herself she could not tolerate in -another, so the exhibition of disdain in look or word always brought her -to arms. - -The room was looking particularly attractive in the yellow light of the -lamp and the red glow of the dwindling fire, and as Hannah leaned back -in the chair grannie had vacated an hour before and listened to the wind -which was now howling about the door, her eyes rested with an appraising -scrutiny on this article and that as if she were determining what ravage -of to-day would call for first attention on the morrow. - -Jagger had not moved from his place on the hearth, and sat with his head -in his hands gazing into the embers where he had already built -sufficient wooden castles to line the banks of the Rhine. It was one of -Jagger’s faults (or excellences, if that is your point of view) that he -was ready to build without troubling his brain over much on the subject -of foundations. - -Hannah’s eyes fell from the two hams that were suspended from the -rafters to the bowl of chrysanthemums on the chest of drawers, and -finally rested on the big Bible that lay open beneath the lamp, where -her father had left it when he went upstairs to bed, and her thoughts -were diverted. - -“There are some queer ideas in t’ Bible,” she remarked, “some of them he -read to-night there isn’t many goes by—not in this neighbourhood, -anyway.” - -Jagger roused himself and yawned. “I never heard a word he read,” he -admitted. “I was putting t’ new shop up and getting some bill-heads -printed—‘Drake and Son, Timber Merchants and Contractors, Mawm.’ I -could very near forgive Baldwin for sacking me.” - -“‘Timber Merchants and Contractors!’” repeated Hannah with a scornful -intonation that ought to have crumpled up her brother like a blighted -leaf. “‘All kinds of jobbing work promptly attended to’ would be nearer -t’ mark. If you weren’t my own brother I should think you a fool. One -minute you’re at t’ bottom o’ Gordel and all t’ Scar tumbling on you, -and t’ next you’re atop o’ Fountain Fell with your head in t’ clouds. -You’d be in a poor way if it wasn’t for father; and it ’ud pay you to -take a leaf out of his book as I’ve told you hundreds o’ times. _He_ -keeps his head in all weathers, and naught moves him. He’s a pauper -compared wi’ Baldwin; but to listen to him you’d think he was a -millionaire, like Mr. Harris. ‘As having nothing, yet possessing all -things.’ His face fair lit up when he read it.” - -Jagger’s lip curled and he spoke impatiently. “It’s a fad he’s got into -his head and it’s turned him soft. You ask grannie what she thinks about -it! With notions like his no man could make his way—always bending his -back for someone else to climb up on his shoulders. I’m tired of being -naught but a ladder, but father thinks it’s what we’re here for. You’ve -to look after yourself in this world, and leave other folks to look -after theirselves.” - -Hannah leaned back in her chair and regarded her brother with a scornful -look. - -“That’s Baldwin’s motto,” she said. “You’d better go partners with -_him_, Jagger Drake. ‘All for my-sen!’ I thought that was what him and -you had quarrelled over. You want to know your own mind, my lad, and -find out whose side you’re on before you start in business for -yourself.” - -“I’m not such a mean devil as Baldwin is,” he returned, flushing a -little; and his sister replied: - -“Happen you dursn’t be; but ‘all for my-sen’ ’ud soon bring you to where -he stands. You can’t blow both hot and cold at t’ same time; and you -want to know where you are, as I say, before you put your sign up.” - -The only reply was a scowl and Hannah changed her tone. - -“I’m vexing you,” she said soothingly; “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s -as father says, you go t’ straight road if you grumble at t’ ruts; but I -wish from my soul you weren’t always looking as if you’d made a meal o’ -baking-powder.” - -The conversation was interrupted at this point by a knock at the door -and the raising of the latch, and as Hannah got to her feet a girl -entered the room and unwrapped the scarf that had covered her neck and -shoulders. Jagger’s face lost its look of inertness when he recognised -the visitor. - -“Nay, Nancy! Who’d have thought of you popping in at this time o’ -night?” was Hannah’s greeting; but the tone was cordial and not as -overcharged with surprise as the words implied. - -“Do you call it late?” the newcomer asked indifferently. “In Airlee we -should have said the evening was just beginning. _I’m_ not going to bed -just yet, but I won’t keep you two up though Jagger’ll be able to lie a -bit longer than usual in the morning. Keturah’s only just told me that -you’re sacked,” she continued, turning eyes that were more curious than -sympathetic on the young man; “and that a stranger has got your job; and -I dodged them both and came down to see what you’re going to do.” - -“A stranger got my job, do you say?” inquired Jagger as Nancy sat down -in his father’s chair. “Who is he?” - -He was vexed, and face and tone showed it; it was just another instance -of Baldwin’s cursed good luck. - -“I don’t know. Somebody who had walked over from Scaleber to seek a job, -and heard you rowing.” - -“We didn’t row,” returned Jagger. “I just told Mr. Briggs a thing or two -that was on my mind as quietly as I’m talking to you now, and then he -slipped his temper and went for me tooth and nail. Called me a thief -into t’ bargain, and that bides a bit of swallowing.” - -“He’ll take you on again,” said Nancy confidently; “not because he loves -you, but because he knows when he’s well served; and I daresay he’ll -give you your rise, too, when his gorge goes down. You’re short of tact, -Jagger. You get naught out of Baldwin by holding a pistol at his head.” - -Jagger laughed, knowingly and triumphantly. “I’ve a card up my sleeve -that’ll pull Mr. Briggs’ face to twice its length. If he was to double -my wage I wouldn’t go back to a man that’s called me thief. I’m starting -for myself, Nancy, as soon as I can get a few things together.” - -“Starting for yourself—here?” The question was rapped out, and the -expression of the speaker’s eyes became suddenly hostile. - -“Aye, here,” he replied; and he looked across at his sister so that he -missed the shadow that swept over their visitor’s face and left it -black. In just the same way does the Tarn that lies on the lap of the -wild moor, 900 feet above the village and overlooked by mountains that -lift their heads hundreds of feet higher still, display its mood—at one -moment calm, unruffled, streaked and dotted with blue, or brilliantly -white with cloud reflections; the next, grey and angry-looking as a -storm leaps up from the south, making the sky leaden. - -Nancy Clegg was only in her twenty-third year, but she was a woman -full-grown and quite conscious of her developed powers. There was an air -of distinction about her that other young women lacked—an air that had -brought men to her side and kept them there even in the city where she -had been spending a few weeks with her uncle’s family, and though she -was rather sparely built, on the model of the moorwoman, she had none of -Hannah’s angularities to destroy the symmetry of her figure, and her -black hair and clear black eyes together with a straight, fine nose and -expressive lips would have made her noticeable in any company and -aroused admiration in most. Few women ever had their features in better -control than she; but there were occasions when she gave them free play -and this was one of them. Hannah noticed the change, and her mouth -tightened. - -“Oh, I see!” said Nancy, and the coldness in the voice caused Jagger to -look up. Instantly his face fell as he saw that his communication was -ill-received. - -“Why shouldn’t I?” he inquired petulantly. “I should never have thought -of starting for myself if he hadn’t sacked me, but you can’t always be -lying down and letting a man wipe his feet on you. A bit of -competition’ll do Baldwin good, and teach him a lesson!” - -“I suppose you won’t expect me to congratulate you, seeing that I’ve an -interest in the business?” she replied coldly; and she stretched out her -hand for the scarf which she proceeded to wrap about her shoulders. “If -you’ve made up your mind there’s nothing more to be said, and I might -have spared myself my errand. Don’t get up, Hannah. I can let myself -out.” - -Poor Jagger! A chill like that of night when the wet mists steal down -the sides of Cawden sent a shiver over his spirits and choked his -speech. In his eagerness to avenge himself upon his master he had -forgotten that Nancy would be affected by the scheme, and Nancy was the -all-important consideration. When he had spoken of his father’s age as -the barrier to his freedom of action he had been half-conscious of -insincerity, and he knew now, if he had not definitely acknowledged it -to himself before, that it was she of the black locks and black eyes and -not his sire who made the thought of leaving Mawm unpalatable. His mind -was not quick enough to grapple with the situation, however, and whilst -he was groping round for a way of escape Hannah’s voice cut the silence. - -“It was father’s idea,” she said with a coldness equal to Nancy’s own, -as she rose and moved towards the door. “Maybe he hadn’t just thought -how it ’ud concern you; but by all accounts Mr. Briggs turns trade -enough away to keep one pair o’ hands busy. You know father well enough, -Nancy, to be sure he’ll do naught to hurt you, and I’m sorry if you take -it amiss. If you were Jagger’s sister you’d be tired o’ seeing him eat -dirt to keep in with a master ’at holds him down. _I’d_ have chucked it -long since, if it had been me.” - -“Jagger’s a right to please himself, and I’m not disputing it,” said -Nancy haughtily; “but if there’s to be two firms in the village you -can’t expect me to be any friend to the second.” - -Jagger had found his tongue by now and he followed the girl to the door -and stood with her in the opening, uttering vehement protests to which -Hannah closed her ears and Nancy listened reluctantly. - -“You’d best think it over,” she said in tones that had lost nothing of -their iciness as she turned away. “I’ll say naught about it at home, -Jagger, in the hope that you’ll change your mind.” - -She walked away rapidly; but hearing footsteps quicken behind her -thought Jagger was following and wheeled round with an impatient -dismissal on her lips. - -It was some other, however, who hurried up—a stranger obviously, for a -bowler hat was silhouetted against the sky and gear of that kind was -never seen on the heads of the male fraternity of Mawm except on -Sundays. Although a glance was all she gave him when she perceived her -mistake there was something that seemed familiar in the man’s outline, -and for a second or two she puzzled over it and wondered why she was -followed; but though she went on her way more quickly she was not -afraid. - -“You walk fast, Miss Clegg!” The voice was low and carried a laugh in -its tones and Nancy started and stood still. - -“Who are you?” she inquired; but the revelation came to her as the -moonlight fell upon his face, and her heart beat more quickly than -exertion could account for; yet her subdued exclamation—“If it isn’t -Mr. Inman!” was coloured by annoyance rather than pleasure. - -“James Inman, at your service,” he replied, raising his hat with a -courtesy that was deliberately theatrical. “I believe I told you when -you doubted my word, that I should find ways and means to see you again; -and here I am.” - -Nancy tossed her head—a trick she had not needed to learn in the town, -and answered him sharply. - -“If you’ve followed me here because you think that I’m likely to take -any interest in you, Mr. Inman, the sooner you’re undeceived the better -for us both. And if it’s you that’s got a job at our shop let me tell -you straight that it goes against you, and I’ve only to let Mr. Briggs -know what you’re after for you to be sent about your business.” - -Inman laughed. “And what worse should I be then than I am now? I should -have had ten minutes with my heart’s delight, and that’s worth a month -of dreams. And why shouldn’t your guardian know that I’m after a wife? -Other men before me have hunted that quarry and not been burned at the -stake for it. If I hunt fair what harm is there in it? But perhaps you -think he’ll be vexed to find that Jagger Drake has a competitor.” - -Nancy’s cheeks grew red with anger, but even as hot words rose to her -tongue her judgment cooled them, and her thoughts ran on ahead and -reviewed the situation. Baldwin and Jagger were at enmity; and though a -word in the older man’s ear might start the fires of his wrath against -the newcomer, they were not likely to burn the more fiercely at the -knowledge that this young man was Jagger’s rival for her affections. The -effect might be quite opposite, for the large contempt in which Baldwin -held the Drakes, both father and son, might lead him to favour another -suitor. - -Nancy had remained standing and she held Inman by a haughty stare whilst -these thoughts crossed her mind at telegraphic speed. - -“You don’t leave your meaning to be guessed at, anyway,” she said in her -most freezing tones; “but a woman isn’t like a hare; she can choose who -she lets hunt her, and I don’t choose to be hunted by you. Those are -plain words, Mr. Inman, and I hope you appreciate them.” - -“I do,” he replied. “I’m a moorman and you’re a moorwoman. Moor-folk -don’t go by round-about ways when there’s a straight cut. I tell you as -I told you before that I love you and would make you my wife. ‘Not like -a hare!’ Of course you aren’t. I want no woman for a wife who’s like a -hare. An oily towns-man would have turned the tables on you and crooned -out that he was hunting a ‘dear’; but I don’t deal in soft nothings. -Maybe Jagger Drake does; I heard him this afternoon when he whined like -a whipped dog, and I took his measure. If you marry him you’ll have a -baby in your arms to start with——” - -“I’ve listened to you long enough,” Nancy broke in at this point with -increased hauteur. “Who’s been coupling my name with Jagger Drake’s I -don’t know, but it’s no concern of either theirs or yours; and as -there’s sure to be some eyes spying on us, and I’ve no wish to have my -character taken away, as it’s likely enough it will be if I stop talking -with a strange man, the first night he’s in the village, I’ll just wish -you good-bye; and if you take my advice you’ll set off back where you -came from to-morrow morning.” - -“One minute then,” he replied, as she turned away with a frown on her -face. “We mayn’t have another opportunity as good as this for -understanding one another. You call me a stranger, and you propose to -treat me as a stranger. So be it, I learn my lessons quickly, and I -shan’t worry you, you may rely on that. But I’ve buried my mother since -you saw me last, and I’ve a mind to get back to the moors. If I stop -with Mr. Briggs I can help to ginger up the business, though it’s plain -enough to see that he thinks himself God Almighty and wants no help. But -if he won’t have me, or if you think fit to put a spoke in the wheel, -I’ll just start for myself and maybe get our young friend Jagger to help -me. Soft as he is there are sure to be some old women who’ll fancy him -for their work, and I’ll bet between us we can make things hum. -Whichever way I go, your road’ll cross mine, Miss Nancy, and we’ll go on -arm in arm before the end; but it shall be of your own free will, I -promise you that!” - -She was staring him in the face with curling lip; but the effort to keep -back hot, indignant words and to hide their nearness from him almost -choked her; and all the time she was conscious of an icy feeling at her -heart. He was meeting her glance with a smile of quiet assurance; and -when she said—“We are just strangers, Mr. Inman. I shall not interfere -with Mr. Briggs’ business arrangements, so you may be easy on that -point. All I want is to be left alone!” he merely nodded, and raising -his hat, wished her good-night. - - - CHAPTER V - - IN WHICH JAGGER DRAKE SETS HIS TEETH - -LIKE an impatient housewife whose activities have been thwarted, and -who rises whilst others sleep to make onslaught on her foes with mop and -besom, the wind busied itself in the night with the work of sweeping -away the frosty mists which for a week past had been clinging to the -sides of the hills and stretching across the gullies like thin, silvered -cobwebs; and when the sun peeped over the shoulder of Cawden and sent -his heralds with streaming banners of pink and lances tipped with gold -to warn such few laggards as were still abed of his coming, the village -was looking as bright as a healthy babe fresh from its morning bath. -There was nothing babe-like, of course, about such a venerable place -except the river, which tumbled and tinkled along its course as if it -rejoiced in its liberty after being shut in underground so long, but -which, seen from the slopes a few hundred yards away, seemed as restful -as the grey hamlet itself. - -If you estimate the importance of a place by its size you would never -bestow a second glance at Mawm, even if the beam of bigness in your eye -permitted you to see it, for the hamlet is a mere mote among the -mountains; a speck of grey upon the moors. If you doze for twenty -seconds you may pass through it in your car and find when you rouse -yourself no hint of its existence; and you will have missed—what people -with beams in their eyes must often miss—a pleasing picture in shotted -green and grey that you might have carried away with you, and that would -have enriched your gallery of memories through all the years. - -Like a humble lodge at the entrance gate of the park which holds some -lordly dwelling-house, Mawm stands at the junction of three roads one of -which brings the traveller from the amenities of the railway, five miles -distant, whilst the others transport him at once to the heart of the -moors and the deep cold shadows of the Pennines. From those wild heights -the winter gales sweep down upon the hamlet, lashing it with whips of -ice and half burying it in snow, bracing and hardening men of Viking -blood, and sending to their rest beneath the graveyard sod at Kirkby -Mawm, lower down the valley, those of softer breed. In summer it is -still wind-swept; but the breezes are kindlier (though still rough and -sharp-toothed), and they load themselves with the fragrant spices of the -moors—the sweetness of heather and mountain berries and peaty-bog. And -at all seasons of the year the air is pure as purity itself. - -But Mawm is a guardian of other and rarer treasures than these. Beyond -the village, but only a few strides away, great inland cliffs that are -the wonder of all who see them rear their giant forms; and in the Cove -and Scar you will find rock scenery whose like few countries can produce -and which is unmatched in all Britain. With these gifts of air and earth -and earth’s convulsions for their heritage the men of Mawm are a strong -race and fortunate, though not all are conscious of their good fortune. - -Maniwel Drake (the greater number of his acquaintances did not know that -his name figured as Emmanuel in the parish register, and he himself had -almost forgotten it), was not to be numbered with these dullards. A man -of the moors, whose ancestors on both sides for generations back had -been moorland folk, the air of the uplands was to him the best of -tonics, sweeping over his soul no less than his body, and containing -what the old physiologists called “a hidden food of life.” No gale, -however wild, had ever been able to pierce the defences of his hardy -frame and undermine his constitution, and he had long ago shaken off the -ill-results of the accident which, by reason of the light regard in -which he had held it, had well-nigh cost him his life. With his one arm -he could do more work than many could accomplish with two; but until now -he had been content to lend a hand when and where it was needed, and his -earnings had been precarious, which would have mattered more, if his -wants had not been few. - -His whitewashed cottage neighboured with the little one-arched bridge -that spanned the stream, and its tiny panes gathered the greater part of -the sun’s rays, for they faced east and south, and as they looked down -the valley with no nearer obstruction than hills that were miles distant -the house was always so bright that a speck of dust had not the faintest -chance to escape Hannah’s observant eyes. It was because the house was -sunny and close to the laughter-loving stream that Maniwel had chosen -it. It harmonised with his nature. - -He was thinking of Jagger and the new scheme as he leaned against the -parapet of the bridge, with the sun’s rosy beams playing about his -uncovered head like an incipient halo—particularly of Jagger, and of -Jagger’s mother on whose vitals some slow cancerous disease had fixed -its wolfish teeth some months before the lad’s birth, tearing at her -strength and leaving her for the rest of her weary life querulous and -spiritless who up to then had known neither ache nor pain. It was -Jagger’s misfortune to have been born with a weight on his spirits which -it was as difficult to dislodge as the Old Man of the Sea from the -shoulders of Sindbad—it is not only the sins of parents that are -visited on the children: often it is their sorrows. Like Naaman the -Syrian, Jagger combined with many excellencies one outstanding -defect—he was a good workman, skilful, painstaking and conscientious, -and he was a creditable member of the community; but he was a grumbler. - -Maniwel’s eyes, travelling observantly about the green though his -thoughts were indoors, apprised him that a stranger had left the -“Packhorse,” and was walking towards the bridge, and his quick wit told -him that this was Jagger’s successor. Inman had no need to guess that -the tall figure on the bridge was the father of his despised rival, for -the landlord had pointed him out as they parted company at the door of -the inn; and if the path had not led in that direction, curiosity would -have taken him there. - -Each took the other’s measure as Inman approached; but whereas the -younger man flashed a hawk-like glance at Maniwel’s face and let that -suffice, Maniwel himself indulged in a scrutiny that took in every -detail of the newcomer’s dress, from the serviceable, thick-soled boots -to the incongruous bowler hat; yet so unmoved were the features, so -deliberate was the sweep of the eye that even a close observer might -have thought him indifferent. - -Inman raised his head and nodded and would have passed on but for the -inviting note in Maniwel’s greeting. - -“Promises well for a fine day, I’m thinking.” - -“I can do with it,” said Inman bluntly. “It’ll be seven miles, I -understand, to Scaleber, and I’ve got to do the double journey.” - -“Seven miles by t’ low road,” replied Maniwel; “and a trifle less by -that over t’ top.” - -“I came by the straight road last night,” Inman replied grimly, “and I’m -having no more of straight roads. I’ll give the low road a turn in -future.” - -They were looking into each other’s faces, and Inman was puzzled and -half irritated by the expression of shrewdness and serenity that he saw -on his side of the picture. Instinctively he recognised in the father a -man of different calibre from the son; a man whose gentleness could not -be mistaken for weakness; a man whose eyes and jaw told conflicting -stories of their owner’s character. The note of easy playfulness in -Maniwel’s voice vexed him because it placed him at a disadvantage. - -“I don’t know about t’ top road being straight. They’re both about as -straight as a dog’s hind leg if it comes to that. They’re same as lots -of us folk—they go straight when it’s easier then to go crook’d. But -there’ll be a grand breeze on t’ top this morning, and all t’ scents in -t’ moor’s bottle let loose into t’ bargain.” - -Inman stared at him and broke into a laugh. - -“I’m no judge of scents and hair-oil,” he replied. “I leave that sort o’ -thing for women and dandies. The low road’ll do for me.” - -He turned away and at that moment Hannah opened the house-door and -beckoned her father with an upward movement of the hand, whereupon he -went down and stood beside her in the angle of the bridge. - -“That’ll be him that’s got Jagger’s job,” she said, “and it reminds me -that t’ fat’s in t’ fire and no mistake”; but the wry smile about her -lips and the light that shone in her grey eyes seemed to contradict the -declaration. - -“Then there’ll be a bit o’ spluttering, likely,” said her father calmly. -“Whose fat is it?” - -Hannah made a significant motion towards the upper storey and lowered -her voice as she replied: - -“Nancy came in last night and Jagger told her what you had in your minds -about starting for yourselves. My word! It was hoity-toity in a minute. -She might have been sitting on t’ hot oven-plate by t’ way she got to -her feet. If Jagger weds her I fancy t’ hen’ll crow louder than t’ cock -in their farmyard.” - -Maniwel nodded, and looked down into his daughter’s face more soberly -than she had expected. - -“That ’ud be because she’s a sort o’ interest in t’ concern. I’d thought -about that, and reckoned on Jagger tumbling to it first thing; but when -he didn’t I said naught. There’s something in it from t’ lass’s point o’ -view. What did Jagger say?” - -“Say! He was as dumb as a dumpling till she’d taken herself to t’ door, -then he ran up and started twittering like a hedge-sparrow with a cuckoo -in its nest. But he might as well have saved his wind, for her ladyship -was standing on stilts, and she wasn’t for getting down when she took -herself home.” - -“I daresay,” commented Maniwel. “Then Jagger’ll have chucked t’ new -scheme up, I reckon? I half expected as much.” - -“I don’t know what he’ll have done by now,” she replied. “He shifts like -t’ hands of t’ clock till you can’t tell where he is. I’d be ashamed not -to have a mind o’ my own.” - -“Aye,” said her father grimly, “a man ’at can’t walk unless he’s tied -tight to someb’dy else, same as he was running a three-legged race, -isn’t likely to make much headway, and I doubt he’ll have to fit his -stride to Nancy’s if he weds her. However, she’s put him in t’ sieve and -we shall have to see what comes of it.” - -“He wasn’t for dropping t’ idea when he went to bed,” said Hannah as she -turned indoors where the newly-lighted fire was now roaring in the -grate; “and if he keeps t’ same look on his face he ought to do well in -t’ undertaking line—Baldwin wouldn’t have a cat’s chance; but we shall -have to wait and see what he says when he comes down to his breakfast.” - -The father sat down and spreading his legs on the hearth, gave himself -up to thought whilst Hannah laid the cloth and began to prepare the -meal. When she came and stood over the fire where the kettle was singing -cheerfully he looked up into her face. - -“Will she wed him, lass?” he asked. “If he swallows his pride and begs -on again——” - -“If he does aught o’ t’ sort I shall give him up for a bad job——” she -broke in hotly; but her father laid his left hand on her arm. - -“It’s either that or leaving t’ village if he’s to keep in with Nancy,” -he said. “She’s her father’s child, and Tom Clegg was a stiff-necked ’un -and could never see no way but his own. Not but what he had his good -points, and at his worst he was a lot better than Baldwin; but when he -set himself it ’ud ha’ taken powder to shift him. I don’t want to wrong -t’ lass, and maybe I don’t know her well enough; but it strikes me -she’ll turn awk’ard if Jagger crosses her, and there’s no telling what -lengths a lass like her’ll go to.” - -“Then let her go,” said Hannah impatiently. “She’ll be no great loss ’at -I can see, barring ’at she’s a tidy bit o’ money. Jagger says he reckons -naught o’ t’ money; but if you scrape t’ gilt off Nancy there’s very -little left, if you ask me. I could find him——” - -“I daresay you could,” her father interrupted again. “But Jagger’ll bait -his own hook, lass, and either land his fish or lose it. We’ll get back -to where we started from; if he begs on again, I doubt she’ll scorn him; -if he leaves t’ village——” - -The kettle boiled over at that moment and Maniwel rose and lifted it on -to the hob. When he sat down again Jagger was standing on the hearth. - -“Well, what if I leave t’ village?” he asked with a firmer note in his -voice than either his father or sister had expected to find there. “It’s -me you’re talking about, I suppose—me and Nancy? Beg on again I won’t, -so that’s flat; whether she scorns me or she doesn’t. Baldwin and me’s -parted company for good; but what if I leave t’ village?” - -He seated himself in grannie’s chair, leaning forward with his elbows on -his knees and looking with a steady gaze into his father’s eyes—eyes -that rested complacently upon the stalwart frame and supple hands and -that only became slightly shadowed when they settled on the face. -Jagger’s lips were closed firmly, and though the eyebrows narrowed into -a frown, there was scarcely a suggestion of sulkiness about the mouth, -and the whole expression appeared to indicate a fixity of purpose that -had been wanting the night before. - -“If you leave t’ village,” the father replied, “you leave her behind, -and what’ll happen then——” - -“But suppose I _don’t_ leave her behind?” he broke in. “Suppose I take -her with me? She’s sick to death of Keturah, and Baldwin nags at her -till she’s almost made up her mind to finish with ’em. She’s had a taste -of freedom while she’s been at her uncle’s, and is beginning to want a -home of her own—she’s as good as said so. I’ve naught but my two hands, -I know; but pay’s good in t’ towns and if she cared to help me to -furnish a little home to start with it ’ud be much if I couldn’t make -ends meet and tie. If only you two and grannie could bring yourselves to -go with us——” - -“Steady, lad!” the father interposed as Hannah threw back her head and -seemed about to speak. “You’re galloping a bit over fast, same as a colt -’at isn’t used to t’ shafts. You can leave us three out o’ your -calculations and think about yourself. Your grannie and me are same as -t’ ling—rooted i’ moorland soil—and we should make naught out in t’ -backyard of a town; and Hannah isn’t t’ sort to resin another woman’s -fiddle. Dost think Nancy’ll go wi’ you?” - -“I’m not saying she would,” he answered, without hesitation and with a -look that spoke more confidently than his tongue; “but she’s going to -have t’ chance. Letting her help to provide t’ home is a pill that bides -a bit of swallowing; but you can’t have it all ways; and I’d pay her -back when I get on to my feet——” - -“You’ve eaten dirt while you’ve got used to t’ taste,” Hannah broke in -excitedly. “Would I, if I were a man, beg any woman to make me a home! -I’d go single all my days first! I’ll lend you my petticoats, Jagger.” - -The hot blood rushed to the young man’s cheeks and he turned angry eyes -on his sister; but the father checked the torrent of words that began to -pour from his lips. - -“Sit you down, lad! Hannah’s as much at fault with _her_ false pride as -you are with yours. If a man and woman love each other so as to forsake -all others and live together till death parts ’em it’s a small matter -which o’ t’ two buys t’ furniture. It isn’t what’s bought wi’ brass ’at -makes a home, it’s what brass can’t buy. I aren’t sure but what Jagger’s -right, only I doubt he’ll make a mullock of it when he names it to -Nancy; and I wish I could be as sure as he seems to be ’at she’ll see it -in t’ same light. I wouldn’t do t’ lass a wrong; but her father set -brass first, and for aught I know she may do t’ same. Love is of God; -but t’ love o’ money isn’t; and you have it in t’ Book ’at you cannot -serve God and mammon. Now suppose by some odd chance she doesn’t fall in -wi’ t’ idea—what then?” - -“Then we put t’ sign-board up, same as we talked about,” said Jagger -stoutly. - -“You mean it?” - -“I mean it! If she doesn’t like it, I can’t help it. Go back to Baldwin, -I won’t, and there’s an end on’t.” - -Maniwel gazed at his son long and steadily and Jagger’s face put on a -look of stubbornness. - -“I mean it,” he repeated doggedly. “The day she says ‘No’ sees t’ new -firm started.” - -“Good lad!” said Hannah. “If Nancy has any sense she’ll rather have a -bull-dog on t’ rug than a pet poodle on her lap. But pull your chair up -to t’ table for t’ porridge is cooling on your plates, and a spoiled -breakfast oft means a spoiled day.” - - * * * * * - -The greater part of the tea-things had been cleared away when Jagger -entered the cottage in the evening. All day he had been on the watch for -Nancy, but it was late afternoon before he had found his opportunity. -His face was white and his eyes were troubled, but his voice was quite -firm when he spoke. - -“If you’ve naught to do, father,” he said, “we’ll look round for a shop. -There’s that barn of Haggas’s standing empty; I daresay we could rent it -for very little. I want no tea. What say you if we go down and see Ben?” - -“Then Nancy doesn’t favour t’ scheme?” inquired his father. - -“Nancy’s chucked both t’ scheme and me,” he replied gruffly. “She’d -scarce listen; and naught’ll do but I must go back to Baldwin and help -to work t’ business up to fill all their pockets. It’s of no consequence -’at mine’s empty.” - -His father regarded him for a minute in silence; but Hannah made light -of the quarrel, preaching patience, and the virtue of the cold-shoulder -treatment, to which Jagger gave no heed. - -“I was afraid you’d make a mullock of it, lad,” said his father at -length. “There’s edges on all women that you can’t get off with either -chisel or smoothing plane, and it’s a mistake to try sandpaper. You told -her a straight tale, I reckon?” - -“I told her all she’d listen to. I hid naught from her,” he replied. - -“Then pour him out his tea, Hannah,” said Maniwel. “A man can sup when -he can’t bite, and a drop o’ tea’ll very likely set t’ wheels going. -I’ll go down and see Ben; I’d thought of his place myself. You’ll be -best on t’ hearthstun for a bit till your face shortens.” - -“T’ street called Straight is about as full o’ troubles as Gordel’s full -o’ stones,” said Jagger with some bitterness when his father’s back was -turned. - -“T’ Book says ’at man’s born to trouble,” returned his sister, “and I -daresay you’d run up against it whichever road you travelled; but -there’s no need to wed it, and that’s what you will do if you marry -Nancy, as I’ve told you all along. She’ll want to be t’ top dog, Jagger, -and all t’ peace you’ll get’ll be when she’s having her own way.” - -“I thought you reckoned to be her friend,” growled Jagger. - -“So I am,” she replied, “and I’m yours too. That’s why I’m talking. What -Nancy wants is someb’dy ’at’ll master her and tame her temper, and that -isn’t you.” - -Jagger scowled. He had emptied the cup his sister had set before him; -but he refused to eat and after a while Hannah threw a shawl over her -head and left the house. Then grannie, whose eyes had been fixed on him -with dog-like sympathy and intentness, leaned forward and said: - -“Nancy’ll have more to bide than thee, lad. It’s been written in her -face ever since she was a little ’un ’at she’s marked for sorrow. She’s -like all t’ Cleggs—t’ black Cleggs, we used to call ’em ’cause of their -hair—proud and blind wi’ hot temper till they take t’ wrong turning in -their hurry. It was so wi’ her father. He’d been warned ’at t’ mare ’ud -throw him; but he knew better, and she set her foot on him when he was -under her belly, and it killed him i’ t’ long-run. Then there’s his -brother, John——” - -“Aye, there’s Nancy’s uncle,” prompted Jagger when the old woman -hesitated. He had been listening with a tolerance that was tinged with -contempt yet not free from curiosity, and he now repeated the inquiry as -grannie remained silent. “What ails Uncle John? He’s done well enough, -hasn’t he?” - -“I don’t trust him, lad!” She shook her head solemnly and turned her dim -eyes not to him but to the fire where she seemed to see portents that -were slow to clothe themselves in words. “It’s same wi’ t’ Cleggs as wi’ -t’ Drakes; there’s naught but mischief happens to them what leave t’ -moors. John was always under-hand; fair-looking as t’ bog, and -fair-spoken as a lass ’at wants a new gown; but shifty, lad, shifty. You -may beware of a Clegg ’at leaves t’ moor. There was his grandad——” - -“Uncle John’s got on all right, anyway,” said Jagger, who knew that if -the old lady once set out on the stream of reminiscence she would carry -him along with her to wearisome lengths. “He’s made money, and he’s done -us a good turn as well as Nancy and Baldwin; gives us double what we -should get from t’ bank.” - -“Maybe,” she replied. “I know naught about it; but it’s written in his -fam’ly’s fate ’at he’ll come to mischief i’ t’ long run if he leaves t’ -moor.” - -“Well, if he does it won’t bother us,” said Jagger with a yawn. “Nancy -settled that when she threw me overboard, and t’ bit we have with him’ll -be wanted now. All t’ same, grannie, I should like to swop places with -Uncle John.” - - - CHAPTER VI - - IN WHICH BALDWIN’S SCAFFOLDING GIVES WAY AND - ALSO HIS RESERVE - -“BREATHES there a man with soul so dead—?” You would have said that -even Baldwin’s dank soul must have fired as he left the Tarn road and -struck across the moor to Walker’s farm. Inman, who walked uncomfortably -beside him, accommodating his long strides to the other’s nervous steps, -felt the thrill of the morning in his veins if not in his soul and would -have liked to quicken the pace and enliven the solitude with a whistled -melody. As it was, the keen November wind was left to do the whistling, -with the long bent grass for its pipe, and it did it so tunefully that -Inman remarked upon it. - -“The bag-pipes are busy this morning,” he said. - -The pepper-coloured tufts on Mr. Briggs’ eyebrows almost touched, as he -turned uncomprehending eyes on his companion’s face, and the look was -easy of interpretation. Inman knew that his master thought him a fool -and was therefore prepared for the reply: - -“I suppose you know what you’re talking about; I don’t.” - -The tone was so cold that Inman thought it best to be silent. He -therefore shifted his bass to the other shoulder and made no further -attempt at conversation. Nine out of ten moormen are influenced more or -less consciously by the moor’s moods, and frequently reflect -them—Baldwin was the tenth man, impervious to such spiritual currents -by reason of his brass-bound soul as was horny-hided Siegfried to the -thrust of his enemies. They covered the remaining distance like mutes, -Baldwin with his eyes on the ground, and Inman sweeping the waste with a -careless glance until they reached the farm where new buildings awaited -their labour. - -Inman dropped his tools and looked critically at the scaffolding. - -“Did Drake fix them sticks?” he asked. “They aren’t safe.” - -Baldwin’s anger blazed out immediately. The structure had been erected -since Jagger left, and his own judgment told him that it was faulty. The -poles were thinnings of sycamore which had been lying about on the farm -and had seemed good enough for the purpose, though in reality they were -much too brittle. Inman’s quick eyes had detected evidences of this; but -Baldwin was not to be instructed by a stranger. It was for him to decide -whether the erection was safe or not, and he said so in language -overcharged with emphasis, bidding Inman doff his coat and get to work -without more ado. - -For a moment Inman hesitated, then without a word took off his coat, -rolled up his short sleeves and mounted the ladder. Before his master -could climb up and stand beside him he had tested the plank with his -foot and formed his conclusions, but what they were not even a movement -of his shoulders made known, and he picked up his tools and began to -work. - -For a while Baldwin did little more than watch him; and though he had -schooled himself in the art of concealing his satisfaction those who -knew him would have judged by the way he at length turned to his own -task that he was well pleased with the skill and industry of his new -hand. Inman needed no instruction and no prodding. Jagger Drake himself -was not more skilful and was incomparably slower. The master had to -acknowledge to himself that no man he had ever employed had framed so -well on such short acquaintance as this mysterious newcomer from -nowhere; and he experienced a sense of relief that he was careful not to -communicate by any relaxation of tone or feature to the man whose whole -attention seemed to be centred on his work. - -Inman guessed what was passing in the other’s mind; and though he -controlled his features as carefully as Baldwin himself, he was in -reality in a state of tension regarding the stability of the structure -on which they were standing; but all went well until the afternoon when -on a sudden heavy movement of the master the far pole gave way. - -Inman acted with the promptitude of a man who had formed his plans long -before. Baldwin had been unable to repress a sharp exclamation of alarm -as he felt the plank incline beneath his feet, and his fingers opened -involuntarily but found nothing to clutch and he must inevitably have -fallen to the ground if the collar of his coat had not been seized in a -strong grip. - -“I have you! Keep still!” Inman’s calm voice said; and Baldwin felt -himself being swayed towards the near pole which was still standing. -Inman’s strength was marvellous. He was grasping the newly-erected -water-duct with his left hand and resting his feet against the sloping -board. The dead weight of Baldwin’s body caused the sharp edge of the -woodwork to cut deep into the flesh but he was scarcely conscious of -pain as he swung his master towards the pole. - -“Get your legs round it,” he said. - -The noise of the fallen ladder and scaffolding had brought out the -inmates of the farm and Baldwin was helped to the ground, whereupon -Inman lowered himself down without assistance, and Baldwin caught sight -of the bleeding hand. - -“Best have that bathed and bandaged,” he said; and the women took him -indoors. - -Work for that day was finished, and the two men by and by walked back -together, Inman’s damaged hand hidden in the pocket of his coat. They -had gone some distance before Baldwin spoke, and the gruff words came -reluctantly as if pushed from behind by some more generous prompter. - -“It might ha’ been a nasty fall if you hadn’t grabbed my coat. I’ll say -one thing for you—you’ve nerve and strength.” - -Inman, who was thinking in his heart that he would as soon have wrung -the miserable old fellow’s neck, replied carelessly that he was glad -that he had saved him from accident and that it would be as well if he -was allowed to see to the scaffolding in future. - -This reminder brought a scowl on to the master’s face and a harder note -into his voice. - -“If Jagger’d ha’ been there—but Abe Thompson’s feet aren’t big enough -for Jagger’s shoes. It was him ’at said there was tackling enough on t’ -spot without sending any up. Did I read i’ yon papers o’ yours ’at -you’ve had a foreman’s job?” - -“I was foreman at Marshall’s for four years,” he replied. “When I left I -was under-manager.” - -“Then why the devil did you seek a job with me?” Baldwin burst out. -“There’s no under-managers wanted i’ my concern, and not likely to be. -I’m not one to pay men fancy wages for walking about wi’ their hands in -their pockets. I can manage my own business, young man.” - -“So I’ve observed,” Inman replied—and though there was not the -slightest inflection of sarcasm, Baldwin shot a suspicious and -half-angry glance at the man’s face. “I’m not seeking any other job but -what I’ve got.” - -“You’re seeking something, or you wouldn’t have signed on with a little -man like me,” growled Baldwin. “If I’m not one o’ your smart town folk I -don’t go about wi’ my eyes full o’ sawdust, and there’s something behind -all this ’at I should be better pleased if I knew of.” - -“Then I’ll tell you,” said Inman coolly. “It isn’t a thing I could -mention when I asked you to give me a job, but there’s no reason why I -should keep it secret from you now, Mr. Briggs. I met Miss Nancy when -she was staying with her uncle a week or two ago—I’ve known Mr. John -Clegg off and on since I was a lad—and I asked her to marry me. You’ll -very likely say I was over hasty; but I’m a man who knows his own mind, -and bad to shake off when I’ve set my heart on a thing. Now, you can put -two and two together.” - -Baldwin’s brain worked slowly, as has been said; but it was capable of -spurts of activity, and it had been speeding about whilst Inman was -making his confession, gathering together these strange occurrences and -the thoughts they gave rise to and putting them on the scales of his -judgment to determine whether or no the weight was to his advantage. -From force of habit as well as policy the scowl deepened on his brow as -he replied: - -“Putting two and two together isn’t all t’ sum. You’ve said naught about -how Nancy looks at it, and that may make a deal o’ difference.” - -“Miss Nancy was taken by surprise,” Inman answered. “She wasn’t used to -my blunt ways and—well, she gave me no encouragement.” - -“And though she gave you ‘No’ for an answer, you followed her here on t’ -off-chance ’at she’d change her mind, if she saw more of you?” - -“I usually get what I set my mind on,” Inman answered, so calmly that -Baldwin turned his eyes upon him in amazement at the note of assurance. -“She knows I shan’t plague her; if she becomes my wife it’ll be of her -own free will; and I’m willing to take my chance.” - -He smiled as he completed the sentence, and the look and tone of -assurance kindled Baldwin’s wrath. - -“I’ve a good mind to send you about your business,” he stormed, -peppering the declaration with the hottest words in his vocabulary. -“You’re the coolest devil I ever came across, and I’d as lief have old -Nick himself in the place. If Nancy has said ‘No’——” - -Inman laid his hand on the other’s arm and spoke more sternly though -even yet with studied restraint. - -“Listen, Mr. Briggs! If you sack me I shall find a job somewhere -about——” - -“It won’t be wi’ Drake’s, that’s certain,” broke in Baldwin hotly, -“Jagger’ll none be keen on finding a job for a rival; and who else is -there, nearer nor Scaleber?” - -“We needn’t discuss it, Mr. Briggs,” Inman replied. “I’m more likely to -want to put a spoke in Jagger Drake’s wheel than to help him to put one -in yours. You’ve seen enough to know that I can take Jagger’s place, and -you’ve nobody else that can; and seeing that I’ve promised not to molest -Miss Nancy what harm will there be in keeping me on?” - -The cunningly-designed argument left Baldwin without an answer, and the -milder tone in Inman’s voice served to modify him. After all, as he said -to himself, Nancy was her own mistress and had for some time past shown -an independence of spirit that had been anything but welcome. Now that -Jagger had set up in opposition there was no reason why he should lose -the services of the one man who could help to checkmate the Drakes’ -move—indeed self-interest pointed in the opposite direction. He -therefore said: - -“When a man’s been Nancy’s guardian it’s naught but right he should -think of her interests. But what you say seems right enough, and I’ll -take to it ’at I could like to scotch this new scheme o’ Maniwel’s. It’s -true ’at I haven’t a man i’ t’ shop, bar, happen you, ’at can take -Jagger’s place; and you’re a man with a head on. I must think it over; -or else I had been going to say ’at I’d make you foreman.” - -“That’s as you think fit,” replied Inman. “I shouldn’t care, of course, -to take my orders from anyone but you; but you must please yourself. As, -for these Drakes—two heads are better than one and naught ’ud give me -more pleasure than to scheme against ’em.” - -Baldwin concentrated his thoughts on the subject, and Inman knew better -than to attempt to pursue his advantage. At length the master spoke: - -“I see naught gained by sleeping on it. It’s all one to me who Nancy -marries and I’m not likely to be consulted; but it ’ud go again’ t’ -grain to have her marry Jagger. That being so there’s no reason why I -should put my finger in your pie, to say naught about my owing you -something for this morning’s do. T’ foreman’s job’s waiting, and you can -have it if you’ve a mind.” - -A smile crossed Inman’s lips; but Baldwin did not see it, and he was -gratified by the thanks the young man offered and even more by the brisk -inquiry that followed: - -“And now, Mr. Briggs, let us turn to these Drakes. Running ’em to earth -is a sport just to my liking. I suppose they’ve no money?” - -“Maniwel’ll have a bit wi’ John Clegg,” replied Baldwin, “unless he’s -had to draw it out, which I hardly think he will ha’ done. There’ll be a -toathri hundred pound there, I fancy.” - -“But why with John Clegg?” inquired Inman, bending puzzled brows upon -his master. - -“Well, you see,”—now that Inman was fellow-conspirator, Mr. Briggs was -willing to indulge him with an explanation—“Tom Clegg, who had t’ -business before me, always banked with his brother John, and it was -through him that Maniwel and me got a chance to put our bits o’ savings -in with him. John could find use for brass in his business, and pay five -per cent., which was a deal better than t’other banks ’ud do. So I’ve -always banked with him, same as Tom did; and I feel sure Maniwel’ll have -a bit lying there.” - -Inman became thoughtful, and beyond saying “I see,” made no remark for -some minutes. He was wondering how he could ascertain if Nancy’s money -was also in her uncle’s keeping without arousing suspicion of his -motives when Baldwin answered the unspoken question. - -“It’s a funny thing ’at t’ only one ’at doesn’t fairly trust John is his -own niece. Nancy doesn’t believe in having all her eggs in one basket, -and them ’at’s been laid since her father died she banks i’ Keepton, -where she just gets half t’ interest her uncle ’ud pay her. But women -haven’t much business about ’em and it’s her own look-out and not mine.” - -“That’s so,” Inman agreed absently. He was relieved to find that Nancy -had so much sense, and was undecided what course his own interests -should lead him to pursue in continuing the conversation. - -“Can Drake get the money at short notice?” he asked. - -“Nay, he’ll have to give him six months. Of course, I’ve a different -arrangement, and he sends me bankers’ drafts to pay my accounts with; -but even I couldn’t draw t’ lump out under six months, so it’s certain -Maniwel can’t.” - -Again Inman was silent for a space, thinking hard. - -“I don’t know but what Miss Nancy’s right,” he said with unusual -hesitation. “John Clegg isn’t a banker, though he calls himself -one—he’s a moneylender.” He looked inquiringly into Baldwin’s face but -saw no look of concern or suspicion there; and the voice was indifferent -enough that replied: - -“I caren’t what he is. He went off o’ t’ moor and made his way i’ t’ -town. Tom put his trust in him, and for twenty years he’s never let us -down. He calls himself a banker, and he pays five per cent. on wer -brass, and that’s good enough for me. Whether Maniwel knows he’s i’ t’ -Jew line or no, I can’t say; but his brass is as safe as houses.” - -A comment rose to Inman’s lips but he checked it there, and remained -silent so long that Baldwin looked up suspiciously. - -“You seem to have something up your sleeve,” he said. He had surrounded -himself so long with an atmosphere of distrust that he was as sensitive -to the moods of those about him as a spider to the vibrations of its -web. - -“I was wondering if there was any way of keeping the Drakes’ money -back,” he replied readily, but in a thoughtful tone. “Lack of capital’ll -hamper ’em, you see. I’ve only seen this Maniwel’s face once, but I -guess he’s not the man to plunge much. I mean he’s not likely to get far -into debt.” - -“He’s t’ last i’ t’ world,” admitted Baldwin, appeased at once by this -evidence of his companion’s discrimination. - -“I don’t see at this minute how it’s to be managed,” continued Inman, -“but it’ll come to me. There’s always ways and means for those who’re -prompt to handle ’em. All we’ve got to do is to bide our time, and as -you say, keep the sawdust out of our eyes.” - -They had reached the shop by this time and the subject was necessarily -dropped; but Inman remained thoughtful during the remainder of the day, -and paid no attention to the rough handling the other man received, and -especially the incompetent Abe, at the hands of the master. - - - CHAPTER VII - - IN WHICH NANCY SPEAKS HER MIND - -ALTHOUGH Keturah had been up and busy for the better part of two -hours, and Nancy was in the habit of rising at the same time and taking -a subordinate share in such household duties as the older woman’s -methodical housewifery allocated to the period before breakfast, the -girl still lay in bed with her eyes wide open and her arms behind her -head, and listened unmoved to the clatter downstairs, the increasing -volume of which told her quite plainly that mistress Keturah was in a -bad temper. The result of the ebullition she could have foretold with -accuracy; and she smiled as it occurred to her that in similar -circumstances, if she had been living in a city like Airlee, she could -have found a café within a hundred yards of her home which would have -spared her the trouble of preparing a meal for herself. That everything -would be cleared away, and the kettle cold upon its iron stand when she -should presently appear in the kitchen was as certain as the tides. - -The thought amused her, but set no machinery in motion save that of the -brain which, indeed had been running for some time. For a few minutes -Nancy let her mind contrast the conditions of town and country life. At -her uncle’s a maid had brought her an early cup of tea at an hour when -in Mawm the breakfast things had all been washed up and put away; and -had drawn back the curtains, perhaps in order that the sight of bricks -and chimney-pots through a smoke-laden atmosphere might beget a desire -to rise and escape. To Nancy that “early” cup was just softness and a -nuisance, not to be compared with the breezes that blew straight from -the moors upon her bed, through the window which was never closed except -when northerly gales drove rain before them. - -From the maid Nancy turned her thoughts to the master, and admitted to -herself, not for the first time, that she would have liked Uncle John -better if he had held up his head and looked at people like a man, -instead of glancing at them sideways with the look of a dog that has -been in mischief and is afraid somebody knows. His own daughter, her -cousin Ellen, said he was a “screw”; but Nancy saw no signs of that -characteristic in the home; and he had always seemed fond of her and -treated her as generously as could be expected of a man of his type. -Still there was something—and because of that indefinable something -Nancy banked her profits in Keepton, and allowed her uncle—who was too -deeply absorbed in his own affairs to trouble himself about hers—to -think she was as extravagant as her cousin. Aunt Eleanor, on the other -hand, was a downright nice woman, with only one fault worth speaking of, -and which she had transmitted to her daughter—that she looked upon -country places as “holes,” and upon Mawm as the least endurable of them -all. Aunt and cousin were towns-women through and through, and the -latter had certain superficialities of education that Nancy lacked and -despised; but though they had money, “society” closed its doors to them, -and their friends were all of the lower middle classes from which both -parents had sprung and to which by every right save that of money they -still belonged. That was how she had made the acquaintance of Inman, -with whose mother Uncle John had lodged when he began business for -himself, and whom the so-called “banker” held in high esteem as a young -fellow who knew how to use his elbows in “pushing along.” - -She was stopping in bed to think about Inman and to try to determine -what her relations with him in these new circumstances were to be; where -too she must place him in her scale of values. Apart from his rough -wooing and the complacency with which he took its rejection she had -nothing against the man; there was, indeed, something in his sturdy -independence and almost impudent conceit that appealed to her -moorwoman’s spirit; though her lips curled scornfully as she recalled -the air of calm certainty with which on two occasions—once in Airlee -and again on the night of his arrival in the village—he had received -her cold refusal. It was evident enough that he thought he had only to -wait, and the bird would be found in the snare. Would it! The curl on -the girl’s lips straightened into a thin line of defiance at the mental -suggestion. It would have paid the man, she said to herself, to be a -little less cocksure, and a little more humble; to have given the leaven -time to work instead of wanting to bake his cake and eat it within five -minutes. Then, perhaps— - -That was a greater concession than she had made before; and it startled -her to discover how far and how quickly she had advanced since her last -interview with Jagger. Jagger was in disgrace. He had developed a quite -unaccountable stubbornness that she was determined to punish, and she -quite forgot in her vexation how often she had called him a “lad in -leading-strings,” and bidden him shake a loose leg. Nancy’s objection to -leading-strings did not extend to those she held in her own hands. - -And yet, if Jagger was a rebel, Inman was a despot whose whole bearing -showed that he would break his neck sooner than bend it to any woman’s -yoke; why then did she turn her thoughts to him with a more favourable -inclination? Is it that after all, woman likes to be mastered, and is -flattered by the attentions of a masterful man who promises her nothing -but his name, and who, when he has fulfilled that promise will expect -her to be content with such poor crumbs of attention as he can spare -from his dogs? Or is it that her almost unconquerable spirit matches -itself against man’s obstinacy and believes it can make it yield? - -Although Nancy told herself with suspicious reiteration that Inman was -obnoxious to her it was in reality an evil hour for Jagger’s prospects -of early marriage when Nancy set the two men side by side and took their -measures. On the physical side there was not much to choose. Jagger was -as fine an animal as Inman; more agile if less weighty—“the spotted -panther and the tusked boar” might figure them. Intellectually, the -balance swayed heavily on Inman’s side, for Jagger had none of his -father’s alertness and would have made a poor show in a duel of words -with the towns-man. Inman’s mind was quick and had been well sharpened -in debate; John Clegg had intimated that his name was known in certain -political circles in Yorkshire as that of a man who might have to be -reckoned with by and by when he had made money enough to be listened to -with respect. As to the other branch of the spiritual; the branch that -deals with morals and the soul; Nancy left that out of account -altogether as people mostly do, forgetting that the kernel is of more -importance than the shell. - -Only once did the scale swing over to Jagger’s side and that was when -Nancy weighted it with considerations that she did not recognise as -spiritual when she put into it Jagger’s love for the moors, and, all -that the moors stood for—for freedom and wild beauty and the joy of -life; and his love for herself, which was of the same order; deep and -unchangeable. She was so accustomed to all this that she perhaps failed -to notice how heavily the scale banged. - -At length she rose and dressed, spending more time than usual over her -toilet because her thoughts refused to clothe themselves satisfactorily; -and she was in an unsettled frame of mind when she went downstairs. - -Keturah was kneading bread, and much more vigorously than the process -required, when Nancy entered the kitchen. One sullen glance of inquiry -she flung over her shoulders, and seeing neither illness nor penitence -in the girl’s expression tightened her lips. - -She was an elderly sharp-featured woman, rather tall and spare, with -hair that had grown thin and scanty and was twisted into a bunch not -much bigger than a walnut at the back of her head. It was -pepper-coloured, like her brother’s, but of a warmer tint, as if damp -had got to it, which was not improbable seeing that the reservoir that -supplied the tears which self-pity always called forth must have been -very near to her eyes. They were dry enough now because vexation was -choking the ducts. - -“I’d forgotten it was baking-day,” said Nancy, as she lifted the lid of -the kettle and peeped inside, “but I had a bad night and wasn’t rested.” - -Silence greeted the explanation, and Nancy said no more but proceeded to -prepare her breakfast. - -“Where’s the butter?” she asked, as she returned from the larder with a -half loaf and the empty dish in her hand. - -“_I_ can’t help it if it’s finished,” Keturah snapped. “One pair o’ -hands can’t get a man his breakfast, and put him up his dinner, and be -off down t’ road for butter and get bread into t’ bowl so as it can be -rising all in a minute. You should ha’ seen we were short o’ butter last -night, i’stead o’ bending over fancy work, same as you’d naught to do -but ring t’ bell and there’d be a toathri servant lassies to come and -put you a cob on t’ fire. You mud well have a poor night, and naught but -right too, making a slavey of one ’at’s nearhand old enough to be your -gran’mother, and then expecting me to be running errands like a -six-year-old, while you lie i’ bed and rest yourself.” - -What had begun as a snap ended as a wail; but Nancy was unmoved. - -“Well, you’ve salted the bread already I suppose,” she returned coolly; -“and you’ll not improve the dough by crying over it. Dry toast’ll do for -me nicely, for there’s a bit of dripping with the ham, I see, and I’d as -soon have it cold as not.” - -“I’ll warrant you!” said Keturah, with a note of disappointment added to -that of vexation. “If there’s a bit o’ something tasty hidden away -you’ll nose it out like a dog with a bone. I’d meant that mouthful o’ -ham for my own supper, for it’s little enough support I get ’at has all -t’ weight o’ t’ house on my shoulders. But it’s t’ way o’ t’ world; them -’at work their fingers to t’ bone for fine ladies must be content to -lick t’ dish out for their share o’ t’ pudding.” - -“It’s the rule of the house, isn’t it?” replied Nancy indifferently. -“‘Catch as catch can.’ You should bury your bones deeper, Keturah, if -you don’t want ’em to be found.” - -The woman flashed into temper; but her spirit was too moist to fire and -the spark ended in a sizzle. - -“You’ve been that aggravating, Nancy, since you came back from your -uncle’s I could find it i’ my heart to box your ears. But well you know -I’m past it, and I was always too soft wi’ you when you were a child. -Many and many’s the time I’ve screened and petted you, when a good -hiding ’ud ha’ been a better kindness, and I’m rightly served for acting -silly. I might ha’ known that there is them that bites the hand that -strokes ’em.” - -The pathos in the metaphor opened the water-gates and made it necessary -for Keturah to pass the rolled-up sleeve of her blouse across her eyes; -but Nancy was not melted by the exhibition; on the contrary, her tone -was distinctly cold and superior. - -“You’re forgetting yourself, Keturah, and I’ll thank you not to talk -about boxing my ears as if I was a child. I’m my own mistress and I -intend to be, and if you don’t like it, you’ve only to say so, and I’ll -find other quarters where my money’ll perhaps be more acceptable, and -there’ll be less spite and malice dished up instead of breakfast.” - -With these words, the water having boiled by this time, Nancy seated -herself at the table in the window and began to eat, turning her back -upon Keturah, who sighed heavily as she set the baking bowl on a stool -in front of the fire. The tears hung in her eyes, however, for whatever -her faults, Keturah was admittedly economical, and there was no sense in -allowing tears to run to waste, especially as Nancy would be sure to -assume that they were flowing. - -The atmosphere remained heavy and humid throughout the day, though Nancy -caught up with her work (which was never very exacting) long before -noon, and might have been considered to have atoned for her morning -lapse. On her way home with the butter towards tea-time she caught sight -of Baldwin and Maniwel standing together in the street, and guessed from -their manner that relations were strained. After a while Baldwin entered -the kitchen and having hung his hat on the peg, kicked a small stool -which had the temerity to stand in his way into a corner, and seated -himself at the table with a scowl on his face that was as threatening as -a thundercloud. - -“So you’ve managed to get down, have you?” he growled, as he turned his -weasel eyes on Nancy who was buttering bread. - -“I’ve been down an hour or two,” she replied with studied indifference; -“just long enough to get the dust out of my eyes.” - -“It was nigh on ten before she landed,” Keturah explained, exaggerating -the hour by something like forty minutes. “What we’re coming to I -dursn’t think, but it’s plain to see who’s missus and who’s maid——” - -Nancy dropped the knife and faced them both with flashing eyes. - -“If it’s the maid you expect me to be then I hand in my notice,” she -said scornfully. “As to being missus, it isn’t of _this_ house I’d want -the job, anyway. I’m neither missus nor maid I’d have you to know, but a -lodger; and a lodger who pays well, as you don’t need to be told; and I -don’t know that lodgers have to be at the beck and call of them they -pay. You’ve only to say another word and I’ll leave to-morrow—they’d be -glad enough to have me at Uncle John’s. I’m sick to death of your -snappiness and bad temper, and you may as well know it.” - -Keturah had lifted her apron to her eyes, cowed by this display of hot -resolution which was much fiercer than anything that had preceded it; -and Baldwin pushed back his chair and stamped his foot. - -“Have done, will you!” he shouted. “Do you think I care if you take -yourself to blazes this minute, and your brass with you? Am I fast, -think you, for t’ few shillings a week you seem to think keeps t’ house -going——?” - -“Of course you’re not,” Nancy broke in with a cold disdain that lashed -like a whip, “but you make a profit on them, and you’d sooner lose a -tooth than lose money. You’ve stung me into saying this. I’ve held -myself in till I’ve nearly choked, but I’ve stood your sneers and nasty -talk as long as I’m going to. You quarrel with a man like Maniwel, and -because you can’t get the best of him you come home and try to take it -out of me. I’m not having any more—Good Heavens! Why should I? Here! -you can butter the bread for yourself!” - -She pushed the loaf towards the angry man and crossed over to the rug, -where she leaned her head against the mantelpiece, and Baldwin’s anger -bubbled up so furiously that at first he could only splutter out a -succession of oaths. Then he said: - -“But what can you expect?”—he was apparently directing the inquiry to -Keturah, but his eyes were on Nancy’s averted head. “She’s like to side -wi’ Maniwel, seeing ’at he’s Jagger’s father! Aye, even though he’s -taking bite and sup out of her mouth. Isn’t her interests and mine t’ -same? What ’ud John Clegg think to a man ’at reckons he’s fain to wed a -lass, and at t’ same time sets up to rob her of her business...?” - -“What would he think of a master who sacked his best man rather than pay -him a fair wage?” she asked, wheeling round and speaking hotly. “Who was -it forced him to begin for himself? You wind the clock up and then blame -it for going!” - -“If I sacked my best man I found a better,” he answered, somewhat -discomfited by the logic of the attack. “Inman’s worth six of Jagger.” - -“Then what are you grumbling about?” she replied still fiercely. “What -harm can Jagger do you with a non-such like Inman to help you? But -whether he hurts you or he doesn’t I’m not going to be the ash-heap -where you throw all your nasty tempers, and you may as well make your -mind up to it.” - -“But you can’t deny, Nancy, ’at you’ve been same as a dog with a sore -tail ever since Jagger left,” pleaded Keturah whose idea of storms fell -short of whirlwinds, and who, like many another nagging woman was a -coward at heart. “I’m sure there’s been no living with you, you’ve been -that contrairy.” - -“Then we’d better part,” rejoined Nancy, “and that’ll maybe suit us -all.” - -Hereupon Baldwin growled a suggestion that instead of clacking like a -couple of condemned hens it would be advisable to get on with the tea. -Although his brain worked slowly it worked accurately along a certain -brass-lined groove, and he had already repented of his attack on Nancy, -with whom it was not policy to quarrel beyond remedy. The girl, however, -was not so easily appeased. - -“I can have mine when you’ve finished,” she said, “then foul looks won’t -turn the milk sour.” - -“And that’ll be making work,” protested Keturah, “or anyway it’ll be -spreading it out. Draw your chair up and take no notice of Baldwin. You -ought to know by this time ’at he’s either to uncork his-self or burst, -same as other men.” - -“I’m going to uncork _my_self,” said Nancy with a fierceness that -surprised herself and which was the outcome of her own disturbed mind. -“Father might have guessed if he’d looked at your faces what a life -you’d lead me between you, and what a life you would have led me if it -hadn’t been for my money-bags. But you knew how to use the oil-can when -he was alive, and he’d too much to bear to think things out for himself -or he’d have put Maniwel in your place. Oh, yes he would——” she -continued, as Baldwin’s face grew red and his hands tightened on the -arms of his chair—“I’ve thought it many a thousand times same as all t’ -rest o’ t’ village, and I may as well let it come out. You have to -uncork yourself, have you, or else burst? Well, you can see how you like -other folk to uncork _them_selves!” - -Keturah was standing horrified, but sundry soliloquies such as “Eh, -dear, dear!” “Now, hark to t’ lass!” “If this doesn’t beat all!” showed -that her breath had not been altogether lost, whereas anger had -momentarily paralysed Baldwin’s tongue. When he recovered himself he -rose, and seizing Nancy roughly by the shoulder pushed her towards the -door. - -“Outside wi’ you!” he shouted, and the oaths he poured out called forth -a protest even from his sister whose “Nay, for shame, Baldwin!” fell on -deaf ears. “Way wi’ you to Maniwel, you ungrateful——” But why continue -to string together the coarse language that made Keturah hold her apron -to her ears and caused Nancy to wrench herself free and wheel round upon -him with a face that was white but strangely composed. - -“That’ll do, Baldwin Briggs,” she said. “This house is mine, not yours, -and if anyone goes it’ll not be me. You’d perhaps forgotten that, same -as I had. You’ve had the use of it so long that you’d come to think it -was yours. I said I was your lodger, but it’s _you_ who’re lodgers, and -I’ll leave when it suits me. You’d best get your teas, if you can eat -any. I want none. Maybe we shall all have cooled by morning.” - -With these words she crossed the room and went upstairs; and Baldwin and -Keturah looked at each other, and finding nothing to say turned to the -table and made a sorry meal. - - - CHAPTER VIII - - IN WHICH NANCY QUESTIONS HER HEART AND - MANIWEL QUESTIONS HIS SON - -ALAS! for Nancy. Heroics, she discovered, were all very well in their -way, but they were only the husks of satisfaction, containing -nourishment for neither body nor soul, and leaving behind them a bitter -task and the beginnings of a headache. And though to retire to one’s -room some five hours before the usual time might be a picturesque way of -registering a protest it was one that reacted awkwardly on the -protestor, obliging her to fast when hungry, and (for lack of a candle) -to company with darkness; the only alternative being to swallow her -pride and return for supplies. Rather than eat so nauseous a dish of -humble pie Nancy preferred to treat herself as a prisoner, and she flung -up the window and let the cold night air blow upon her hot cheeks as she -sat there, resting her elbows on the sill. - -The breath of the uplands is tonic at all times; but on the wild moors -of Mawm when winter grips the Pennines and forges its weapons of offence -on the rocky heights, the tonic is that of iron and steel, a tonic that -spurs and goads. “According to its quality and temperature air hath an -effect on manners,” the old physiologists affirmed, “and that of -mountains is a potent predisposer to rebellion.” We have let the theory -die; but these forefathers of our scientists were no fools, and we find -the proof of their hypothesis in the high places of the land, where -rebels are bred and flourish. Nancy may have cooled as she sat there, -watching the stars light their lamps in the black sky; but the cooling -was that of iron that has been bent to a purpose and is no longer -malleable. - -For half an hour she never changed her position, and was unconscious -that her elbows were sore from the pressure of her weight upon the -window-frame; but even when she saw that a splinter had pierced the -flesh and drawn blood she scarcely moved, being too busy with her -thoughts to concern herself with trifles. - -The house and the shop to which it was attached, were hers, though -Baldwin rented them, and the sum was included in the payment she -received once a year; if she were married she would live there and -Baldwin might find other quarters. If she were married a great many -problems would solve themselves automatically, therefore, obviously, the -one thing to do was to marry. - -It was significant that in this crisis Inman was banished from her mind -and Jagger occupied all her thoughts. If her head busied itself with -speculations now and then, her heart told her that it was Jagger whom -she loved, and Jagger had only been waiting until his prospects were -brighter and his savings more considerable. He would see the matter from -her point of view, and if he was a little stupid at first she would -easily talk him round. Nancy, it will be seen, like most women who have -experimented in love, was not disposed to under-estimate her powers; and -her plan of campaign took no account of opposition. In drafting it she -forgot hunger and headache and became mildly exhilarated. Jagger and she -would marry as soon as possible, and Baldwin would be made to understand -that in his own interests something in the nature of a partnership with -her husband would have to be arranged. Baldwin would be awkward but no -more awkward than she; and there was always Uncle John in the -background—a reserve force that she did not doubt could be used on her -side in an emergency. - -It all looked very simple and easy of execution as she ran a mental eye -over it when completed—all light and no shade, like an architect’s -ground-plan; and she put it aside and began upon the details with the -satisfaction of a resolute woman who has no doubt of her ability to get -her own way. - -The first thing was to see Jagger and unfold the scheme, but she could -scarcely go down to the cottage and spread it out in the presence of -Maniwel and Hannah. No girl, however unconventional and business-like -would propose marriage to the most willing of lovers in the presence of -witnesses. She would contrive a meeting on the morrow, and make her -peace with Jagger, admitting that she had been too precipitate, and -wheedling him into a similar admission, after which she would have a -straight talk with Baldwin and lay down her terms. - -A noise in the workshop, which was on the same level as her room and -divided from it only by a thick wall, ceased at this moment and the -cessation of sound made her conscious for the first time that it had -existed. She knew that Inman was leaving work, for nobody but Baldwin -and he put in any overtime, and it brought a smile to her face to -realise how completely she had forgotten him. A moment later she heard -his voice in the street below. - -“Going home, are you? It’s a lonely road in the dark. I’ll step along -with you, part way.” - -“Lord! I aren’t afraid o’ the dark, Mr. Inman,” a voice that Nancy -recognised as belonging to Swithin’s granddaughter replied with a -giggle. - -“What if bargest snaps at you, Polly?” he suggested. “There’s no moon, -and he may be on the moor.” - -“How you talk!” she replied, but the voice was fainter, and Nancy knew -they were walking away together; and she turned with a smile on her lips -and began to undress. - -“All the better!” she muttered. “James Inman doesn’t come into the -play.” - -When she got into bed she was quite composed, even though the painful -throbbing of her head for some time drove sleep away. She was very much -in love with herself and her scheme, and physical discomfort counted for -little. When at length she lost consciousness, though the wind rose and -blew through the open window with such force as to disorder the room, -she slept soundly until morning. - -Meantime in the cottage by the stream, Maniwel and Jagger had also been -busy with their plans. The father’s description of his encounter with -Baldwin had roused the son’s wrath. - -“He’s a low lot,” he said savagely; “a dirty, under-handed cad ’at’s -doing all he can to block t’ road for us. It takes me all my time to -keep my fingers off him; and yon Inman’s just such another, if he isn’t -t’ worst o’ t’ two.” - -“Let ’em be, lad,” said his father calmly, “Baldwin snarls and snaps; -but his tantrums go over me same as a dull plane on a greasy board. But -it’s different wi’ you and Nancy, and I’m afraid there’s a gap there -that’ll bide a bit o’ bridging. By what Baldwin let slip she’s badly -huffed wi’ you and me over our new shop; and a lass like Nancy’ll suck a -humbug o’ that sort a long time before she swallows it.” - -“All t’ better for her,” said Hannah as her brother’s face became moody; -“it’ll save it from sticking in her throat. You just sit tight, Jagger, -and let her go on sucking. T’ longer she sucks t’ smaller it’ll get, and -t’ more used she’ll get to t’ taste.” - -“You hold your noise, Hannah,” her father interposed good humouredly. -“I’d as soon trust t’ ferret to settle what’s best for t’ rabbit as one -lass for another. I’m thinking you were a bit too blunt wi’ Nancy, lad, -when she came in that night.” - -“I told her straight, if that’s what you mean,” replied Jagger promptly. -“I thought t’ straight road was what you favoured.” - -“So it is,” returned his father caustically, “but t’ straight road isn’t -always t’ shortest, and when you’re dealing wi’ a lass like Nancy, ’at’s -got a will of her own and is as bad to move as Balaam’s donkey when she -sets herself, t’ longest way round might be t’ shortest way home. Eh, -lad! I could like to do your courting for you for an odd hour or so.” - -Jagger smiled. “She’ll come round, you’ll see. I know what she has to -stand from Baldwin,—aye, and Keturah, too. They’ll put kindling under -her till she boils over, now ’at she scarcely puts her nose out o’ -doors; mark my words, if they don’t.” - -“What about Christmas?” inquired Hannah. “If she misses coming to tea -it’ll be t’ first time since her father died. It wants short o’ three -weeks, so you’ve got to look handy if you bring her round.” - -“Now, what say you, lad?” continued his father; and though the tone was -whimsical it was also half serious. “Am I to do a bit o’ courting for -you? All Nancy wants is t’ smooth plane on her and I fancy I could -manage it.” - -“I’d like to see my lad’s father come a-courting me,” said Hannah. “I’d -take t’ yard brush to t’ pair of ’em——” - -“Shut up, Hannah!” said Jagger impatiently, as he turned his eyes on his -father. “What would you say to Nancy if it was you?” - -“It isn’t what I’d say, but t’ way I’d say it. T’ same helm ’at sends t’ -ship on to t’ rocks ’ud steer it into deep water. But I’m only plaguing -you, lad. Hannah’s right enough; you’ll have to fend for yourself.” - -“If she talks till she’s black in t’ face,” said Jagger sullenly, -“she’ll not get me to give t’ shop up and go back to Baldwin.” - -“Well, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to tell her so,” returned his father, -“or she’ll happen think t’ new hobby-horse has put you out o’ love wi’ -t’ old doll.” - -Grannie had been silent all this time but now her voice broke in: - - “A Clegg lass, - And a wedding for brass! - A Clegg wife, - And it’s sorrow or strife!” - -“That’s a true word, Maniwel, and always has been, though it’s few -lassies the Cleggs have bred; and they may thank the Lord for that, -seeing as how the few they’ve had supped sorrow by t’ canful. You’ll not -rec’llect Nancy’s aunt—nay it ’ud be her great-aunt....” - -“No, but I know t’ tale, mother, and it’s time it was coffined. If -there’s a spell on t’ Clegg lassies I could like Nancy to break it, and -Jagger’s more sense than to be frightened out of his wits wi’ jingles. -But we’ll put ’em all on one side, and just read a chapter out o’ t’ -Book for a bit of a lightening, before we go to bed. When it comes to -troubles there’s them in t’ Book could give us all a long start and -catch up with us quick. Jagger ’ud stare if he’d Job’s troubles to hug.” - -The Book was put away and grannie left them, but the father sat on long -past his usual hour, and by and by Hannah yawned and rose up to turn the -key in the lock of the outer door. - -“Quakers’ meetings turn me sleepy,” she said; and wished them -good-night. - -Not until stillness overhead told him that Hannah was in bed did Maniwel -speak. A man of sound sense and judgment, prompt to decide which road to -take when two ways met, and impatient of “softness,” like most moorland -folk, he was himself more emotional than any of his neighbours. The -trait had been present, though not so strongly marked, before the death -of his wife, and had developed with the added responsibility her loss -brought him; but it was really due to the mellowing influences of his -religion—a religion he owed to an unschooled old shepherd who had spent -a few months on the lonely farm where Maniwel’s parents had been -employed. His only debt to the man was for the seed he had dropped as he -had gone about his work. There had been no set preparation of the -ground, no tilling or forcing, and the crop that was eventually produced -would probably have been regarded by the sower as full of tares, for -Maniwel’s creed was his own, and not something that had been -standardised, like a plumber’s fittings. He had found it in the Gospels -and without reducing it to a formula had fashioned his life on it, to -the dismay of his father and the distrust of his mother, both of whom -were worthy people who looked upon religion as a kind of medicine that -it was advisable to have within reach for times of serious sickness, but -which was likely to upset the stomach, and indeed the whole course of -life, if taken regularly as a cordial. Yet if religion is what Mr. -Carlyle called it—the thing a man honestly believes in his -heart—Maniwel’s parents were not without it, for every superstition and -old wife’s tale that lingered on the moors found a place in their creed. - -Maniwel’s religion, then, was old enough to be new-fashioned, and -therefore to be looked upon with misgiving by those who insisted on -adherence to theological articles; but inasmuch as he kept up with his -creed instead of hitching his wagon to a theoretical star, they were -constrained to admit that he was a decent sort of chap, and a better -guide and comforter than most when there was “a bit o’ bother on.” - -His love for his two children was very deep, though that for his son was -not unmixed with irritation at his sulkiness and want of stamina; -conditions attributable, he told himself, to the circumstances that -attended his birth and early up-bringing. He was concerned for him now, -and with womanly clairvoyance could read something of both his mind and -Nancy’s. - -“Jagger!” he said, and the tone roused the young man from his dreams and -caused him to turn an almost startled look on his father. “I’ve stopped -up to have a word wi’ you when there’s nobody else by. A mother ’ud -manage a job o’ this sort better than a man, but when the mother’s -wanting a man must do his best. I was young myself once and I’ve stood -where you’re standing. Your mother was all in all to me i’ them days, -lad; and if I’d missed her t’ moor ’ud have become a wilderness. It’s a -question she’d have asked you—do you feel i’ that way regarding Nancy?” - -“Aye, God knows I do,” replied Jagger with emphasis. - -“You want to be mortal sure on’t,” continued his father. “If you love t’ -new business better than her—if you’d rather give her up than it—then -you can afford to lose her.... Nay, you’d better hearken and let me -talk; it’ll pay you better, if it isn’t for me to say so. Baldwin threw -out a hint—he tried to pull it back but it was too late—’at yon young -fellow ’at’s got your job is after her an’ all; but if you care for each -other as you think you do there’s no ’casion to worry about that; there -was more than me ’ud ha’ liked your mother.” - -“I’ll wring his neck for him yet,” muttered Jagger savagely. - -“Words, lad! Naught but words! It’s that I don’t like to hear i’ you. If -she favours Inman she’ll wed him, and his neck’ll be safe enough, so -we’ll let that pass. What I want you to be sure of is that she’s the -right lass for you; and if you’re sure o’ that then I want you to go the -right way to get her.” - -Maniwel’s eyes were shining with a tender light, and his face looked -almost young again as the glow from the grate cast its reflection over -it. He was leaning forward a little, searching his son’s face and trying -to catch the eyes that were bent downward. - -“It’s a fact what grannie says—though I’ve no patience with their silly -rhymes, ’at stand for more than t’ Bible wi’ some folks—’at most o’ t’ -Clegg women have supped sorrow when they wed. It’s a job when lassies -are run after for their brass and not for theirselves, and that’s what’s -happened wi’ most o’ t’ Cleggs. When a man and a maid come together, -lad, brass has to be thought on; but it’s a poor foundation for a happy -home. ‘Love never faileth,’ we read i’ t’ Book,—it stands like t’ Cove; -but brass fails oft enough, and so does fancy. Are you sure, lad? Are -you sure?” - -“Yes,” he said hoarsely; “my love for Nancy’ll stand like t’ Cove; -there’s naught’ll shake it.” - -The father gazed at him in silence, not yet satisfied, but wondering how -far it was wise to go and bewailing his lack of woman’s ready intuition. - -He was not sure of Nancy—how should he be? But after all that was his -son’s affair and one it was ill to meddle with. If they loved each other -with all their hearts he would wish them Godspeed in spite of all the -doggerel in the witch-wives’ collection. - -“Then I’d go t’ straight road wi’ her, lad,” he continued. “Make it in -your way to see her before another day’s out, and just tell her ’at you -think more of her than of aught else there is i’ t’ wide world. As like -as not she’ll say ’at i’ that case you’ll do as she wants you and make -friends wi’ Baldwin; and all t’ time it’ll be you and not Baldwin she’s -thinking about, and if you’ll only bide your time and look where you’re -going, you’ll as like as not come back wi’ your arm round her waist. But -women has to be humoured and made to think ’at they’re getting their own -way; and when they’ve got a whimsey i’ their head it’s no use taking t’ -hammer and punch to it, ’cause that only drives it deeper in; you’ve got -t’ use t’ oil-can and loosen it bit by bit till they hardly know they’ve -lost it. And i’stead o’ bending your brows while you look like t’ Gordel -i’ a thunderstorm it ’ud pay you to put a smile on, and a face like t’ -Cove when t’ afternoon sun shines on it. ‘Laugh and the world laughs -with you,’ it says on t’ almanack, and t’ worst gift your mother left -wi’ you—and, poor lass, she couldn’t help it—was a long face and a -quick temper. I’m afraid for you, Jagger, but I wish you well, lad; and -I’m stumbling along t’ road your mother ’ud ha’ gone easy.” - -The young man looked steadily into his father’s face, but the shadow was -still deep on his forehead. - -“Then if that’s her last word you’d have me knuckle under to Baldwin, -and be t’ laughing stock o’ t’ country-side?” he asked in a low hard -voice. - -“If I loved her better than aught else i’ t’ world I’d be like t’ man in -t’ parable ’at was seeking goodly pearls; I’d sell all ’at I had to get -her,” replied his father. “Mind you, lad, I’m straight wi’ you; I don’t -think Baldwin’ll have you back; but I daresay he’d like t’ chance o’ -refusing you and glorying in it, for little minds take pleasure i’ -little things. But i’ that case, you see, you’ll ha’ won your case wi’ -Nancy——” - -“And if he’s more sense than you give him credit for,” interrupted -Jagger, in a voice that had grown even more bitter; “if he knows which -side his bread’s buttered on, and takes me back with this Inman to be my -boss, and the pair of ’em to force me to do their dirty work or else be -called a thief, you’d have me swallow it?” - -He set his teeth as he finished his inquiry, and kept his eyes fixed on -his father’s; but the older man was unmoved. - -“There’s nobody can force you to do dirty work,” he said, “and if Nancy -’ud want you to do it, then t’ pearl isn’t worth t’ price ’at’s asked -for it. But I’d like to think better o’ t’ lass. Her father was a queer -’un, but straight; and if you don’t use t’ file where you should use t’ -plane I think you’d smooth things out. If you can’t—well, t’ straight -road is t’ only right road. You may sell all you have to buy t’ pearl, -but you may neither borrow nor steal. Right’s right, Sundays and -week-days and t’ year through.” - -Jagger removed his eyes and the tense look left his face. For a while he -did not speak and the father was also silent. Then he said: - -“I’ll try to see her to-morrow. She’ll be going to Betty Walker’s and I -can meet her as she comes down t’ Cove road. But she’s a temper of her -own and I bet a dollar we fratch.” - -Something not unlike a sigh, but with a touch of impatience in it, -escaped Maniwel’s lips. - -“If you meet her wi’ your prickles out you might as well stop at home,” -he said. “Turn ’em inside so as they’ll check your tongue, and then -you’ll maybe win through.” - - - CHAPTER IX - - IN WHICH ONE LOVER WALKS OUT AND ANOTHER - WALKS IN - -PURE is the air on Mawm moor, charged with the virtues of the sea and -the strength of the hills! and pure are the streams that fill the -runnels and tinkle their accompaniment to the music of the breeze as it -sweeps the strings of bent grass and reed! - -Good and desirable as these things are, however, Mawm can claim in their -possession nothing extraordinary. There are other moors where the air is -as heavily charged with life’s elixir and the waters course as sweet and -fresh. - -But in the Cove, Mawm has something altogether unique; it has, as I have -said, one of the most imposing natural wonders of the land. To picture -it imagine yourself first on a wide stretch of moorland, hemmed in by -mountains—a grassy moor, whose surface is scarred by great terraces of -fissured limestone in whose crevices the winds and the birds have -dropped seeds of ferns and flowers that peep above the tops and splash -the scene with colour. - -Imagine an impossible giant furnished with an impossible spade, standing -on the edge of the moor where it begins to fall steeply down into the -valley. He is a giant of the unrecorded past when impossible things -happened; when frozen waters sundered continents and shattered mountains -and scooped out valleys; when great rocks were hurled as if they had -been shuttlecocks from peaks that seemed firm as the world’s -foundations, and embedded themselves on far distant slopes where they -were alien to the soil. - -It is a hollow, crescent-shaped spade on which our giant sets his foot, -and he thrusts it vertically through the solid limestone, piling up the -débris (soon to be covered with the short grass of the moors) on either -side as he proceeds until instead of the green declivity you see a -perpendicular cliff, little short of three hundred feet in height and -nearly a quarter of a mile wide, dazzlingly white when the southern sun -rests there; spectral in the colder moonlight. - -From underneath its base the river emerges; the baby river, conceived -nobody quite knows where on the wild heights above, and carried in that -dark womb of nature until its birth at the foot of the Crag—a giant’s -child, itself destined to be a slave, whose lot it will be to bear to -the sea the filth and off-scouring of factory and dye-house. That, -however, is later history; our concern is with Meander; let the towns -lower down account for Styx! - -The face of the gigantic cliff has its seams and wrinkles, and at a -point midway rapidly-narrowing ledges run out from either side and paint -streaks of green across the grey; but each tapers off and disappears -long before the centre of the crescent is reached. On the western ledge -a few dwarfed ash-plants have rooted themselves on the steeply-shelving -soil, and their presence gives the illusion of breadth and inspires in -the adventurer an entirely false sense of security. One tree stands -within a foot or two of the ledge’s vanishing-point; but few are the -youths of Mawm who have ventured within many yards of it without -self-reproach and prayer. - -Save for the call of the jackdaw and other birds that nest in the -crannies, and the faint puling of the stream, the Cove is quiet in -winter-time as a cathedral cloister, and has something of the -cathedral’s air of mystery and awe. And when the sun is setting in a -haze that betokens snow and frost, and a section of the white cliff -borrows a warmer hue from the blood-red globe whose rays penetrate the -western windows, the sense of reverence is heightened; and though a man -may not bare his head as he stands there it is much if he does not lower -his voice. - -It was just after two o’clock when Nancy left the road at the point -where it begins to fall, and having stood for a moment to watch the sun -tripped down the slippery hillside to the foot of the Cove. It was an -adventure to slide over the short grass, to cling to the slender boles -of the stunted trees in order to check the pace or save herself from -falling, but it was an adventure to which she was accustomed, and which -involved no greater risk than that of a twisted ankle or a bruised knee; -and with one as agile as Nancy there was little fear of either. - -Her cheeks burned as she reached the bottom, and more hotly when Jagger -walked forward and greeted her. - -“I thought you’d be at Betty’s,” he said, “and guessed you’d come this -way.” - -He was the answer to her thoughts—one might say to her prayers; the -embodiment of the image she had been carrying with her all the -afternoon; the substance of her hopes and fears. - -Very strong and masculine and altogether desirable he looked as he stood -there, though his clothes were well worn and the collar he had put on -for the occasion of Saturday was badly frayed. An uneasy smile was on -his face, and his hands played awkwardly with the stick they held; but -Nancy knew by intuition that he had come to make his peace, and her -heart bounded; yet the perverse adviser who is the instrument of our -worse selves, bade her harden her voice and hold back the answering -smile which had almost escaped control. She had been rehearsing the -smooth things she would say if they should meet; but now that the -movement had come from the other side she stiffened, yielding to the -traitor within the gates; and by that act wrecked her hopes. - -“If I’d known you were here I’d as like as not have kept to the road. -I’ve things that want thinking out.” - -It was a lie; but how was he to know it? How was he to know that all he -had to do was to seize her in his arms and master her? His own voice -hardened, and the light died down in his eyes, yet he made a brave -attempt at self-control, remembering his father’s advice, and it was not -perhaps entirely his fault that his tone was querulous and unconvincing. - -“I’m wanting to make it up, Nancy. I’ve been miserable this last three -weeks; and it’s a shame it should have come to this just when we’d got -to an understanding. If it hadn’t been for you I shouldn’t have been so -particular about a rise, and Baldwin and me wouldn’t have quarrelled. -Not but what it ’ud have had to come sooner or later, for there’s nobody -knows better than you that he taxes your patience past all bearing, and -there comes a time when a fellow’s bound to make a stand.” - -He paused, realising that this was not what he had meant to say, and -Nancy stood with her eyes averted and her hands clasped in front of her. - -“I don’t know that all this gets us much forrader,” she answered coldly, -hating herself all the while for her coldness, but yielding to the -miserable pressure from within. “I’d been thinking that maybe you’d come -and say you were sorry, and fall in with what’s best for both of us. To -go straight away, same as you did, and plan to start for yourself when -you knew the business was my living as well as Baldwin’s, didn’t seem as -if you thought overmuch o’ me——” - -Where were all the tender thoughts, all the pleasing projects, she had -entertained for hours past and been seeking an opportunity to reveal? -Where were all the cajoling artifices she had designed to melt his -stubborn mood and convict him of folly? All flung to the winds forsooth, -for no better reason than that he had made the first overtures for -peace. - -“I’m sorry,” he answered; but only too doggedly; “not for what I did but -for t’ way I did it. I wouldn’t have hurt you for t’ world, neither i’ -your pocket or any other way, and I wasn’t meaning ought o’ t’ sort——” - -“There’s a way of showing that,” Nancy interrupted, with a degree more -warmth in her tone. “If you mean what you say you’ll be willing to drop -it——” She avoided the word “shop” or “business,” but Jagger understood -her. “You’ll see for yourself you were too hasty, and if you’d only -taken me into your confidence we could have planned something together -that would have put a flea in Baldwin’s ear.” - -“What could we have planned?” asked Jagger, on whose horizon a ray of -light was breaking, though he was still suspicious, still half-hostile -because of the confidence of the girl’s rebuke. - -“We could have told him we were going to be married,” she said, “and you -could have left the rest to me.” Perhaps the cold note that crept into -her voice again was intended to screen the wave of colour that swept -over her face, which Jagger never saw because he was gazing at a -possibility. “I should have told him that he’d have to make you a -partner, seeing that you were going to be my husband, and that it was my -property and partly my money.” - -She ended haltingly, because her coldness was disappearing and she was -drawing near to the starting point that she had planned before they met; -also because she began to wonder if there had been anything bold and -unmaidenly in her explanation. - -Half timidly she stole a glance at Jagger’s face, and the look she saw -there stopped all further utterance. - -“And do you think I’d truckle to a man like Baldwin Briggs for all t’ -partnerships i’ t’ world?” he broke in hotly. “Would I sell my soul to -the devil for money? It’s bad enough to work for a man like him for -wages; but to share t’ responsibility for all his thieving underhanded -ways is a thing I wouldn’t have for all t’ brass i’ t’ Bank of England. -Me a partner with Baldwin Briggs! I’ll beg i’ t’ streets first!” - -He drove the stick into the ground in his temper, and Nancy froze for a -moment, and then a wave of hot anger and humiliation swept over her. - -“So that’s your love, is it?” she cried. “It’s to humble me and turn me -away with your foot that you’ve come here! Thank God I’ve found you out -before it was too late! Aye, and God forgive me ’at I should have -lowered myself to talk o’ marrying you, only to be scorned and spat at. -To tell me to my face that I’d have you sell your soul to the devil! I -hate you, Jagger Drake! Get you gone before I sell my soul to the devil -and do you a mischief! Get you gone, I say!” - -If only the tears had come then, all might have been well; but the -springs were parched,—dried up by the heat of her indignation, and it -was fire and not moisture that shone in her eyes. Jagger faced the -storm, and like Lot’s wife when the ashes of Sodom fell on her, was -turned to stone. Too late he remembered his father’s caution, the -torrent of his temper had passed the sluice-gates and could not be -recalled though its force was spent. For a few moments he remained -immovable whilst the fierce anger of the girl he loved expended itself -in words that battered and dulled his senses without reaching his -understanding; then with a groan he turned away like a fool, and -stumbled up the hillside to the road. - -Yet though his spirits were heavy as lead, it was upon the girl and not -him that the catastrophe fell with crushing weight. Bitterly as he -cursed the fate that had parted them again in anger, he was too sure of -his love for her, too convinced of her love for him, to doubt that the -hour of their reconciliation was only delayed; and the thought that was -uppermost in his mind as he neared his home was of his father’s kindly -scorn—a scorn that cut across the soul sometimes like the lash of a -whip. - -Nancy read the situation more truly, though perhaps she did not read it -at all, but just listened to the malevolent inward voice that told her -the breach was widened beyond repair at last. - -She was heartsick, and nursed an anger that would not be pacified: the -anger of self-reproach and humiliation; and as she stood there with set -teeth and clenched hands, breathing like one who endures severe physical -pain and is restraining the impulse to cry aloud, she knew that she -would not marry Jagger Drake, and that the fault was hers, no less than -his. Instinctively she realised that the moment of reconciliation had -passed and would not return; and for a while she was stunned; conscious -of nothing but shame and bitter resentment. She hated Jagger, but not as -bitterly as she hated herself. - -Slowly the sun sank and the haze thickened; but she still stood there -with her eyes on the Cove. On the moor above a shepherd was gathering -his sheep. She could not see him, but occasionally the sound of his -voice reached her ear, and more regularly the sharp admonitory bark of -dogs. Incuriously she turned her eyes in the direction and saw through -the mist the shadowy forms of the flock 300 feet above her head. There -were two dogs, she noticed, and by that sign knew that the voice she had -heard was Swithin’s. One of the dogs was young and frolicsome, and had -much to learn of life’s responsibilities. It was fussing about the -outside of the flock now, harassing the sheep instead of guiding them, -out of mere playfulness and mischief. One of them, tormented beyond -endurance, broke away from the rest and ran down the slope towards the -side of the Cove, pursued by the dog which made no attempt to head it -off until a stern cry from the shepherd sought to bring it to a sense of -its duty, when it stood still and gazed upwards. By this time the older -dog was tearing down the precipitous slope, but the sheep was already on -the grassy track that ran out on to the narrow ledge on the cliff face, -where the shepherd could not see it. - -“There’s the devil of a mess there,” said a voice in Nancy’s ear that -she recognised as Inman’s. - -She experienced no sensation of surprise, just as she had felt none of -excitement or suspense at what was happening before her eyes. For the -moment she was dead to all external experiences and thrills, and the -real was shadowy as a dream. - -“Ben will fetch her back,” she said. “It was Robin’s fault: he drove her -there and now hangs back.” - -It was true. Swithin was clambering down the steep slope with an old -man’s slow speed and the young dog was standing a body’s length behind -Ben who was on the ledge, silent and calculating. Then there came an -angry call, and Robin turned and slunk back up the hill at a careful -distance from his master. - -Meantime the sheep was also standing with its head turned inquiringly in -the direction of old Ben, who was creeping quietly forward. - -“If it goes another step its number’s up,” said Inman coolly. “I’ve been -on there as far as it was safe to go, and I know what I’m talking about. -It’s barely room to turn now.” - -“Lots of animals have lost their lives there,” Nancy replied in a dull -voice. “Once a fox got on and couldn’t get back. It dropped to the -bottom.” - -She was roused now and fascinated with the tragedy that was taking place -before her eyes; but Inman took a cigarette from the case in his -waistcoat pocket and lit it deliberately. - -“The old dog’s got it weighed up,” he said, as he tossed the match away. -“What’s he going to do?” - -Almost as he spoke, the question was answered. The sheep had half -turned, but seemed to hesitate, and suddenly Ben sprang forward, quite -over the sheep’s back; struggled for a second or two to keep his -feet,—and fell down the face of the cliff. - -Nancy clutched Inman’s arm and closed her eyes. When she opened them -again the sheep was making its way up the hill to join the flock, and -Swithin was clambering over the rocks to where Ben’s body lay in the -water. To the sickness of Nancy’s soul there was added a physical nausea -that caused her to lean heavily against Inman’s supporting arm. - -“He gave his life for her, and died like a hero. What is there better -than dying game?” Inman’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact. “He’d have -come to a gun-shot, or a pennorth o’ poison sooner or later, so what’s -the odds? The other dog—Robin, did you call him? a better name ’ud be -Jagger—’ll take his place, I suppose.” - -Still she was silent; but the arm that was about her waist did not -tighten, and she could not complain that he took advantage of her -faintness. - -“It was horrible,” she said at length, as she made an attempt he did not -resist to stand erect. “Life is full of horrible things.” - -“Not a bit of it,” he said, and he threw the half-smoked cigarette into -the stream as he spoke. “Life is full of very pleasant things if you -know where to look. Ben’s dead and done for, and Swithin ’ud do better -to get back to his work instead of standing blubbering and cursing over -a carcass. Every dog has his day, and Ben ended his nobly, though I -daresay the sheep ’ud have come off all right if he’d left her alone. It -was Jagger’s fault—I beg pardon, I mean Robin’s. He had his fun out of -her, and what does it matter to him if he drove her crazy so long as he -saved his own skin? Did you see how he crept away? All the same I -suppose he’ll get Ben’s job. It’s the way of the world!” - -“Jagger’s no coward,” she answered listlessly. It was no concern of hers -to defend the man who had gone out of her life, and the protest was the -last spark from the ashes of a love that was nearly cold. Nothing that -Inman could say would cause her to fire again. - -“Coward!” he repeated, without emotion of any kind. “We don’t call -babies cowards, whether they’re dog-babies or men-babies. Jagger’s a -baby, playing at being a man. He’s in trouble o’ some sort now—I met -him down the road with a face as long as a fiddle, running to his daddy -to have his sore finger kissed.” - -She had no reply ready and indeed was not disposed to reply. Her heart -was like an arid desert where every fountain of emotion was dry. Life -was like a desert, too, with no prospect save that of limitless -dreariness. She had been dreaming of marriage; of a home of her own -where she would be free from Baldwin’s petty tyrannies and Keturah’s -complaints. She had fashioned a husband out of her own fancy, and he had -fallen to pieces—crumbled like dust at the first test. What better was -Jagger, in spite of all his protestations, than Inman or even Baldwin? -He was all for himself, just as they were, though self-righteousness -might deceive him. And he had humiliated her bitterly, which Inman had -never done. Inman was masterful and showed his worst side——. - -The sun had passed behind the mountains and Nancy shivered. Inman drew -her arm within his own and moved forward up the hill, and she made no -protest, realising in a dull half-conscious way that her future had been -determined for her. - -The next morning she left the village and went to stay with her uncle. - - - CHAPTER X - - IN WHICH THE COMPANY AT THE “PACKHORSE” IS - INVITED TO DRINK A HEALTH - -CHRISTMAS! The weather that ushered in the festive season was false to -all the hoary traditions of crisp air and powdery snow, and could hardly -have behaved more churlishly. When the sun turned away its red face from -the melancholy scene at the Cove on that fateful Saturday afternoon in -early December, it showed itself no more for a whole fortnight. The thin -haze, which had been beautiful as gossamer when the noon-day sun shone -through it, and resplendent as samite when the fingers of dying day -embroidered it with gold, became a clammy mist, cold as the touch of -death, that found the crevices in the human frame where aches and pains -lay dormant and stirred them to activity. Old Cawden, shirted and -night-capped, hid his great bulk from sight. Vapours rose like -water-sprites from the stream and mingled with the cloud overhead. Robin -and starling sat—who knows how miserably?—in their nests, and left -crabbed winter to its mood of peevish silence. - -On Christmas Eve a Viking’s wind, the “black-north-easter,” awoke in the -caverns of the Pennines, and went out to sweep the mists from the moors -with his broom of sleet, and right well he did his work. All through the -hours of Christmas Day he carried on, and with such fierce zeal that -hailstones danced in the streets of Mawm almost without cessation, like -goblins set free by some Lord of Misrule to celebrate their Saturnalia! -Shades of Charles Dickens! There was little enough of his genial spirit -upon the moors that Christmastide! - -Conditions improved a little on Boxing Day, and the wind that blustered -up the valley from the south, and barked at the heels of the -black-north-easter, was kindlier and more playful. Patches of blue -appeared among the clouds. The sun opened a sleepy eye at intervals and -smiled on the grey old village, as much as to say that this game of -hide-and-seek would not last for ever; and when evening fell the stars -came out and studded a blue-black sky from horizon to horizon, with not -a single cloud to dim the lustre of any one of them. - -The sanded bar-parlour of the “Packhorse,” gaily decorated with holly -and one huge bunch of mistletoe, was full, and business brisk. The -landlord was kept on the run, but managed to find time to contribute an -occasional scrap to the conversation of his guests, which was under no -restraint. Prominent amongst the crowd because of his position near the -fire, where he occupied an arm-chair and faced old Ambrose, was Maniwel -Drake, whose custom it had always been to make the evening of Boxing Day -the occasion of one of his rare visits to the inn; and it was plain to -see that his presence had affected the drift of the elders’ talk. - -“It’s nowt but what you could expect,” piped old Ambrose. “There wor a -sayin’ o’ my mother’s when I wor a young lad ’at’s trew as Holy Gospil -to this day, ’at there’s no gettin’ white meal out of a coal sack; and -by that figger o’ speech I do Baldwin no wrong, neebours; not even this -blessed Kersmas-time when we’re meant to be i’ love an’ charity, same as -it says i’ t’ Prayer Book.” - -“That’s a trew word, Ambrose,” said Swithin “Kersmas or Midsummer-day, a -coal sack’s a coal sack and t’ description fits Baldwin same as a dinner -o’ broth. But by his-sen Baldwin’s no match for Maniwel, being a bit -over slow i’ t’ uptake; and what bothers me is ’at this young fellow -should ha’ turned up just i’ t’ nick o’ time, as you may put it, to fill -Jagger’s place and scheme for his maister, for there’s no getting over -it ’at he has a gift God never gave him and the devil’s own headpiece -for mischief-making.” - -“Well, well,” said Maniwel cheerily; “we’re partly as we’re made, -Swithin, and partly as we make ourselves, and there’s few of us ’at -don’t carry both coal-sacks and meal-sacks about wi’ us; and it’s as -much as we can do to see ’at we don’t use one for t’other ourselves -without peeping into our neighbour’s storeholes. Baldwin isn’t all bad, -as I can bear witness ’at worked alongside of him thirty year and more.” - -“Maybe not,” conceded Swithin in a doubtful voice. “There’s worse, I -dare say, if bad ’uns could all be put through t’ sieve. This here Inman -now——” - -“Aye,” interrupted old Ambrose with as much energy as his feeble frame -was capable of; “but they’re both plannin’ an’ schemin’ for one end -which is nayther more nor less nor to put a spoke i’ Maniwel’s wheel; -an’ t’owd saying is reyt, ’at a man mud as weel eat the divel his-sen as -t’ broth he’s boiled in. Baldwin swallows all this young fellow puts on -his plate; and if one’s worse nor t’other it’s both on ’em. You can -trust Maniwel to see what isn’t there; but I say they’re a pair o’ ill -’uns, an’ nowt but mischief is like to come when sich a pair o’ black -crows get their ’eads together.” - -“My word, but Ambrose has getten steam up,” said the landlord -admiringly, as he leaned for a moment against the mantelpiece and held -one hand towards the flame. “Since Inman came he’s had to bottle -his-self a bit; but wi’ him being away for t’ holidays he’s blowing off -i’ t’ old style.” - -“He’s a black-hearted ’un,” began the old man again excitedly, but -Maniwel interposed. - -“He’s no friend o’ mine, right enough, Ambrose; but i’ this country we -reckon a man innocent while he’s proved guilty, and it’s no blame to -this Inman ’at he does his best for his own master. And seeing ’at -Jagger and me know ’at we have t’ good will of all our neighbours we -don’t ruffle our feathers over their goings-on same as a hen when it -sees a hawk. Right enough, they’ve tried to rut t’ road a bit, but they -can’t block it, so you’ve no ’casion to worry about us.” - -“It was Inman ’at put Baldwin up to t’ trick of holding t’ whip over Joe -Gardiner,” said one of the younger men. “Joe told me himself ’at Inman -had done it, and threatened him ’at if he carried timber for you they’d -start a dray o’ their own.” - -“All right, my lad,” replied Maniwel, who knew better than any present -what ingenious plans had been prepared and executed to hamper his -business; how not only the carrier had been suborned to delay the -carriage of his goods, but the timber-merchants themselves had been -warned of the risk they were running in affording him supplies. These, -and a dozen similar annoyances he and his son had suffered in silence, -and had succeeded in countering with more or less difficulty. - -“I don’t doubt but what you’re right, and no doubt he’d ha’ liked me and -Jagger to pull a face over t’ job. But I’m a pig-headed chap myself, and -bad to move when I get set; and it’s a theory o’ mine ’at a man who goes -t’ straight road’ll find fewer pits to fall into than them ’at goes -crook’d. And that being so I’ve never been one to wet my handkercher and -try to make t’ ship move wi’ groaning into t’ sails; but just keep -jogging on wi’ a good heart, and when one stick fails me, find another.” - -A movement of pots and feet indicated the applause of Maniwel’s -audience, for though there was not a man among them who understood and -shared his philosophy, his uprightness and geniality had made most men -his well-wishers. - -“And how be ye getting on, Maniwel, if it’s a fair question?” asked -Swithin. “If nobbut them got on ’at deserved it you’d none be long on t’ -road; but it’s a trew word ’at I’ve seen the wicked i’ great prosperity, -and there’s some we could name ’at brass fair oozes out on.” - -“Aye, reyt enough,” broke in the thin eager voice of old Ambrose; “but -there’s a verse I made when I wor a young man ’at puts it in a nutshell. -When a man’s in a gifted mood he sees things as clear as Cove watter, -and two o’ them lines comes back to me at this minute: - - ‘Too mich o’ owt - Is good for nowt’; - -and it’ll ’appen turn out ’at Baldwin’ll go as dry as a gill i’ summer -time.” - -“It’ll none be James Inman’s fault if he isn’t drained,” said one of the -younger men. - -“Nay, but I wouldn’t go as far as that,” old Ambrose replied, shaking -his head to emphasise the negative; “hawks willn’t pick out hawks’ een, -and Baldwin is gettin’ into years and’ll maybe be thankful to have an -able-bodied young fellow o’ t’ same kidney to fetch and carry for him.” - -“Aye, but not to share what he fetches,” persisted the other, “they’re -both playing for their own hand, and yon Inman’s t’ cleverest rogue o’ -t’ two.” - -“Nay, nay, come now!” Maniwel broke in, “it’s t’ wrong time o’ t’ year -for calling any man a rogue; and it ’ud seem most of us better to look -after our own ’tatie patch than to count t’ thistles in our neighbour’s -plot. You were asking me how we’re getting on, Swithin, and all I can -say is ’at things might be a deal worse; and we’ve good hopes ’at when -I’ve got my brass in they’ll be a deal better. As to t’ wicked -prospering—well, there’s some kinds o’ prosperity ’at ’ud be dear at a -gift.” - -Swithin had laid down his pipe and cleared his throat preparatory to -answering this argument when the abrupt entrance of Inman turned all -eyes in the direction of the door. With easy deliberateness the newcomer -unwound the scarf from his neck and opened his great-coat, but removed -neither. An amused and half-contemptuous smile was on his lips, and his -dark eyes swept the company and rested for a moment with malignant -satisfaction on the undisturbed features of Maniwel. - -“We’re favoured to-night, I see,” he remarked. “‘The gods have come down -in the likeness of men!’” - -Nobody answered him, and he stood with his back to the closed door with -the sardonic smile deepening about his lips. - -“I haven’t had the opportunity of wishing you the usual compliments, -gentlemen,” he continued. “Absence must be my apology, and my absence -can be explained in a few words. I prefer to be my own messenger when I -have any news, good or ill, to share with my neighbours, and what I have -to tell you is altogether good. I have been married whilst I was away, -and have just brought my bride home with me. She has bid me leave this -sovereign with you, Albert, so that the company may drink her -health—the health of Nancy Inman, lately Nancy Clegg. I won’t ask you -to drink mine.” - -He put the coin into the astonished landlord’s hand as he spoke, and -curled his lip contemptuously as he noted the hostile silence which -greeted the communication. Only one man spoke—it was he who had -revealed his thoughts a moment before. - -“A lass ’at’ll wed thee is no loss to nob’dy,” he muttered sourly. - -“Indeed!” said Inman, wheeling round and fixing the speaker with an eye -that stabbed. “I’ll remember that to your credit, Jack Pearce.” - -“Nay,” said Maniwel calmly; “you’d best forget it. Jack spoke before he -thought. There’s one at my house ’at’ll be sorry he’s lost her, if so be -as Mr. Inman’s speaking truth, which I don’t doubt.” - -“The truth’s here, in black and white,” Inman replied with equal -calmness; “anyone can see it who wants”; and he offered a paper to the -landlord. - -“Then poor Nancy’s tied a knot wi’ her tongue ’at she willn’t be able to -loosen wi’ her teeth,” wailed old Ambrose, and would have said more but -Inman interrupted him. - -“I fancy you find me in the way, gentlemen, and will discuss this happy -event more freely in my absence. There are some of you I cannot expect -to honour this toast with any enthusiasm; but I won’t remain to spy on -you. I am to share my wife’s home, and you will excuse me if I now -return there to share her company.” - -He spoke mockingly, like an actor who had rehearsed his part until he -knew it by heart, but when he was about to withdraw Maniwel’s voice -stopped him. - -“This’ll be sore news for Jagger, Mr. Inman, and well you know it. But -disappointment comes to us all one time or another; and the lad played -his cards badly and must make t’ best on’t. Maybe he’ll come to see ’at -you were t’ best man for her; maybe she’ll come to see ’at you -weren’t—there’s no telling. But anyway I’ll drink her health, my lad, -wi’ a right good will, for I wish t’ lass naught but good, so if you -were thinking ’at I should be one to stand out you’re mista’en. And -there’s one word I’d say to you ’at it’ll do you no harm to remember—‘A -good Jack makes a good Jill,’ and it’s t’ same with a bad ’un.” - -The voice and the eyes were alike sympathetic and sincere, and Inman was -disconcerted; but only for a moment. - -“Much obliged, I’m sure,” he said dryly. “I hope you’ll spend a -profitable evening in this Mutual Improvement Class, gentlemen. I’m -sorry I can’t.” - -When the door closed upon him Maniwel spoke again. - -“This’ll be a sad blow, neighbours, for Jagger; but he’s got to keep his -feet. I should be sorry for him to hear of it from anyone else, and I’ll -step round home now, and help to buck him up. But if you’re agreeable -we’ll just drink to the lass first. God bless her! say I.” - -“Aye, and God help her!” growled the protester. - - * * * * * - -A dim light from a storm lantern threw into strong relief the features -of father and son as they sat, the younger man on the bench; the older -on an upturned box, amid the shadows of the workshop. Jagger’s eyes were -on the ground, on the heap of shavings that he had been turning over -with his foot for half an hour; gathering them into a heap, dispersing -them, and gathering them again. - -Maniwel’s eyes were fixed on his son’s face. Talking was over, or almost -over. He had said all that he could think of; and if earnest solicitude -for another’s welfare, keen anxiety that character should be hardened -and tempered by adversity, is prayer, then Maniwel was praying. The door -was barred, and there had been no interruption of any kind. - -At length Jagger raised his head and met his father’s gaze. His own face -was white and weary-looking; there were lines on the brow that looked in -that feeble light like ink-smudges, and there were similar shadows at -the corners of the mouth. - -He had received the communication and all his father’s comments in -absolute silence and now that he spoke his voice was hard and resolute. - -“You’ll have heard, maybe, that ’Zekiel’s little lad died this -afternoon. They came down soon after you went across to Albert’s, and I -went back with ’em. They want to bury on Wednesday, so I’ll stay up and -be getting on with the job.” - -“I’ll bide wi’ you, lad,” said the father. “I’ve done naught this last -three days”; but Jagger shook his head. - -“Nay, get you to bed. I shall lose no sleep and you would. I’ve got -something else to coffin beside Billy.” - -“Well, happen you’ll be better by yourself. But when you’ve nailed your -trouble up, lad, put it out o’ sight, and don’t let its ghost walk about -wi’ you. There’s two ways of dealing wi’ trouble—you can either lie -down and let it crush t’ sperrit out of you, or you can climb on t’ top -of it and get an uplift.” - -Jagger looked steadily into his father’s eyes. - -“That’s so,” he said firmly. “I’ve got to put my back into this business -now and make it move, and, by gen, I will.” - - - CHAPTER XI - - IN WHICH THE CONDITIONS ARE WINTRY - -WINTER tightened its grip on the moor when the New Year came in. The -weather-wise knew it would be so, when night after night a deep halo of -gold and brown circled the moon, and the farmers gathered their sheep -together lest they should be lost in the drifts with which long -experience had made them familiar. - -January passed, however, and their expectations were not realised; but -the long bent grass curved beneath the weight of its frosted jewels; and -the surface of the moor and the shelving sides of the hills were so -silvered that scarcely a hint of green was given over the whole extent. -The waters of the tarn were frozen, inches thick, and the ruts in the -road were hard as chiselled masonry. - -Overhead the sky was faintly blue, and the sun pursued his daily course -from Cawden to Fountains’ Fell, shawled in mist, like an age-worn and -enfeebled pilgrim who will do his duty while he has strength to move at -all, but who has no warmth to spare for those who travel in his company. - -If the sun was sluggish and ineffective no such fault could be found -with the winds that whistled over the moors and in the chimneys of farm -and cottage, for they were strong as wild horses, and biting as fine -hail. Woe to the ears that were exposed to the full force of the blast -upon the uplands, for they were seared as with hot irons! Yet who that -was healthy and stout of heart; who that was moorland born, and was, -with the ling and the cotton-grass part and parcel of the moor but felt -his pulse beat to a quicker and more joyous rhythm as he fought the wind -or leaned his back against it! - -Of that doughty company was old Squire Harris, lord of the manor and -owner, though not master, of thousands of broad rebellious acres; -master, on the other hand, of the hearts of men and women who owed him -no allegiance governed by the purse; a man of whom Mawm was proud, and -whose kindliness and justice earned him the respect even of evildoers. -Heavy of body and light of heart he sat his horse on this cold February -morning, paying no heed to the stinging attentions of the wind, but with -an observant eye on the work that was going on in the yard of the home -farm. - -“A good lad at his job, Yorke,” he said approvingly to the steward who -was standing at the stirrup; “Jagger always framed well from being a -lad; and Briggs has been a fool to part with him. Did you say his father -was about?” - -“He left not ten minutes ago,” replied the steward. “You’ll overtake him -if you’re going towards the village.” - -The squire nodded and moved away. Five minutes later he caught sight of -Maniwel’s sturdy figure and cantered up to his side. - -“Well, Drake!” he said heartily as he checked his horse’s pace; “your -head would make the fortune of one of these new-fangled painters, for -it’s a study in bright colours—blue ears and pink cheeks!” - -“A Happy New Year to you, Mr. Harris—what’s left of it!” returned the -other. “It’s better to be blue outside than inside, anyway; and after -all it’s a bit o’ real Yorkshire, is this wind; and what more can a man -want i’ February?” - -“Right you are, Drake! A man who wants ought better wants a thrashing -for his greediness, eh? You and I drink life in with every breath, don’t -we? Beats all your orange-scented breezes into a cocked hat. A Happy New -Year to you, too, my friend, and prosperous! How are things looking?” - -“Neither pink nor blue,” answered Maniwel with a twinkle in his eye, -“thank you kindly for asking. Some days they’re drab wi’ a bit o’ blue -in; and other some they’re drab wi’ a bit o’ pink.” - -“But never black, I hope,” inquired Mr. Harris. - -“I’m colour blind to black,” answered Maniwel, “when it gets as far as a -blue-drab I stir t’ fire up. There’s always something cheerful there.” - -The squire looked down at the honest face admiringly. - -“And what about these rumours that are flying round that you’re not -being treated fairly?” he asked. “Is there anything in them? Can I put -in a word usefully anywhere?” - -“No, sir,” said the other firmly, “though it’s like you to name it. What -you’ve heard, I don’t know, but when tales begin to fly about they pick -up more than they started with, and I dare bet I’ve naught to put up -with i’ business no worse than what you’ve had i’ politics.” - -“Perhaps not,” returned Mr. Harris with a laugh; “but if some of these -stories are true, or only partly true, they’re beyond what’s fair and I -shouldn’t hesitate to tell the parties so. However, I admire your grit, -and you shall have what I can put in your way, I promise you. I’ve told -Mr. Yorke so.” - -“Thank you kindly, Mr. Harris; and you shall have honest work in return; -but as to putting a word in wi’ them ’at wish us harm it ’ud happen only -breed more slyness and bitterness. I’ve a notion ’at t’ best way o’ -dealing wi’ ill-will is to live it down and try to make a’ enemy into a -friend. It’s a slow way, and it doesn’t always come off, but it’s worth -trying.” - -“Very well,” said the squire cheerily, “but it takes a deal of oil to -soften the grindstone, Drake! However, you can but try. Is Jagger of -your way of thinking? I thought he was looking well, if just a wee bit -frost-bitten.” - -“Jagger was converted as sudden as a Methody, t’ night o’ Boxing Day,” -replied Maniwel; “and t’ penitent form was t’ saw-bench in t’ new shop. -If he isn’t altogether o’ my way o’ thinking he has his face that road.” - -“Converted? How so?” The squire turned puzzled eyes on the other, who, -looking up and catching the expression, allowed a smile to overspread -his face. - -“Aye, converted! Put away childish things and became a new creature! You -wouldn’t know him for t’ same man, if you had to live wi’ him. He was -always more of a lass than his sister; but from that night he’s been a -man; and that’s what I call conversion, though it happen isn’t what ’ud -go by that name wi’ t’ Methodies.” - -“I see,” laughed the squire, “I suppose there was a cause for the -change?—but you needn’t tell me. Yorke gave me a hint when I remarked -on the improvement in Jagger’s bearing. His disappointment won’t be an -unmixed evil, I hope. Well, good luck, Drake! Let me know if I can be of -service to you.” - -The horse leaped forward at a touch of the bridle and Maniwel was left -to his reflections; but before he had covered another mile the squire -reined up again, as he overtook a second solitary pedestrian. - -“So it’s you, Mistress Nancy, is it?” he said, looking down -mischievously into the face that was upturned to his own. “Isn’t the air -fresh enough down below that you must needs come up here for your -promenade? Or is your skin too hard to be turned into a pin-cushion for -the wind? Mine is stabbed in ten thousand places!” - -“It nips a bit, sir,” she answered; “but that’s nothing. I thought a -sharp walk on the moor would do me good.” - -“I see!” The squire was reading the face that had been quickly turned -away from his scrutinising gaze. The girl was not ill at ease in his -company, but her expression was hard in harmony with her surroundings, -and there was nothing in her voice that responded to the squire’s -geniality. All the same she was an attractive picture, for the tawny -cheeks were suffused with a rich red, and the black eyes sparkled like -polished jet, besides which she had a good figure and an elastic step, -and held her head like a woman of spirit. - -“I see!” he repeated; and paused before he continued—“You’ve been -entering into the holy estate of matrimony, I’m told, whilst I was away. -I’m afraid I forget the name; but you must allow me to wish you much -happiness. Mistress Nancy.” - -“Thank you, sir. The name is Inman,” she replied; and though she had -schooled herself to repeat the word without revealing the abhorrence it -caused her, a slight curl of the lip and contraction of the brow -afforded signs the squire was not slow to interpret, especially as the -information had been given in the coldest of tones. - -“I shall be making your husband’s acquaintance, no doubt,” he said -kindly. “Meantime I wish you a Happy New Year—the happiest you have -ever experienced!” - -“Thank you, sir,” she answered in the same unemotional voice. “I wish -you the same!” - -When he was out of sight she stopped and stamped her foot. - -“Why can’t they leave me alone?” she muttered angrily. “The happiest I -ever experienced! It’s likely, isn’t it?” - -She had reached a point in the road which was on a level with the top of -the Cove, a hundred yards distant, and as she raised her clouded face -she caught sight of the familiar landmarks and raised her hands to her -eyes as if memory as well as vision could be blotted out. Then, with an -impatient exclamation she turned and opening the gate on the opposite -side of the road, raced across the crisp grass of the moor as though she -fled from a pursuer. - -It was in vain, for the huntsman was within her breast, and when she -stopped from sheer exhaustion on the steep slopes of Kirkby Fell, she -realised the fruitlessness of flight and laughed at her folly. - -“Fool and coward!” she said aloud; and her feelings found relief in the -very sound of her voice though it was charged with scorn. “Can’t you lie -on the bed you’ve made for yourself without whining and crying like a -chained puppy? Are you going to let everybody see what an idiot you’ve -been? ‘Marry in haste and repent at leisure!’ That’s what they’ll say, -wagging their wise heads. What business is it of theirs if I do -repent—the twopenny-ha’penny gossips?” - -The wind whistled on the height and stung her ears until they became -ashen-coloured rather than blue; but she experienced no sense of -physical discomfort, though after the one hot outburst she turned her -feet homewards. By and by she raised her eyes, and looking eastwards saw -the great sweep of the Cove far below, and again averted her head. But -she recovered herself in a moment, and forced her gaze back. - -“You silly fool!” she said. “The Cove’ll neither tell tales nor snigger -at you!” - -She lashed her soul with scorn as mercilessly as the wind scourged her -body, and what the force outside of her could not accomplish the spirit -inside effected with ease, for she shuddered as she looked on the scene -of her frustrated hopes, though she made her eyes sweep the whole -circumference of the crag. - -“Now!” she said in a quieter tone; “go back, Nancy Inman, and speak -smoothly to your lord, and put blinkers on your eyes when Baldwin and -Keturah sneer at you.” - -The mid-day meal had been in progress some minutes when Nancy entered -the kitchen, and the girl read in the black looks of each face promise -of an impending storm. - -“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, with an indifference that belied her -words; “I went further than I thought.” - -Baldwin contracted his brow until the pepper-coloured tufts above his -eyes pointed straight towards her; but he remained silent and Keturah -merely sulked. Inman looked steadily into his wife’s face and said: - -“It isn’t just a question of being late. There’s your share of the work -to do, and Keturah says you’re leaving it all to her——” - -Before he could finish the reproof or Nancy could reply Keturah’s -resolution gave way, and raising her apron to her eyes she broke in—— - -“What’s t’ use o’ talking about me? I’m just my lady’s servant, to fetch -and carry for her from t’ time she gets up in a morning to when she lays -her down at night. I knew what it ’ud be, well I did, when Baldwin said -we mud all live together, for if I don’t know her fine-lady ways ’at’s -brought her up from a child I’d like to know who does. But it’s come to -a nice pass when one o’ my years, and ’at’s been a mother to her, has to -be her slavey.” - -Baldwin pushed back his chair with a hasty exclamation. - -“Slavey be ——!” He used an expression that was not fit for the women’s -ears, and followed it up with the usual succession of spluttered oaths; -until Inman whose vexation had not been deep and was rapidly changing to -contempt took advantage of a lull caused by the older man’s choking to -remark coolly: - -“There’s no need to talk about slaveys or anything of the sort; and -there’s no need to spill either water or—aught else over the job. -Nancy’s made a mistake that she won’t repeat——” - -Nancy had drawn a chair up to the table, but the space in front of her -was empty, for Baldwin was too excited to serve her; and at her -husband’s words she threw back her head. Inman fixed an eye of steel -upon her. - -“That she won’t repeat,” he said again with slow emphasis, and Nancy’s -lip curled though she remained silent. “It’s right that there should be -a fair division of labour, and Nancy’ll do her share——” - -Baldwin’s face had been working strangely during this judicial delivery -and he now seized the carving knife and brought the handle down upon the -table with such vehemence that Keturah screamed. - -“And who the devil are you to lay down the law same as you were master -and I was man? A nice pass, as Keturah says, if we’ve to be set i’ wer -places i’ wer own house. For two pins I’ll bundle you both out, neck and -crop. A man ’at can’t make his wife toe t’ line isn’t fit to be wed; but -you’re not going to lord it over me, if Keturah cares to sup all Nancy -gives her. You’re sadly too ready, young man, with your wills and your -won’ts, as I’ve told you before; and I’m beginning to be sorry I ever -set eyes on you, for there’s been t’ devil to pay ever since.” - -“You see what a storm you’ve raised,” said Inman, looking across at his -wife, who was sitting back in her chair, pleating the edge of the -tablecloth between her fingers. His voice was stern but there was a -scornful look in his eye which partly counteracted the tone. As she made -no reply he turned to his master. - -“If you hadn’t lost your temper you wouldn’t blame me for what I -couldn’t hinder. It isn’t my fault that Nancy wasn’t here to help with -the dinner, and I’ve said it shan’t happen again. I can say no more. As -to turning us out neck and crop——” he paused and looked significantly -at Baldwin who scowled in reply; “perhaps Nancy and I had better talk -things over between ourselves.” - -There was no mistaking the veiled threat though the voice was quite -calm, and Baldwin fired again; but before he could speak Inman continued -in a more conciliatory tone. - -“I meant no offence in what I said a while back, and nobody can say that -I’ve tried to be master. I’ve served you well, and you know it, but if -we can’t live peaceably together we must make other arrangements. Hadn’t -we best let t’ matter drop now and get on with our dinner?” - -“I’m sure,” said Keturah with a timid glance at her brother who had at -length suffered himself to fill Nancy’s plate and push it across the -table; “it’s no wish o’ mine to make trouble; but there’s things flesh -and blood can’t stomach, and when a body isn’t as young as she once was -it stands to reason ’at she can’t be expected to wait hand and foot on -them ’at’s years younger——” - -Nancy rose and walked round Keturah’s chair in order to reach the -mustard, and Inman smiled grimly though he remarked: - -“It isn’t to be expected. Nancy didn’t give it a thought or she wouldn’t -have done it; but as you’ll have no reason to complain again I’d let it -drop now if I were you.” - -Nancy smiled provokingly and by ill-luck Baldwin saw her and his wrath -blazed out afresh. He had been only half placated by Inman’s smooth -words—indeed his foreman’s coolness always irritated him more than an -outburst of temper as he had sense enough to know that it placed him at -a disadvantage. He now turned to Nancy, the veins on his forehead -swelling into tense blue cords. - -“You ——!” Imagination must supply the coarse expressions that sent -Keturah’s hands to her ears and a scowl to Inman’s brow. “You sit there -making game o’ us; same as you’d naught to do but pull t’ strings and we -should all dance to your tune. But you’ve t’ wrong pig by t’ ear, I can -tell you, when you’ve Baldwin Briggs to deal wi’. A nice fool I should -ha’ been to turn t’ business over to another man just because you’ve wed -him. Shut your mouth!” he roared, turning angrily about as Inman -interjected a word; “You’ve had your say; and I don’t doubt but what -you’re hand-in-glove wi’ t’ lass for all your smooth talk. Partners! -I’ll see you both blaze first. I wasn’t born i’ a frost. ‘Do nowt and -take all!’ that’s your motto.” - -His eyes were on Nancy again, and for the first time she deigned a -reply. - -“That only shows what a good scholar I’ve been,” she said with calm -contempt. “‘All for my-sen’ has been the watchword in this house ever -since you came into it, so why blame me for adopting it?” - -Amusement and something not unlike admiration was in Inman’s eyes; but -he veiled his feelings. The next moment he said: - -“We’ll have no stirring up strife, Nancy. Mr. Briggs knows that it was -none o’ my doing to ask to be made partner; and whether he believes me -or not I want no partnership. But he can’t blame a wife for seeking t’ -best she can get for her husband, and especially when she takes ‘No’ for -an answer and makes no more to do about it. I say again we’d best forget -what’s been said and try to cool down. I’ve told you you’ll have no more -trouble with Nancy.” - -The girl met his meaning glance defiantly, but allowed her expression to -speak for her; and Baldwin made no reply of any sort. - -When the meal was finished Inman signalled to his wife to follow him -into the parlour, which had been allocated to their use. - -“You silly fool!” he began when they were alone; lowering his voice to a -whisper and in a tone that was entirely without malice. “Why can’t you -play your cards patiently when you’ve a handful of trumps? You’ve only -to wait a while and you shall be lady to your heart’s content; but -you’ll spoil all if you set Baldwin against me.” - -She looked up into his face disarmed by the unexpected gentleness. - -“There was nothing whatever to do,” she replied. “It was cold meat; the -potatoes were ready for the pan, and Keturah allows nobody to mix her -puddings. If I’d laid the cloth it would have been as much as I should -have done.” - -“Very likely,” assented Inman. “The time’ll come maybe when you can set -Keturah her work; but it isn’t yet, and we’ve got to lie low for a -while. Partner!”—he laughed with sinister meaning and looked into his -wife’s eyes which reflected none of his humour. “We’ll have no -partnerships now, my lass. ‘All for my-sen’ is a game two can play at, -and the cleverest wins.” - -He said no more nor did he kiss his wife as he took his leave of her, -matrimonial trimmings of that kind not being to his taste—for which -relief Nancy was thankful. She remained standing with her eyes on the -ground for quite a long time after he was gone, professing to debate -with herself her future line of conduct but fearing all the time that -she would obey. The power of those steely eyes was over her awake and -asleep. - -“Silly fool indeed!” she muttered as she returned to the kitchen. - - - CHAPTER XII - - IN WHICH BALDWIN’S SKY BECOMES - SLIGHTLY OVERCAST - -DESPITE frequent tiffs and an occasional battle-royal like that which -has just been described, Inman’s influence with his master strengthened -as the days went by. However cunning and suspicious a man may be he is -in danger of being outwitted if he has no better weapons than a quick -temper and a slow brain to oppose to the coolness and acumen of an alert -adversary. And when the adversary protests friendship, and, refusing to -be provoked, offers indisputable evidences of loyalty and goodwill, the -most churlish nature must be affected, as the continual dropping of -water will in course of time smoothen the grittiest rock. - -Such evidences were too conspicuous to be overlooked for Inman never -tired of devising ingenious schemes for crippling the enterprise of the -Drakes; and Baldwin stored in his memory an admiration that nothing -would have wrung from his lips, as he saw with what subtle ingenuity -Inman spread his nets and succeeded in obliterating all traces of his -operations. Suspicion there might be, but where concealment was -advisable Inman took care there should be no proof. Baldwin reconciled -his mind to what was unpalatable in his foreman’s manner because of the -Machiavelian service he was rendering to his interests. The one bitter -ingredient in the cup of his satisfaction was the knowledge that his -competitors—father and son alike—went steadily on their way, -undisturbed by all the hindrances that were set in their path. - -One day towards the end of April Baldwin summoned Inman to the office. -The morning’s letters lay open on the desk, and one of them the master -held in his hand and perused a second time with a sullen look. - -“There’s something here I don’t like,” he said when the foreman had -obeyed his command to close the door. “John Clegg wants me to hold back -my payments this month; says he’s hard put to it what wi’ one and -another calling their brass in, and very little new money coming forrad; -wants me to gi’ three months bills to Johnsons and Greens and put some -o’ t’others off a bit. It’s a nasty look wi’ ’t ’at I don’t fancy.” - -Inman’s brows contracted. “Is it the first time this has happened?” he -asked. - -“Nay, there was another some years back,” Baldwin replied, “when he wor -for holding me up i’ t’ same way; but there wasn’t so much owing then. -It’s been a heavy quarter, has this——” - -“How did you go on, on that occasion?” asked Inman, edging his master -back to essentials. “It came all right in the end, I suppose?” - -“It came all right at t’ time,” explained Baldwin sourly. “I got my back -up, and when he saw it he caved in. It wor naught but a try-on; a dodge -to diddle me out of a bit o’ interest, I reckon, ’at didn’t come off; -and from that day to this all’s gone square. I suppose he thinks I’m -getting old and addled now, and he can have another try; damn him.” - -“He’ll be having to make provision for paying Drake his money out,” said -Inman thoughtfully. “If there’s been one or two more on the same -hop—and there may have been for aught we know—he’ll want time to turn -round, that’s all.” - -“That’s all! is it?” snapped Baldwin. “Then it’s too much! Am I to have -my credit ruined to pay them two devils t’ money they’ll use again’ me? -I’ll see ’em blaze first! He can try it on wi’ someb’dy else—I aren’t -having it!” - -“Hadn’t you best go over to see him?” suggested Inman, “and tell him -straight out how things stand between you and Drakes? After all, he’s -Nancy’s uncle; and when you pointed out that she’d suffer as well as you -if the firm got a bad name he’d be sure to see that it ’ud be the best -plan to put old Drake off, who’d make no bones about it, but think it -was the way Providence was leading him. Then you’d be getting a bit of -your own back at t’ same time.” - -Baldwin’s eyes showed his satisfaction at this advice, for the strained -look gave place to one of cunning; but he suppressed any note of -enthusiasm as he replied: - -“I should spoil t’ job if _I_ was to see him, for my temper’s that hot -it ’ud flame out t’ minute he crossed me; and I couldn’t put it into -words same as you. And you being Nancy’s husband, and a friend of his by -what you’ve told me, it ’ud come more natural ’at you should see him, -pointing out as you say ’at Nancy’s a partner in a manner o’ speaking, -and ’at Maniwel’s set on doing her a’ injury. That’s t’ card you want t’ -play wi’ John; and happen you’d pull it off where I should mullock it.” - -“It’s one of those jobs where they don’t expect a man to take the -master’s place,” said Inman with crafty hesitation. “I’d go in a minute -if I thought it was the best plan; but will Mr. Clegg like it?” - -“Of course he will; and if he doesn’t he can lump it,” replied Baldwin, -who knew that he was no match for his foreman in a wordy argument with a -man of the world like his banker. “If you hadn’t ha’ been Nancy’s -husband it ’ud ha’ been different; but seeing as you are there’s naught -more fitting. If you could catch t’ noon train you could be back i’ t’ -morning, or maybe to-night.” - -“Very well,” said Inman; “but don’t expect me before morning. These are -jobs that can’t be hurried, and a bit of time lost is neither here nor -there.” - -The glamour of spring sunlight was on the landscape as Inman set out -upon his six-mile tramp to the station, and even the grey hills looked -warm and hospitable, whilst the meadows of the low-lands were a mosaic -of rich greens of varied shade. Signs of new and joyous life were -everywhere. Yellow celandines and dandelions caught the sunshine on -their outspread petals and sparkled in the shadows of the dry walls and -river banks. Nor was the eye the only recipient of April’s gifts, for -the sweet scents that Nature had released at the coming of spring -greeted another sense; the delicate odours of budding trees and the good -smell of newly-turned earth. And with all these bounties another equally -good—a brave, bracing wind from the heights, sharp and sweet, charged -with the power to stimulate and purify. It was a day to make a man shout -aloud for very joy of being alive. - -But let Nature do her utmost—spread her glories like a peacock,—a -man’s thoughts may curtain his senses and stifle every emotion except -that which is uppermost, so that the hills may clap their hands never so -loudly and he will be deaf as the dead to their music. Inman’s thoughts -were not of yellow sunlight but of yellow gold; and though he was -devising traps as he walked along the road with his eyes on the ground, -they were certainly not intended to catch sunbeams. Beyond the curt -statement that he was going to Airlee on the firm’s business he had -given his wife no explanation of his journey; but it was Nancy’s -interests that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of all others, for -Nancy’s interests were now his. Baldwin might go to the devil for all he -cared; and if a push of his foot could speed him there it should be -given with great goodwill, provided always he did not lose his own -balance in the act, and that the kick should be from behind. A finer -ambassador than Inman could not have been found in all the empire if -Baldwin’s object was to save the throne regardless of who should occupy -it. “All for my-sen!” A smile flitted across the man’s hard face as the -thought occurred to him. - - * * * * * - -Soon after six o’clock that evening Nancy visited the Cove for the first -time since the fatal quarrel with Jagger. She had thought she would -never see the place again with pleasure—there had been one hour of -bitter repentance when she had vowed that the scene of her folly should -have no existence for her in the future—but she was surprised to find -her heart warm as she looked upon the great crag and saw the jackdaws -wheeling about in the neighbourhood of their nests. The sun would not -set for another hour, but its couch was behind the mountains and Mawm -would see it no more until the morrow, yet there was a wash of amber on -the limestone, and the rock looked genial and friendly. There was -something soul-stirring and at the same time strangely soothing in the -contemplation of the ponderous cliff that faced unmoved the most violent -storms and all the vicissitudes of the years. Cold as it was Nancy sat -down on a rock beside the stream, and the rippling water, murmuring like -an infant on its mother’s lap, turned her thoughts in another direction -and brought the hot blush to her cheeks. - -Raising her eyes she became conscious that a man was descending the -lower slope a hundred yards away, and her face lost its colour as she -recognised Jagger, and saw that she was unobserved. She was not afraid -to encounter him, though they had not met in privacy before since her -marriage, and had exchanged scarcely a dozen words; rather, her senses -were numbed and she watched him incuriously, as if he had been a bird -that had dropped down to the river to drink; and when she saw him bend -his head and stand motionless, though she knew what his thoughts must -be, no emotion of pity or contempt disturbed her, and she experienced no -desire to steal away and escape his notice. Her feelings were turned to -stone, like the man who stood as rigid as the boulders at his feet. - -Even when he wheeled round and came towards her with his eyes still on -the ground; when she knew that she must inevitably be discovered, her -pulse beat no more quickly; but when he brushed against her dress, and -uttered a startled exclamation of recognition as his eyes leaped to her -face she smiled. - -“I’ve been watching you this last five minutes,” she said in a calm -voice, but with the weary intonation of a care-worn woman. - -He was much more at a loss for words than she, yet he recovered his -self-possession in a moment. - -“I’ve never been here since that day,” he began; and the girl nodded. - -“Nor me, neither,” she said; “but I’m glad I came.” - -“Are you? I was wondering if I hadn’t better have stayed away; if I -hadn’t better cross t’ Cove off t’ map and have done with it. It hurts, -Nancy! It’ll always hurt!” - -“Hurts!” she answered with an emphasis of mockery. “Your hurt is just an -empty place, a bit of an ache, same as when you’ve fasted too long. _My_ -hurt is a serpent ’at I’ve taken of my own free will and pressed to my -bosom, and it bites deeper every day.” - -The despair in her voice moved him strongly but hardly more than her -calmness. There was no flash in her spirit; but there was strength and a -certain stern attractiveness, as there is in the bog; and his heart -ached with a sore longing. - -“He isn’t unkind to you, is he?” he forced himself to ask, and she -laughed contemptuously. - -“Unkind? What is it to be unkind?” She looked down contemplatively, as -if the question interested her. “Is he unkind?” she repeated in a low -voice. “I never thought of that. He doesn’t beat me, if that’s what you -mean, except now and again with his tongue and his looks; and two can -play at that game.” - -“Beat you!” The man’s lips tightened and he spoke through his teeth; “t’ -first time ’at I hear ’at he’s laid hands on you I’ll do him in! Beat -you! Devil as he is he isn’t black-hearted enough for that!” - -“I don’t know that he is a devil,” she replied listlessly; “but he knows -how to raise one, and he’s so cold and sure of himself that he makes me -scream inside, though he’s never heard me and never will. I’m afraid of -him; but he doesn’t know it, and I’m not whining; I’m just telling you -how I feel. I’m like a baby in his hands. He’s a man who gets what he -wants _always_. He wanted my money so he took me, same as you must take -t’ purse with what’s inside it. And he perhaps wanted a woman, too, and -one’s as good as another to such as him.” - -“And now he shoves you on one side; makes dirt of you,” said Jagger -bitterly. “Can’t I see it in his face? And he’ll take a pride in doing -it, and more by half if he thinks it ’ud hurt me, and that you’d care. -But that’s more’n I ought to have said.” - -“More than I ought to let you say,” she replied, “but for this once you -shall say what you like and that must end it. It was here we fell out, -and it’s here I’ll tell you that I know it was my fault. I meant to make -it up with you; I’d thought about nothing else for hours on end; but -there’s something—I don’t know what it is, if it isn’t fate—that pulls -one way when we pull another, and pulls harder than us. And then I was -mad with you because you took me at my word; and _he_ came along and I -married him whilst I was sore—married him at a Registry; no service or -anything.” - -He had never taken his eyes from her face; never sought to interrupt her -during this recital. One foot he had raised and placed on the rock where -she was sitting; and pity softened the deep lines on his forehead as the -evening light mellows the harsh brows of Gordel. - -“Nay, Nancy,” he said sorrowfully; and at the sound of her name, or -perhaps at the tender note in his voice, the blood surged to her face -again; “you mustn’t blame yourself, or anyway you mustn’t take all the -blame. Father warned me, but I was too big a fool to heed him. I came -that afternoon on purpose to make friends wi’ you, and it wasn’t fate -but just hot temper ’at ruined all. It’s changed my nature, Nancy. When -father brought word ’at you were married something fell like a -thunderbolt i’ my head and has rested on my heart ever since; but I’m a -different man—whether I’m better or worse I don’t fairly know.” - -“Yes, you’re changed,” she said, “and so am I; but the thunderbolt that -fells one tree lets more air in for that next to it. It’s me that’s -crushed, not you. You’ll make your way, I can see, for this mishap has -put ginger into you, and I shall be glad to see you get on. But James’ll -move heaven and earth to ruin you: there’s naught so sure as that; and -he’s a cleverer headpiece than you, Jagger.” - -“He can soon have that,” said Jagger with a new note of modesty that was -entirely free from sulkiness; “but he’s welcome to do his worst as far -as I’m concerned. What’s it matter to me what he does? When we opened t’ -new shop I was all for making money; but I’ve learned a hard lesson -since then, and I know now ’at money can’t buy t’ best things. I don’t -care whether we get on or we don’t so long as we can pay our way, and -there’s little fear o’ that; but work’s life, and good work’s -luxury—all t’ luxury I care about now, and Inman can’t ruin a man ’at -builds on them foundations.” - -“He’ll try to,” she answered. - -“Let him try!” he answered. “He can shove as he likes but he’ll never -shift t’ Cove—there’s some things too strong even for him. I’m on t’ -old man’s side, Nancy, though I’m only a watcher. It’s a game between -God and t’ devil; and as long as my father lives I’ll back ’at Inman -doesn’t come out on top. Anyway, I’m walking t’ straight road, and he’s -welcome to do his worst.” - -“You sound like Hannah!” - -She looked up as she spoke, and the sorrow he saw in her eyes—a sorrow -shot through with yearning and pain—stabbed him to the heart and caused -him to lose control. Before she could guess his purpose he had stooped -and kissed her on the lips, and for a moment or two she yielded without -protest. The next she rose to her feet and pushed him gently away. - -“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “If he knew he’d kill you; but -whether he knows or he doesn’t it isn’t walking t’ straight road that -you talk about. But it’s the first and last time, and there’s been -nobody to see and tell tales, so there’s no harm done. Only, never -again, remember! I’m his wife, and I’ll be no other man’s sweetheart.” - -He bent his head at the rebuke; and she brightened as love and pity -stirred in her heart at the sight of his face. - -“Tell your father I miss him, Jagger; and grannie too. I could like to -call in and see ’em; but it wouldn’t do. There’s no man’s word has the -same weight with me as your father’s, and you can tell him I took his -advice and bought stock with most o’ the money I had with Uncle John. -Baldwin doesn’t know because uncle made me promise not to tell him. It -was easier than I’d thought on to get round uncle, but I’ve always been -able to manage him better’n most folks, and he’s paid me out bit by bit -until I haven’t above five hundred with him now, and I’m letting that -stop.” - -“Father’s never said aught o’ this to me,” said Jagger. “Was he uneasy -about the money, or what?” - -“Not that I know of; but he knew I was. I can’t tell how it is; but I’ve -never been quite comfortable about Uncle John myself. There seems to be -money enough, and yet he always looks worried.” - -“It’s a funny thing,” said Jagger, “’at them ’at have too much seem as -badly worried as them ’at have too little. I’ll tell father what you -say.” - -“And Jagger! Ask Hannah to come to see me, I know she’ll scorn me; but -she’s a good heart and when she knows mine’s nearly broken she’ll not -bear malice. Tell her I want a friend and I haven’t one.” - -“Yes, you have,” he said, “you’ve _that_, anyway!” - -“Poor Jagger!” she replied in a low voice. “What a mess we’ve made of -it! I’m going now. Don’t follow till I’m out of sight.” - -She turned away as she spoke and walked quickly up the hill with the -darkness gathering around her, and never once looked back. When she had -passed through the gate on to the road Jagger also moved away, but in -the other direction. Until his form mingled with the shadows on the -hillside there was silence in the glen; then a young girl rose -cautiously on the farther side of the wall and looked round before she -sought the path Nancy had taken. - -It was Polly Marsden—Swithin’s granddaughter who had been there all the -time, disappointed of the company she had expected. - -“It wasn’t my fault if I heard ’em,” she said to herself, perhaps to -quieten the too rapid beating of her heart. “What are ears for if not to -hear with?” - - - CHAPTER XIII - - IN WHICH INMAN PROVES HIMSELF COMPETENT - -NANCY’S mood alternated between a strange sense of peacefulness and -extreme depression all that evening. Cold as it was she shut herself up -in the parlour, away from Baldwin’s snappy ill-temper and Keturah’s -tearful peevishness, and busied herself with that kind of sewing which -raises in the breast of most young wives a tumult of hopes and fears. At -intervals she let the little garment fall to her knee, and gazed long -and steadily at the window, as if in the pale light that was upon the -hills she would find healing for her soul’s sores. How often she had -climbed old Cawden by moonlight in Jagger’s company! She had never -doubted that they would one day marry and live happily together; it had -seemed as inevitable as that Gordale beck should merge its waters with -the stream that flowed from the Cove, and when memory reproduced the -vivid pictures of the past, flooding the shadows with excess of light, -her spirits became tranquillised and she would smile. - -But an anodyne is not a cure; and when her eyes fell to her lap and her -fingers took up again the work on which she was engaged, bitterness -returned to her heart, and the weary way that stretched its interminable -length before her was sunless as the Psalmist’s shadowed valley. -Yet—Jagger loved her still, and she——! - -Nancy merely skirted the borders of that forbidden ground, but to peep -into a paradise that is closed to us is to invite a vision of hell, and -the periods of depression grew longer and more painful, until she could -endure the parlour no longer, and attributing to her head the ache that -was at her heart, went early and supperless to bed. - -It was not yet dark, and through her window she could see a couple of -curlews wheeling in the air; their wild cries rang pleasantly in her -ears; their free, erratic movements interested and amused her, now that -sleep refused its office. She felt a sense of oneness with them and with -the wild, untameable moor on which they rested, and she gave fancy its -fling and let it sweep or hover where it would! She cherished no hopes, -dreamed no false dreams; but between sleeping and waking dropped a -curtain on the sombre present and walked in the sunlit past. - -She was still dozing, still ruminating, when the clock downstairs struck -one, and the sound had hardly died away when a handful of gravel was -thrown against the window. Instantly she was out of bed. It was by this -time very dark but she went confidently forward and put out her hand, -conscious as she did so that one of her bare feet had been cut by a -sharp fragment of spar. A voice from below that she recognised as her -husband’s bade her steal down silently and open the door. - -“Don’t bring a light,” he whispered. “They mustn’t see me; and take care -how you draw back the bolts.” - -She made no reply but fumbled for her slippers and dressing-gown and put -them on. Why there should be all this need of secrecy she never asked -herself; but she walked quietly and trapped her finger in trying to -steady the big bolt as she drew it back—it was rusty and not easy to -move. - -“Shove this under the bed,” he said in a low voice as he pushed a small -cigar box into her hands; “I’ll follow you in a minute when I’ve locked -up.” - -Without a word she obeyed, and not until he joined her and lit the -candle, having first drawn down the blind, did she open her lips. - -“I didn’t expect you to-night,” she said. - -“I’ve walked from Keepton,” he replied. “I’m dead beat. It isn’t that -the box is over heavy, though there’s five hundred pounds in gold there. -Baldwin mustn’t know a word about it—nobody must. It’s yours. Your -Uncle——” - -He stopped, and Nancy saw that his face was grey and his breath coming -in deep heaves. - -“Wait a minute,” she said. “The whisky-bottle’s in the sideboard. I’ll -get you a drop.” - -She took the tumbler, and stole downstairs again, whilst Inman bent his -head between his knees. In a minute or two she was back with the drink, -and she locked the door behind her. - -“That’s right,” said Inman when he had gulped the dose. “It’s a long -walk, and I hurried more than I need have done; but I like a woman who -keeps her head, and you’ll need to keep yours with that suspicious old -devil nosing round. I don’t mind him knowing I’ve got back—the old -fool’ll think I’ve rushed home to please him, but he mustn’t smoke the -swag or the game’s up; he’s a scent for brass like a terrier for rats.” - -Nancy was listening quite unmoved. Her foot and her finger were causing -her pain; but she paid them no heed for her eyes were on her husband and -she was trying to surmise what deep game he was playing. - -“You’d better tell me all about it,” she said with a coldness he either -did not notice or chose to ignore. - -“So I will,” he replied, “but first, is there anywhere that we can lock -up that box—any place Keturah doesn’t get her fingers in?” - -She shook her head; then bethought herself. “What about that old -portmanteau of yours. It’s on the top o’ the closet. Doesn’t it lock?” - -“The very thing!” he exclaimed; and he climbed up and brought it down. -Then, having fitted a key to it from a bunch he took from his pocket, he -put the box inside and returned it to its place. - -“That’s better!” he said in a tone of relief. “It’s safe there till we -get it away, bit by bit.” - -Still Nancy said nothing, but the look of inquiry in her eyes was not -unmixed with suspicion, and Inman laughed. - -“Your face is a picture, Nancy. Afraid I’ve turned highwayman, I -suppose? You needn’t worry; there’s nobody after me, not even Uncle -John. Get into bed, child; you’re shivering!” - -She was too proud to examine the wound on her foot; too much afraid that -he should think she was inviting his sympathy. She therefore drew on her -stockings with the muttered explanation that her feet were like ice, and -returned to bed. - -Five minutes later Inman unfolded his story. - -“The old boy’s pretty well on his last legs, or I’m no judge. What ails -him? Oh, his health’s all right; don’t you trouble your head about -that—in fact, don’t trouble it about anything whilst you have me to -look after you. It’s Uncle John’s business, not his body, that’s -tottering. He’s had a jolly good run for his money; but the weasels are -after him now, and they’ll have their teeth in his neck before three -months are up, mark my words!” - -Nancy’s heart sank. Uncle John had always been too absorbed in his -account books to have time to spare for strengthening family ties,—a -duty which he would have regarded, if he had ever given it a moment’s -thought, as falling within the province of his wife and daughter; but he -had been kind in his own off-hand way, and he was her father’s brother; -it was impossible to view his impending ruin with unconcern. Moreover, -her husband’s jaunty, well-satisfied tone grated on her ears. - -“He’s sailed as near the wind as any man I’ve ever known, this last ten -years,” continued Inman, with a change of voice that was as noticeable -as the change of metaphor. “The cutest old money-grubber in Airlee, bar -none. A man who kept his conscience in his pew at church alongside his -Prayer Book, and never missed it when he sat at his desk. If there’s -been one man more than another that I’ve looked up to it’s been John -Clegg. But he’s gone on too fast and too far—that’s where your uncle’s -made his mistake. If he’d sold out five years since—but then a man like -him couldn’t stop, no more’n an engine that’s jammed its brakes and is -running at full steam.” - -“I don’t suppose you can imagine that all this is very agreeable to me,” -interposed Nancy wearily. “If Uncle John is ruined a good many other -people must be ruined with him; and poor Aunt Ann and Jennie——” - -Inman gave a short sneering laugh. - -“You needn’t lose any sleep over your Aunt Ann and Jennie. A man who’ll -provide for his loving niece’ll have a little nest egg hidden away -somewhere for self and family, you bet. Your uncle’s no fool, my lass! -Not that he got on his knees exactly, to ask me to bring your bit away. -He’d have given you a three months’ bill or something o’ that sort if -yours truly had been willing, but that wheeze didn’t work. To tell you -the truth there was a time when I’d hold the stick over him; but when he -saw he’d met his match he turned quite pleasant, and we parted the best -o’ friends.” - -“And you’ve brought all my money back with you?” Nancy asked. - -“If I’d dropped it in the river you couldn’t talk grumpier,” Inman -replied coldly “This is what I get for grabbing five hundred pounds out -o’ the ruins!” - -“Nay, I’m glad enough it’s saved, if what you say is true,” Nancy said; -but still without enthusiasm. “Was that what you went for? and—what -about Baldwin?” - -The thought of his participation in the looked-for catastrophe had been -slow to reach her, as the startled note in her voice evidenced. Inman -laughed and lowered his voice still more. - -“Yes, that’s what I went for; but Baldwin mustn’t guess it. He thinks, -and he’s got to go on thinking, that I went to pull _his_ chestnuts out -o’ the fire; but he’ll have to be satisfied with fair words and -promises. He’ll be pleased, you’ll see, with what I’ve done; or, anyway, -_I_ shall see it, for he’ll none talk about it till we get into the -office—but——” - -He said no more, and Nancy could not see the smile that curved about his -lips: the grim smile of the fisherman who feels the line jerk and is -confident that the hook has held. - -“But what——?” inquired Nancy. - -“I was thinking what a good motto that of his is—‘all for my-sen’”; -said her husband grimly. - -“What do you think will happen to Uncle John?” Nancy inquired. “I can’t -help being anxious about him. He’s always treated me well, and you too.” - -“Oh, he may pull through,” he replied indifferently. “There’s a -thousand-to-one-chance, of course; and if he doesn’t I suppose he’ll -make an arrangement with his creditors; they’re mostly widows and simple -sort o’ folks with no fight in ’em, poor devils; folks that snapped at -seven per cent. interest and asked no questions. Your uncle’ll be right -enough. Let’s drop him now, and get to sleep; but remember you don’t -know anything; _not anything_, if they try to pump you.” - -He turned over on his side and was breathing heavily in a few minutes; -but Nancy lay awake for another hour at least, weighing the situation -and balancing her love of money with sympathy for her aunt and cousin, -and compassion for the poor investors who were to lose their savings. - -“My bit ’ud only be a drop in a bucket, anyhow,” she said to herself; -and found some ease in the reflection; “I wonder what Maniwel ’ud think -of it—and Jagger?” - -At breakfast Baldwin could not conceal his satisfaction at Inman’s -prompt return; but muttered that what had to be said would keep, and -went on with his meal, stealing a glance at his foreman’s face when he -thought himself unobserved, as if he would read there the result of his -mission. Inman, however, gave nothing away, though he followed promptly -when his master rose and left the kitchen. - -“Well?” said Baldwin in the aggressive tone anxiety always put into his -voice, when the office door closed upon them; “Have you wasted your -journey, or were you as clever as you made out you’d be? Has he climbed -down, or what?” - -His eyebrows stood out fiercely; but there was fear at the man’s heart, -and Inman knew it and was pleased. - -“I don’t think it’s been altogether wasted,” he replied with studied -hesitation, “though I could have liked to come back with an easier -mind——” - -“Be hanged to your easier mind!” spluttered Baldwin. “Is he going to let -us have t’ brass, or isn’t he?—that’s t’ question I want answering. Are -we to be shamed wi’ wer creditors, or aren’t we? I’ve no time to stand -here while you’re raking your mind ower to find fine words.” - -Inman looked at him steadily but gave no other sign of impatience. - -“I think he’ll let you have the money,” he said calmly. “He’ll do his -level best, anyway, and he’s promised not to pay Drakes or anyone till -you’ve had what you want.” - -“That’s what I’m waiting to get at,” growled Baldwin; “only I don’t like -that word ‘think.’ If I’d ha’ gone I’d ha’ known; I wouldn’t ha’ -thought; and John ’ud ha’ heard a piece o’ my mind into t’ bargain.” - -“I was man, not master,” Inman explained, “that was why I should have -liked it better if you’d gone yourself. I said all I dare say, seeing -that I wasn’t boss; and I’d all my work cut out, I can tell you, to get -him to promise.” - -“It was a try-on, that’s what it was!” Angry as Baldwin showed himself -there was a note of relief in his voice, and Inman knew that his -master’s greatest care now was to conceal his satisfaction. “He can’t -bear to part. T’ more he has and t’ more he wants,—the selfish devil. -That’s one good thing you’ve worked anyway. I’ll bet he won’t try t’ -same game on wi’ me again for a long time. There’s naught like letting -’em see ’at you can put your foot down.” - -Inman made no comment, but looked steadily at his boots. He was skilled -in all the cunning of face language; and though Baldwin had little of -that lore he would have been a fool if he had not realised that his -ambassador was holding something back. - -“You look glum enough for a burying, spite o’ all your cleverness wi’ -John,” he sneered. “What ails you?” - -Inman appeared to rouse himself; but he spoke with unusual hesitation. - -“Nay, it’s naught but an uneasy feeling.... It isn’t that there’s -exactly aught to go by; but....” - -“But what? Get it out, man, can’t you? The devil take you and your -uneasy feelings! John Clegg’s safe as t’ Bank of England, I tell you. If -he doesn’t die worth his hundred-thousand I’m no prophet; and he’ll ha’ -scraped it up wi’ a bit o’ interest here and a bit there, where mugs -have been silly enough to let him, to say naught of his money-lending, -and he won’t ha’ worked _that_ at a loss, no fear.” - -Inman allowed a look of relief to creep into his expression, and a more -hopeful tone sounded in his voice as he said: - -“Well, certainly he ought to have made money and I always reckoned him -to be very well off—not a hundred-thousand man, maybe; I wouldn’t have -gone so far; but comfortable. It was just that I didn’t altogether like -the look of things; and if he isn’t badly worried he’s a good -play-actor. But you’re likely to know better’n me; and as I’ve naught -fairly to go by, no more’n what I’ve told you, we can leave it at that.” - -Baldwin frowned; and a smile developed in Inman’s eyes as he removed his -coat and walked over to the bench where his work awaited him. He had -dropped his seed carefully—a seed of suggestion, of suspicion, that was -sure to germinate and torment his master’s soul as it grew; but he had -not committed himself, and if events should shape badly, as was -inevitable, he would always be able to claim that his mouth had been -stopped by his master. Which was just what he had intended. - -After dinner Baldwin took Inman aside out of earshot of the other men -who were lounging about, waiting for the hour to strike. - -“What did John say about Maniwel?” he asked. “Are you sure they’ll not -get their brass when t’ time comes?” - -“I’m certain of it,” Inman replied confidently. “They wouldn’t have got -it in any case, if his word’s to be trusted; but they’d very likely have -had part—something to be going on with. I spiked that gun, if I did -naught else, and Drake’ll have to whistle for his money.” - -“But what did he say about ’em starting up in opposition to Nancy, as -you may say?” persisted Baldwin. - -“He didn’t speak for a while, but just tapped his desk, and then he said -a curious thing,” Inman replied with his eyes on his master’s face. “He -said, ‘Well, he’s a right to start for himself if he wants, I reckon, -and I’ve a notion that he’ll get on. I never thought myself that our Tom -treated him fairly, and when a man bides his time and goes straight I’ve -noticed he often gets the upper hand at the finish. He’ll perhaps sell -Baldwin a pennorth yet.’ That’s pretty nearly word for word what he -said.” - -The older man’s face was a picture during this recital, and his eyes -blazed as he turned to Inman, whose own features were almost -expressionless. - -“Sell me a pennorth, will he? And John Clegg could bring his-self to say -that again’ a man ’at has his thousands wi’ him! I’ll give him six -months notice to pay back every blessed ha’penny! I’ll see him rot afore -he shall have my brass to lend to Maniwel Drake to set him on his feet. -As like as not that’s what he is doing. And to have it thrown i’ one’s -face ’at Maniwel wasn’t treated fair! I must say you’ve got it off very -glib, young man, and’ll have turned it over i’ your mouth like a’ acid -drop, I don’t doubt——” - -“Mr. Briggs,” Inman interrupted quickly. “I’m Nancy’s husband, and you -don’t need to be told I’m no friend of Drake’s. It’s a poor return for -what I did yesterday to be bullyragged same as if I was your enemy.” - -“Well, well,” said Baldwin with an impatient toss of the head; “it’s -enough to make any man talk a bit wild. You’d better blow t’ whistle. -It’s gone one!” - - - CHAPTER XIV - - IN WHICH JOHN CLEGG IS “WANTED” AND MANIWEL ISN’T - -IT was exactly a month later, towards the end of the merry month of -May and within a week of Baldwin’s pay-day that news reached Mawm that -John Clegg was “wanted” by the police. No merrier day had been known -that year. Before the cocks awoke to their trumpeting a cuckoo had -proclaimed the dawn, and had continued to obtrude its strange call upon -the air that vibrated all day with the music of more melodious -songsters. Curlews, black-headed gulls and lapwings, wheeling and crying -as they felt the sweep of the mountain breeze, had brought life and -action to the desolate moors, where the pink flowers of the bilberry -washed whole tracts with sunset tints that deepened as the day advanced. -One or two swallows had been seen above the river when the sun was -hottest, but had soon flown south again leaving behind them the hope of -summer. On every hand such stunted trees as the uplands could boast were -either thick with foliage or at least bursting into leaf, and the -meadows and pastures were spangled with gay spring flowers. The merry -day had ended merrily; and when the sun went down to his couch in the -west he flung his rich trappings to the sky which let them fall upon the -mountain tops, where they lay until night cast her shadows over them. - -No man from his well-padded seat in the theatre ever watched the play -with keener enjoyment than Maniwel this entertainment of Nature’s -providing, though his chair was the hard stone parapet of the bridge -beside his cottage. All through the day his soul had responded to the -call of spring, to the warm grasp of the sun. The somewhat melancholy -chanting of the moor birds had quickened his pulse; had stirred up -memories of youth and youth’s ambitions; and he had discussed the future -with Jagger in a spirit of breezy optimism that had fired the younger -man. In another week their little capital would be in their own -hands—it was not so very little after all for people in a small way. -With one or two necessary machines and a supply of loose cash they would -soon get into their stride, after which it was just a question of -steadiness and hard, good work. - -Maniwel had dismissed business from his thoughts, as a man must who -would enjoy the play, and was feasting his senses on the scene before -him when a motor-car, easily recognisable as the squire’s, sped up the -road from the valley, and a hand beckoned him to approach. - -Maniwel obeyed the summons and was greeted by Mr. Harris in a voice that -was lowered so that the chauffeur would not hear. - -“I say, Drake; hasn’t Nancy Clegg an Uncle John of that name in Airlee?” - -“She has, sir,” he replied. “John and Tom were brothers, you’ll -remember; and it’s John he always banked with, same as Baldwin does to -this day.” - -Mr. Harris looked with grave eyes into the other’s face. - -“I’m afraid it’s a bad look-out, in that case, for Briggs,” he said; -“and I suppose for Nancy, too. John Clegg has absconded, and the police -have possession of his office!” - -He put the evening paper into Maniwel’s hand as he spoke; but the joiner -thrust it into his pocket without looking at it; and though his face -expressed concern it remained calm. - -“Dear! dear! that’s a bad job, that is,” he said. “I’m thinking Nancy’ll -be hard hit, poor lass, not so much by t’ loss of her money as by t’ -disgrace ’at’ll come to t’ name. It’ll be a sad blow for Baldwin. You -weren’t thinking of calling and telling him t’ news, were you, sir?” - -The squire smiled. “I’m not one to play on the hole of the asp, Drake,” -he said. “I don’t envy the lot of the man who tells Briggs. If you keep -it quiet it’s not likely that anyone else will hear of it, and to-morrow -morning’s paper will be the best messenger.” - -Maniwel’s face showed that he was thinking deeply. “I’m not worried -about Nancy,” he said. “I believe it isn’t a vast deal ’at she’ll have -left wi’ her uncle; but Baldwin——! It’ll be like to crush him, will -this; and to come on him all of a sudden——!” - -He looked into the squire’s eyes; but Mr. Harris remained silent, and -Maniwel continued: - -“I doubt if he’s a friend i’ t’ village. There was a time when I -wouldn’t ha’ thought twice about going; but now he’d happen look at it -in a wrong light. All t’ same if there’s no other way I think it ’ud -only be neighbourly to step across and soften t’ news a bit.” - -“As you like, Drake,” replied the squire as he tucked the rug about his -knees. “I think myself you’ll be seeking trouble instead of softening -it. But I admire your spirit, and if you had been in Briggs’ place I -should have reminded you of the saying of the old Roman—‘Fortune can -take away riches but not courage.’ I’m afraid it would be lost on -Briggs.” - -“Thank you, sir,” said Maniwel; “Jagger and me’ll maybe need to remember -it, for we’d a little matter of three hundred pounds wi’ him ourselves -’at we were expecting to draw t’ first o’ next month. But that’s neither -here nor there. T’ loss of it is bad to bide; but it leaves us just -where we were, you see, whereas wi’ Baldwin it means all t’ difference -i’ t’ world.” - -The squire held out his hand and grasped Maniwel’s. - -“I’m sorry, Drake, very sorry——” He seemed about to say more but -checked himself. “Tell Jagger to keep his heart up! I don’t need to tell -you.” - -“Thank you, sir,” said the other smiling. “I’ll match my Jew again’ your -Roman—‘Be of good cheer!’ He said when they were distressed by t’ -waves; and t’ boat got safe to land, you’ll recollect. I shall lose no -sleep over t’ job.” - -The squire pressed his hand again and the car moved rapidly away, whilst -Maniwel went indoors to make himself acquainted with the story of the -disaster. - -When he had read the columns twice over he sought his son. Jagger was -still working in the shop where the light was dim, and he scarcely -raised his head when his father entered. - -“There’s bad news, lad!” said Maniwel abruptly; “—news you’d never -guess.” - -“Nought to do wi’ John Clegg, has it?” asked Jagger, straightening -himself from the bench. - -“That’s a good shot, lad! He’s run away; cleared off wi’ every penny he -could lay his hands on! I thank God from my heart ’at you an’ me hasn’t -a sin o’ that sort on our souls. There’s hundreds ruined, according to -t’ paper.” - -Jagger had not moved. His hands still grasped the plane where his eyes -also rested. - -“It’s naught but what I’ve expected,” he said in a hard voice. “I’ve -dreamt night after night ’at t’ money was lost, and someway I’ve never -built on it. We lose fifteen pound a year interest, and we’re where we -were before—on t’ Street called Straight.” - -It was almost a sneer; but it was instantly atoned for, and with a quick -glance at his father’s face he went on: - -“Nay, I’ll say naught about it. T’ devil’s won that trick, but t’ game -isn’t finished yet. I care naught about t’ money now ’at Nancy’s——” - -He stopped as comprehension widened, and a new light came into his eyes. - -“By Jove, it’s worth it! I never thought about Baldwin! T’ devil’s -trumped after all, for Baldwin’ll be floored. I’d ha’ paid three hundred -pounds wi’ pleasure to ha’ floored Baldwin!” - -He chuckled with satisfaction, but the smile faded when he caught sight -of his father’s face. - -“Jagger!” said Maniwel almost sternly. “I’m sorry to hear a son o’ mine -talk like a child o’ the devil. ‘Satan hath desired to have thee, that -he may sift thee like wheat.’ But you’re a beginner, and you’ve a deal -to learn. If Baldwin was to fall down Gordel and break his leg you’d -none let him lie to crawl home by himself; and I’m off there now to talk -things over wi’ him, if so be as he’ll let me.” - -“You are?” said Jagger, with closed teeth. - -“I’m off there now,” repeated his father. - -“Then there’s no more to be said”; and Jagger turned to his work. - -Keturah had just lit the lamp when Maniwel knocked at the door and -raised the latch in the familiar fashion of the country. Baldwin was -sitting by the hearth smoking the one pipe in which he indulged himself -of an evening. His eyebrows met in a scowl as he recognised his visitor -and the tone in which he bade him enter was anything but cordial. - -“It’s thee, is it? It’s long since tha was i’ this house afore.” - -Involuntarily his speech broadened into the homelier dialect which both -men had used to employ with each other in former days, and Maniwel -followed suit. - -“Aye,” he replied, “and I don’t know ’at I durst ha’ come, Baldwin, if -it hadn’t been ’at I wor thrussen. But it’s a saying ’at trouble makes -strange bedmates, and there’s trouble for both on us, lad. I’ one way -happen it’s worse for me nor what it is for thee, for I stand to lose -all I’ve saved; but I’m flayed tha’ll find it harder to bide, for tha -drops from a bigger height.” - -Whilst Maniwel was speaking a grey shade had spread over Baldwin’s face, -though it was the tone in which the words were spoken rather than the -words themselves that sent a chill to his heart. The scowl left his brow -and his eyes widened, like the mouth that no longer offered its -hospitality to the long, black clay, and he was dumb; unable to swear at -the intruder or to bid him quicken his explanation—dumb with a -foreboding that left him sick and helpless in the presence of his enemy. - -“It’s all in t’ _Evening Post_,” Maniwel went on. He had not seated -himself, but leaned against the dresser as if his stay was likely to be -short; and Keturah was too concerned at the sight of her brother to -remember the duties of hostess—“John Clegg’s made off, taking all wi’ -him, and there’s a warrant out for his arrest——” - -The cold statement of fact broke the spell like the touch of a fairy’s -wand, and Baldwin jumped to his feet and snatched the paper from -Maniwel’s hand. - -“Tha’rt a liar!” he shouted. “—— tha for bringing thy black lies into -my house! I won’t believe it if I see it i’ print——!” He was tearing -the paper open as he spoke and his eyes fell at once upon the record -that ran in heavy type across two columns. - - “WELL-KNOWN MONEY-LENDER ABSCONDS! - IMMENSE LIABILITIES” - -It was enough. The name of John Clegg met his gaze on the first line and -he threw the paper from him and sank back into his chair with a groan. -Keturah’s apron was to her eyes and she was weeping volubly when the -door of the parlour opened and Nancy appeared. - -Before she had time to speak Baldwin turned round and vented his wrath -upon her. - -“Curse you and all your —— lot!” he said savagely. “Thieves and -robbers, that’s what you are! You might well pay your brass into t’ -bank, you sly ratten—when you knew your uncle was naught no better nor -a pick-purse. Honour among thieves! I don’t doubt but what he warned -you, —— him....” - -Keturah had sunk into a chair and was holding her apron to her ears in -the usual way, but Nancy turned her white face away from the angry man -and moved towards the table where the paper was lying. All the time a -torrent of coarse abuse which nobody heeded was pouring from Baldwin’s -lips. - -Maniwel laid his hand on the paper. - -“Wait a minute, lass,” he said kindly. “There’s news there ’at’ll cut -you like a knife. Your uncle John’s missing, and things look black -again’ him there’s no denying. But it’ll happen all turn out better than -like, and anyway it’s not for us to judge him over hard ’at doesn’t know -all. There’s One above ’at’ll judge both him and us.” - -“And you’ve lost all?” she said calmly, though her hands shook and her -face was colourless. - -“We shall see,” he replied soothingly. “It’s early days yet to talk -about ‘all’. That’s what I want to say to Baldwin.” He turned his head -in the direction of the fireplace again. “We’ve got to keep up wer -hearts and wer heads, and see ’at we make t’ best of a bad job. There’ll -be summat left to share out, surely.” - -Another volley of coarse abuse from Baldwin was the only reply he -received. Nancy was reading the report,—steadily—but with mouth firmly -closed; and Keturah had covered her head and was rocking her chair, -consoling herself with groans. Maniwel went over to the hearth where -Baldwin’s feet were on the ruins of his pipe. - -“What a man says in his temper is easy forgi’en, Baldwin,” he said. His -eyes were almost woman-like in their tenderness, but the firmness in the -voice was that of a man and a strong man. “It’s bound to be a sad blow -for tha, but t’ ship isn’t allus wrecked when it strikes a rock, and if -there’s owt I can do to help tha tha’s nobbut to speak t’ word and we’ll -put wer heads together——” - -“If tha’ll be good enough to take thy-sen off, Maniwel Drake, tha’ll be -doing me t’ only service I ask of tha,” said Baldwin, his voice -trembling with the passion he was endeavouring to restrain. “Tha’s had -what tha come for—t’ pleasure o’ seeing me knocked off o’ my feet wi’ -t’ news tha brought; tha can get thee gone now and tell t’ funny tale to -Jagger. Put wer heads together, will we? Let me tell tha Baldwin -Briggs’s none done yet; and there’s a lad’ll put his head alongside mine -’at’s worth all t’ Drake fam’ly rolled into one. He seed this coming; -and if I’d ta’en a bit o’ notice tha’d happen ha’ had less ’casion to -make game o’ me.” - -“You’re out of your mind——” began Nancy hotly; and it was not the -anger that flashed into Baldwin’s eyes that stopped her; but the hand -Maniwel laid on her arm. - -“The lass is right,” he said sternly; “—tha’rt out o’ thy mind, or -tha’d shame to say such things to a man’s ’at’s wanted to be thi friend. -But it’s out o’ t’ abundance o’ t’ heart ’at t’ mouth speaks, and thi -heart’s so full o’ muck ’at no clean thought can get either in or out. -When a man walks crook’d he sees crook’d; and there’ll come a time when -tha’ll know what it is to lack a friend. If Nancy’s husband can help -tha, well and good; I’m glad on’t. If tha’s laid up treasure i’ any -man’s heart it’s more than tha’s ever done afore sin’ I knew tha—nay, -tha’s no ’casion to grind thi teeth; lame as I am I could throw tha on -t’ fire-back wi’ my one hand, but there’s better fuel i’ t’ bucket. I’m -going now; but I’ve one thing more to say t’ first. Tha’rt as miserable -a soul as ever drew breath, and if tha loses thi brass tha can’ scarce -be more miserable. Tha’s made it harder for me to offer tha help another -time; but what I call tha I call tha to thi face and not behind thi -back, and if tha finds ’at t’ stick tha’s trusting to fails tha, -remember tha’s still a friend i’ Maniwel Drake—tha hears me?” - -“I’ll see tha blaze before I’ll ask thy help!” Baldwin almost hissed. - -“Tha’s seen me blaze just now,” returned Maniwel calmly; “or anyway -tha’s heard t’ crackle. If a man doesn’t blaze i’ thi comp’ny it isn’t -for lack o’ kindling. I’m going now; but I’m sorry for tha from my soul, -and tha knows where to turn when tha comes to t’ far end.” - -He let his eyes rest for a moment on Baldwin who spat disgustedly into -the fire, and with a word of farewell to Nancy left the house. - -On his way home he met Inman returning from the inn. - -“I fancy you’re wanted,” he said pausing in his walk. “Baldwin’s i’ -trouble.” - -Inman raised his eyebrows, nodded, and sauntered on. - - - CHAPTER XV - - IN WHICH THE VILLAGERS DISCUSS THE DISASTER - -NEVER had an unfortunate business man more alert and resourceful -adviser than Baldwin found in Inman at this crisis. Promptly, yet with -no lessening of deference—nay, with a greater show of it—the mate -became captain of the ship and held the helm with a master’s hand. In -the inn and elsewhere Inman made light of the disaster. It was hard -luck, he admitted; but when a man had plenty left, and had always lived -and was content to live, as if he had nothing, there was no need to make -a fuss about the loss of a thousand or two. - -“It’s his heirs who may pull long faces,” he explained lightly; “and he -damns them with a good grace, and doesn’t seem quite to know who they -are.” - -Baldwin himself kept indoors, and only his workpeople saw his face and -heard his voice, and if both were a trifle sourer the difference was not -very marked. - -Inman, on the other hand, was friendlier and more approachable. He -walked with a lighter step, and whistled softly as he worked, to the -satisfaction of his master who looked upon these proceedings as a -deliberate act of policy on his astute subordinate’s part; and also of -the men, who appreciated anything that lightened and sweetened the -usually sultry atmosphere of the shop. There was another reason for the -master’s gratification, though it was one that was carefully hidden from -everybody else, in the circumstance that his foreman’s energies were -employed, and with apparently equal zeal, in two directions, one of -which was to save the business from wreckage and the other to ensure the -discomfiture of the Drakes. This latter object he pursued with an -ingenuity and relentless determination that seemed almost superhuman to -the slow-witted master, who never chuckled now except when news was -brought that another scheme for his competitors’ downfall had hatched -out successfully. - -“He’s nowt i’ my line, isn’t t’ lad,” said Swithin; “and never has been -from t’ first night when he stole Jagger’s job fro’ him; but one thing I -say and that I stand tul, ’at he’s turned out a rare friend for Baldwin -in his time o’ trouble.” - -“Mebbee, mebbee,” Ambrose’s thin voice broke in; and from the look on -the others’ faces it was evident the two disputants were having the -field to themselves. “A hungry dog is fain of a dirty pudden,’ as t’ -t’owd speyk puts it, and this young fella gives him summat he hasn’t wit -enough to get for his-sen. But when a man’s gifted same as I’ve been, -and partic’lar when he’s lived to my years, Swith’n there’s things he -can see wi’ his een shut; and I can see Baldwin harvestin’ trouble by t’ -peck ’at this young fella’s scattered for seeds o’ kindness.” - -The old man’s words carried conviction and Swithin himself felt their -force. - -“There’s no man can say I’m a friend to either on ’em, Ambrus, and I’m -not one to deny ’at you’ve t’ gift o’ seeing farther nor most folk——” - -“It wor born in me, Swithin, same as t’ talent to make verses,” broke in -Ambrose in a pleased voice. “They both run together, as you may say, and -I take no credit for’t.” - -“But I gie you credit for’t,” returned Swithin, stoutly, “and I don’t -match my-sen alongside o’ you, Ambrus; not for a minute, when it comes -to seeing what’s i’ folks’ minds. I’ve never ta’en to t’ lad, and I -shouldn’t wonder if there isn’t a deal o’ trewth i’ what you say. T’ -more I dwell on’t, and t’ less I like t’ lewk on’t, I will admit. They -say he’s lent Baldwin all his own brass to tide him over while he can -turn his-sen round; and if all’s to be believed ’at’s tell’d he got -Keturah to put her bit in when Baldwin couldn’t move her. Now you heard -what t’ lad said for his-sen that first night when he come into t’ bar -and crushed t’ life out o’ t’ spider: ‘there’s no mercy i’ Natur’’ he -said, ‘for the man what stands i’ t’ way o’ progress,’ I ask you if them -wasn’t his varry words; and now I’m asking my-sen, if he’s having mercy -on Baldwin, _what’s he doin’ it for_?” - -“Aye, and I’ll ask you something,” interposed the same young man who had -defied Inman to his face on one occasion;—“he’s got Baldwin to sell all -his property; turned every stick and stone into brass to save t’ -business, so they say; _but who’s bought all t’ property_? Now, can any -of you tell me that?” - -He looked round upon the faces of those whose eyes were turned -inquiringly towards him; but there was no answer to be read on any of -them. Only old Ambrose replied: - -“T’ farm our Robin leases wor bought in by some lawyer chap; but who he -was I can’t bethink me, though I seed it i’ t’ paper.” - -“Aye, we’ve all seen it i’ t’ paper,” Jack went on savagely; “t’ first -lot was bought by this lawyer from Airlee; t’ next it was a’ auctioneer -from Airlee; them three cottages went to another man from Airlee, and -that other man was a clerk i’ t’ same lawyer’s office, and t’ same -lawyer’s name is on t’ bottom of all t’ auctioneer’s bills. If you can’t -smoke aught after that, I’ll help you; but them ’at’s both years and -wisdom’ll happen put two and two together.” - -Swithin was eyeing the speaker unkindly, as he did any young man who -promised to score at the expense of his elders; but Ambrose was less -sensitive. - -“You’ll be meanin’ I reckon ’at all t’ property has getten into t’ same -hands? Well, it’s a sayin’ ’at all things has a’ end and a pudden has -two; but what end there is i’ cloakin’ a thing up so as you don’t know -whose brass is payin’ for t’ property I don’t see just at this minute. -But it’s trew enough ’at - - ‘There’s things out o’ seet - What’ll come to the leet - If we nobbut have patience, and bide.’ - -as I once wrote when I was in my gifted mood. There was three more -lines, but they’ve clean gone out o’ my mind, and I don’t know ’at it -matters——” - -“You were never more gifted nor when you made that verse, Ambrus,” -interrupted Jack; “and if we all live to see t’ end we shall see what a -cunning devil this Inman is. It’s naught to none of us who t’ property -belongs to; but I can tell you who t’ lawyer is ’at’s bought it——” - -“We know who he is, so you’re telling us nowt, Swithin broke in -derisively; and Jack turned upon him with a note in his voice that the -remark hardly accounted for. - -“I’m telling you what none of you’s had wit to pick out for yourselves; -’at it’s Inman’s lawyer—him ’at he’s recommended to Baldwin for this -John Clegg business,—’at’s bought up all t’ property. _Now_ do I let a -bit o’ daylight in?” - -From the expression on the men’s faces it was evident that he had; but -the operation was not one that Swithin approved when he was not the -operator, and he frowned on the young man as he said: - -“You’ve gone round and round, Jack, same as a pegged goat; but you’ve -just brought us back to t’ point I left off at—‘What’s he doing it -for?’ That’s what you haven’t tell’d us, and that’s what I ask?” - -“Aye, there’s lots of things you can ask,” answered Jack hotly, whilst a -red flush overspread his face and his brow grew black. “I could ask what -he’s doing it for when he meets your Polly first i’ one place then i’ -another, but always where he thinks they won’t be seen. ‘There’s no -mercy i’ Nature!’ No, by gen, there’s none in his; and one o’ these days -you’ll be finding it out i’ your house to your sorrow.” - -Without waiting to see the effect of this outburst—perhaps because he -was too ashamed of what it revealed—he pulled forward his cap and left -the assembly. Swithin’s mouth was wide open; but except for a furtive -glance none of the men dared to look at him, save only old Ambrose. - -“It’s t’ way o’ Natur’, Swithin——” he began; but by this time the -other had found his breath, and he broke forth: - -“T’ way o’ Natur’; If he hurts our Polly——! but I don’t believe a word -on’t, and I’ll break yon Jack Pearce his neck for him! She’s more sense -nor to let such as Inman go near her. Why, bless her, it ’ud kill her -mother if owt happened t’ lass!” - -“Don’t ye be too sure, Swithin, ’at there’s naught in it,” one of the -older men interposed quickly. “My missus has heard t’ tale, and there’s -more nor one has seen ’em together. It’s all round t’ village, anyway; -if you start a scandal it doesn’t go on crutches, you know—t’ women see -to that.” - -“There’s happen nowt in it,” another added. “Jack’s a bit touchy, you -see. He’s been spreading t’ net his-self for Polly, and he’s like to be -jealous.” - -The younger men laughed and Swithin experienced a sense of relief. - -“I’ll net him!” he muttered; “spreading his rotten lies through all t’ -village.” - -“All t’ same,” said old Ambrose; “when a wed man smirks on a young lass -he owt to be watched. It’s a trew word ’at there’s nivver a foul face -but there’s a foul fancy to match it; and a foul face that lad has, wi’ -mischief written deep. And when a man’s all for his-sen, even though -it’s i’ t’ way o’ Natur’, a lass’s mother counts for nowt.” - -Swithin shifted uneasily on his seat; and the landlord, who had heard -most of the triologue, but had been too busy to take part, now tried to -divert the conversation into another channel. - -“I feel sorry for yon two,” he said, indicating the Drakes’ dwelling -with a jerk of his head. “What they’ve had to put up with sin’ they -started ’ud try the patience o’ Job, for there’s been nasty underhanded -tricks played on ’em ’at ’ud ha’ driven some men out o’ t’ village. If -you take pleasure i’ smartness there’s no question but what Inman’s -smart, and keeps himself inside o’ t’ law into t’ bargain.” - -“Aye, aye, Albert; but you’re nobbut a young man and hasn’t got your -second sight yet,” said Ambrose knowingly. “A man ’at laiks wi’ a rope -round his neck may last for a while but he’ll be throttled at t’ finish. -There’s a sayin’ about a green bay-tree ’at I can’t call to -mind—whether it’s i’ t’ Bible or one o’ my verses I couldn’t just say. -I’ve lost a deal wi’ being a poor scholar, and it grieves me to think -’at if I’d nobbut—but I’ve lost t’ track o’ what I was sayin’, for owd -age sets my head a-hummin’ like a top.” - -“It caps me,” said Albert when the weak voice quavered to a standstill, -“’at Maniwel takes it all so pleasant-like; and as for Jagger, I can’t -reckon him up noway. I believe if they were to rive his shop down he’d -nayther swear nor laugh; but just set to work and build it up again.” - -“He cares nowt about owt sin’ Inman wed Nancy,” commented Swithin. “That -explains Jagger, and there’s no more to be said.” - -“Nay, there’s more nor that, Swithin,” said Ambrose. “You can judge t’ -foal better when you know it’s sire, and Maniwel explains Jagger. T’ -lad’s been a bit slow at findin’ his feet, but there’s nowt like a storm -for drivin’ a man to t’ rock, and Jagger frames to follow after his -fayther.” - -“He mud do worse,” said some man whom Ambrose could not see. - -“And that’s a trew word,” said Swithin, still gloomily, for his thoughts -were divided. - -“Right enough,” the landlord admitted; “but whether it’s a fault or a -merit for Maniwel to take things so calm-like is a thing ’at a man can’t -easy settle in his mind. Baldwin’s spread tales about ’em while there’s -scarce a timber-yard i’ t’ country ’at’ll give ’em credit. They’ve -clipped Joe his wings so as he dursn’t carry for ’em. Any man ’at -supplies Maniwel is crossed off Baldwin’s books; and even them ’at’s -given him a bit o’ work has been warned ’at if they go there for t’ -little jobs they needn’t turn to Baldwin for them ’at’s too big for -Maniwel to tackle. And now ’at he’s lost his brass, be it much or -little, what chance has he?” - -Most of those present shook their heads in reluctant agreement with the -landlord, but Swithin turned so that he could look Albert in the face, -and snapped an aggressive—“Well?” - -“I was only meaning,” the landlord explained, “’at it doesn’t seem sort -o’ natural for a man to be so cheerful i’ them circumstances, and to -bear no grudge——” - -“Well, ’cos why is he cheerful and doesn’t bear no grudge?” questioned -Swithin, whose manner in this examination was anything but cheerful, and -who seemed to be seeking a vent for his over-charged feelings. “I’ll -tell you ’cos why! Have you never heard tell o’ God’s will? Well, -Maniwel believes ’at there’s a power at t’ back o’ that man ’at goes -straight and tries to do his duty by his neighbour ’at not all the -devils i’ hell can stand again’, let alone such little devils as this -Inman.” - -His head fell as he mentioned the name, and not one of the company -needed to be told that the seed Jack Pearce had dropped was already -germinating. - -Old Ambrose knew it; but his soul had been fired by this new thought, -and he broke out eagerly: - -“Aye, you’ve hit t’ nail fair on t’ head this time, Swith’n. I couldn’t -ha’ put it better my-sen—not when I was i’ my gifted prime, and I -shouldn’t wonder if it comes o’ you goin’ to t’ chapil, if not reg’lar, -a toathri times i’ t’ year. I was a chapil-goer my-sen when I was a -young fella and I call to mind a famous sermon by an owd man called -Laycock—he was a local, but a grander preycher nor some ’at wore white -chokers. It was i’ t’ days when they didn’t watter t’ Gospil down same -as they do now, when they’re flayed o’ callin’ t’ devil hard names -chance he happens to hear ’em. Owd Laycock pictur’d him as a bull in a -mad hig ’at no man could stand up again’. But he tewk both t’ man and t’ -bull down to t’ railway; and he set t’ man on t’ Scotchman and t’ bull -atween t’ lines; and he opened t’ Scotchman’s throttle up yonder aboon -t’ Junction; and eh, dear, there wasn’t as much wind left i’ that bull -when t’ train had passed as there is i’ my poor bellowses at this -minute. I made a set o’ grand verses, but they’re clean gone. It seems a -sad waste o’ good stuff.” - -“It was a sadder waste of a good bull,” murmured one of the company -whose business made him a judge of such matters. - -“T’ bull ’ud ha’ made a sad waste of a good man, wouldn’t it?” snapped -Swithin. - -“It was only what you mud call a parrible—this o’ owd Laycock’s,” -Ambrose explained soothingly. “But what caps me is ’at Maniwel hasn’t so -much as a foul look for t’ bull—meanin’ by that word both Baldwin and -Nancy’s husband; but contraireywise ’ud go out of his road to do ’em a -kindness.” - -Before he could complete his observation, a shower that had been -threatening for some time began to fall heavily, and the company -dispersed—some to their homes and others to the parlour of the inn -where the entrance of Inman prevented any continuation of the -discussion. - -Jealousy is a good stone on which to sharpen a man’s wits; but there was -another in the village, in whom that trait was entirely wanting, who was -watching the course of events with a quick intelligence that read into -every move of Inman’s its proper significance. In one matter Maniwel was -misled, for Nancy’s name figured in the list of creditors with the sum -of £500 against it, and he was thankful that the girl’s loss was no -larger. To what extent she was still interested in the joinery business -he could not be sure; but he knew that by the terms of her father’s will -Baldwin had the option to reduce his indebtedness, and from the known -fact that the machinery was Baldwin’s own he concluded that little of -the original loan was now owing. - -Baldwin’s name figured high up in the list of creditors; and the outlook -in his case was dark as the realisable assets were small, and it seemed -likely that they would be absorbed in their entirety by the expense of -collection. - -Although Maniwel was naturally magnanimous, and less ready than most to -attribute selfish motives to Inman, he was too shrewd an observer to -overlook the evidences of duplicity that multiplied as the days went by; -for it is a mistake to suppose that a large heart can be indulged only -at the expense of a small brain. The wisdom of the serpent may be -usefully combined with the harmlessness of the dove, and Maniwel had -long ago reached the conclusion that Inman was working for his own ends -and hoodwinking the master who regarded him as his only friend. He was -convinced that Inman was the purchaser of all Baldwin’s property, and he -shared his convictions with his own family but with no one else. - -Jagger was indifferent. The money had been Nancy’s to start with—why -shouldn’t it return to her? As for a double-dyed rascal like -Inman—well, such men were apt to over-reach themselves and he could -afford to wait. Meantime, any stick, however crooked, was good enough to -beat such a dog as Baldwin with, and the harder Inman laid it on the -better he would be pleased. - -Hannah’s pity was reserved for Nancy, whose miseries had earned her -forgiveness long ago. As for Grannie, she shook her head mournfully and -said: - -“Didn’t I tell you— - - ‘A Clegg wife - And it’s trouble or strife.’ - -“He comes off a black moor, does her husband. Wasn’t it there where t’ -bog slid down and sought to drown ’em off t’ face o’ t’ earth, they was -that wicked, same as Sodom and Gomorrah? A race o’ cut-throats and -kidnappers, I’ve heard my father tell, where t’ men was rakes and t’ -sons o’ rakes, and t’ women a set o’ trollops. What was she doing, I -wonder, to mate wi’ such-like? But sorrow was written on t’ lass’ face, -as I’ve tell’d you many a time.” - -“Never heed t’ old tales, mother,” Maniwel would say, as he saw the -seamed face grow troubled. “There’s good, bad and middling on them moors -same as there is on these. You may be thankful ’at he can’t do us no -damage, choose how bad he is——!” - -“Can’t he!” commented Jagger. - -“No!” continued Maniwel. “I said us. I don’t deny ’at he can put a -toathri obstacles i’ t’ way o’ t’ business; but I reckon naught o’ that. -When I was a young man I didn’t set much store by flat-racing; but if -there was a hurdle race you couldn’t ha’ held me back. They put a bit o’ -spice into life, does obstacles; and there’s one thing I will say: there -isn’t much chance, o’ sleeping i’ t’ daytime when Inman’s planking down -his hurdles i’ t’ road, but I lose no sleep at nights.” - - - CHAPTER XVI - - IN WHICH INMAN SHOWS THE SUBTLETY OF A VERY - VENOMOUS SERPENT - -DURING these fateful weeks Nancy’s aversion to her husband settled -into a milder form of repugnance as she thought she recognised on his -part a warmer feeling towards herself. The reason for this increase of -amiability she might easily have surmised if she had been acquainted -with all the facts, which was far from being the case, for Inman told -her just as much as he wished her to know. One might have thought that -his affability would have aroused suspicion: that she might have -realised that there is no need for the highwayman to waste powder and -shot when a smile, which costs nothing, will serve his turn as well. But -Nancy was in no mood for analysing motives, and was only too thankful -that a protector was at hand to stand between her and the ill-temper -which Baldwin expended upon her with a savage coarseness that exceeded -anything she had previously experienced. The very sight of her, -reminding him as it did of the man who had robbed him, and of her better -fortune—for what was a paltry five hundred to one with her -means?—goaded him to vulgar reproaches and accusations which Nancy -would have found intolerable if it had not been for the knowledge that -her husband was only waiting his time. Inman was not always present on -these occasions; but when he was he would let his eyes rest on her with -a meaning look, and she knew that he was conveying the message he had -spoken in private a hundred times. - -“Have patience, lass! It’ll be your turn after a while! I’m booking it -all down!” - -In reality, of course, she was mistress of the situation, with the key -at her girdle, and she was quite aware of it. Baldwin’s resources were -almost exhausted and Inman’s savings she guessed were inconsiderable. -She was the only capitalist of the three, and if Baldwin had been wise -he would have made her his friend, in which case she might not have -acquiesced so carelessly in the use of her money for the appropriation -of his property. As it was, he alienated her sympathy and made her -hostile. - -She seldom replied to any of his taunts, and was even silent when her -husband encouraged her, contenting herself with a shrug and an -expression of weary indifference, and Inman would continue: - -“You’re safe enough in my hands. Leave it to me, and don’t worry your -head over whys and wherefores. Your interests are mine, and I’ll steer -the ship into calm waters, you’ll see; but it won’t be Baldwin Briggs -who’ll be master when it gets there.” - -He always laughed as he ended, and Nancy sometimes smiled. His strong -self-confidence struck a chord in her nature that responded readily. She -did not love him; she did not even respect him; sometimes when she -happened to touch him as they lay side by side in bed she would shiver -and draw back as if he had been some loathsome animal; but he was the -only protector she had, and he saved her the trouble of thinking for -herself at a time when she found it difficult to think. That is why she -acquiesced without question, and with a dull glow of satisfaction at her -heart and the beginnings of a sense of triumph, when Inman told her what -he had planned regarding the purchase of Baldwin’s property. - -“It’ll tide him over for a bit,” he said, “but it’s a plank and not a -jolly-boat, and he’s bound to go under.” - -His eyes smiled into Nancy’s as he said it; but the rest of his face was -passive. - -“He doesn’t seem to think so,” said Nancy. - -“No,” remarked her husband grimly; “he feels safe because my arm’s round -him; but the time will come when——” - -He opened his hands and flung his arms wide—a significant completion of -the sentence; and seeing his wife’s eyes soften he added with a laugh: - -“Then, maybe, we’ll save him and make him galley-slave, the foul-mouthed -devil.” - -When the report spread round the neighbourhood that Inman was the -purchaser that astute individual only stared. Once, when he was directly -challenged, he replied that he didn’t discuss business matters except -with principals, and added: - -“Lies are as thick on the ground as weeds. He’s a fool who wastes his -time stubbing ’em up!” - -“Doesn’t Baldwin guess?” Nancy asked, when he was relating this -encounter. - -“All Baldwin does is to curse to all eternity those who’ve bought at -half value,” laughed her husband. “There’s no wonder you look worn and -withered, Nancy!—he’s blasted you! Let him guess! Let ’em all guess! -Priestley’s a safe lawyer, and’ll give naught away.” - -This was only one move in the game and a legitimate one; there were -others, more devilish, that required a clear head, infinite patience and -the unscrupulous use of means which Inman judged it prudent to conceal -from Nancy’s eyes. Every evening when the men had gone Baldwin and Inman -would return to the office and discuss the situation out of earshot of -the women. On one of the earliest of these occasions Inman had produced -from a cupboard of which he had been given the key a bottle of whisky -and a single tumbler. - -“You don’t touch this stuff?” he said. “You were a wise man not to begin -it, for it’s a habit ’at isn’t easy dropped. I wish I could do without -it; but I’ve always found in my case that a drop of whisky’s a help when -I’m hard pushed, and gingers me up a bit. I don’t recommend it, mind -you, all the same, to them that aren’t used to it.” - -He was mixing himself a glass as he spoke, with a veiled eye on his -master who looked as if he was going to forbid the indulgence. Inman, -however, took no notice. - -“A cup of coffee or a bottle o’ bitters might get you to the same place -in time,” he said; “but this lands you there quicker, and time’s money -just now. It gives your brain a spurt and comforts your heart, _I_ find; -but those who haven’t begun it had better keep off it.” - -He turned a deaf ear to Baldwin’s mutterings, and from that moment -showed himself unusually resourceful. No actor on the stage of a crowded -theatre who was drawing the plaudits of his audience that night was -playing his part more admirably than Inman to this company of one. He -had no great liking for spirits, and he was on ordinary occasions -studiously abstemious; but he could drink hard on occasion and be little -the worse for it, and he counted on this capability now, when he had an -object in view—the object of guiding a pair of unaccustomed feet into -the perilous groves of Bacchus. - -Midway in the course of their deliberations on that first occasion he -had stretched out his hand for the bottle again and had checked himself. - -“That won’t do!” he said with a laugh; “—too much is as bad as too -little,” and he had risen and returned the bottle and tumbler to the -cupboard, putting the key in his pocket—an action which had made the -desired impression on Baldwin. - -For a time the ingenious and infernal scheme seemed likely to fail; but -if his hopes were disappointed Inman continued the same tactics and -displayed no hurry. At one time he would leave the bottle untouched -until the ineffectiveness of his suggestions led Baldwin to bring down -his hand upon the table with a hot recommendation that the condemned -stuff should be fetched out and his counsellor should get a move on. At -another he would profess physical weariness and depression, and would -refuse almost angrily to drink on the ground that a man might go too far -in drowning sorrow. On such an occasion Baldwin might storm as he liked -and Inman would remain unmoved. - -“We’ll leave it over till to-morrow. You wouldn’t have a man do what -you’ve too much sense to do yourself?” - -The subtle poison worked slowly, but still it worked. One night, when he -had been more than usually harassed because the bank at Keepton where he -had opened an account had definitely refused an overdraft on the ground -that the security he was able to offer was insufficient, and Inman’s -ingenuity had been unequal to the task of raising money in any other -direction, Baldwin sat in the kitchen, brooding over his misfortunes, -long after the others had gone to bed. He was weighted with care and -dreaded the sleepless hours that stretched in front of him. - -After a while he went out and quietly entered the office. It would not -have surprised Inman to know that the duplicate of the key that locked -his cupboard was in the master’s bunch; it might not have surprised him, -but it would certainly have gratified him, if he could have seen the -door unlocked and the whisky bottle produced. Baldwin had only a vague -idea of proportions, but he followed his foreman’s example and mixed -himself a stiff glass. That night he slept heavily and was untroubled by -dreams. Thereafter the two men drank together, not without protest on -Inman’s part, and Baldwin soon outdistanced his teacher. Then Inman knew -that the game was won. - -All the village was aware that Baldwin was drinking heavily before the -news reached the ears of Keturah and Nancy. - -Although it had been planned with that object Inman professed great -annoyance when he found that the confidence he had reposed in Albert -(very sympathetic confidence) had been abused; and his frowning silence -when the matter was mentioned in his hearing was sufficient confirmation -of the truth of the report. It was Hannah who told Nancy. Her kindly -heart had been touched by the message Jagger had brought her; and -knowing that Nancy’s condition caused her to stand in special need of a -friend in whom she could confide and who could be of service to her in a -hundred ways she determined that nothing short of actual prohibition by -Inman himself should keep her away. - -Hannah was a woman of action; a woman for an emergency; and though -sharp-spoken, a healer of breaches rather than a maker of them. Inman -gave her a keen glance when he found the two together; said “How d’ye -do?” in acknowledgement of her nod; and so tacitly recognised the -friendship. It was the first real crumb of comfort Nancy had tasted -since her marriage. - -“You know he’s taken to drink, I suppose?” - -“Who? James?” inquired Nancy, not wholly indifferent to what this might -portend. - -Hannah shook her head. “Nay, I mean Baldwin. It’s all over t’ place ’at -he goes to bed drunk night after night.” - -It was on Nancy’s lips to deny it; but one or two suspicious -circumstances she had observed held back the contradiction. - -“James has never said aught,” she remarked hesitatingly. - -“Maybe not,” replied Hannah, who was careful not to make mischief -between husband and wife. “They say your husband’s done his level best -to keep him off it,—locked t’ drink up, and Baldwin broke t’ lock, he -was that mad for’t. But I’ve happen done wrong to tell you, for you’ll -be safe enough with your husband in t’ house. All t’ same when you’re as -you are it’s as well to know.” - -“Yes, I’m glad you’ve told me,” Nancy said. “I daresay folks are making -a deal out o’ very little; but I’ll keep my eyes open and say naught.” - -When Keturah heard of it she was at first tearfully indignant, but it -was her nature to believe the worst, and her sense of helplessness led -her to patch up a kind of peace with Nancy upon whom she was ready to -lean now that the only prop she had known was likely to fail her. Later, -when Baldwin was at no pains to conceal his condition, fear dried her -tears, and drove her into a mood of despondency that left her limp and -unequal to the strain of her ordinary household duties. - -The seeds thus sown bore the crop of results Inman had foreseen, and -hearing of Baldwin’s moral wreckage, the firms that had continued to -give him credit now withheld it, whilst others gambled with the risk by -charging higher prices. It was in vain that Inman interviewed and -pleaded with them, for he was always forced to admit reluctantly in the -end that in their place he would have done the same. - -“The business is sound enough,” he would say; “but of course I’m not -master and Mr. Briggs is. It’s a sad pity that trouble’s driven him to -this; but we’ve to take facts as they are and I can’t blame you, though -I wish you could see your way just this once——” - -“Would you, if you were in my place?” - -Inman hesitated. In conducting these negotiations he gave the impression -of a man whose inflexible loyalty was baffled by a strict -conscientiousness. - -“If I could be absolutely sure that he would allow me to guide him, I -would say yes. So far he has done so on most occasions. Once or twice -lately—but he wasn’t master of himself then, and I’m hoping he’ll pull -himself together.” - -“Find somebody to guarantee the account, Mr. Inman, and you shall have -the old terms with pleasure. What about your wife?” Everybody knew by -this time that Nancy had ample means. - -Inman shook his head. “I’ve tried my best, but you know what timid -creatures women are; and my wife’s as far in as she cares to be.” - -“That’s exactly our position, Mr. Inman.” - -This was how it always ended, and Inman would shake hands with a -downcast expression on his honest face, and a note of regret in his -voice as he assured the principal that he couldn’t blame him. - -One man in the village refused to join in the general chorus of -condemnation. There is a variation of a familiar proverb that reads: “A -friend loveth at all times, and is born as a brother for adversity.” -Maniwel Drake was such a friend. - -He had been having a hard struggle in his business as we have seen; but -so far his shoulders had been broad enough for the burdens they had had -to carry, and his heart had always been light. Since Jagger’s -“conversion” he had scarcely had a care in the world; for the loss of -his little capital had left him unmoved, and it is true to say that the -contemplation of Baldwin’s misfortune had given him more sorrow than -anything he had experienced since the death of his wife. It afforded him -little satisfaction to realise that as Baldwin’s embarrassments -increased his own diminished; that the “hurdles” were being removed one -by one out of his path; and that a moderate prosperity was opening out -before him. - -It was not until Baldwin took to drink that Maniwel allowed himself to -give way to depression, however, and when he found that his son received -the news with an indifference that was not far removed from satisfaction -his wrath was aroused. - -“If there’s rejoicing in the presence o’ the angels of God over a sinner -’at repenteth,” he said, “there’s like to be rejoicing amongst t’other -sort over one ’at sinks deeper into t’ mire; but I should grieve for a -son o’ mine to join in such a devil-dance! I’m for lending Baldwin a -hand if it can be done at all. He’s both ox and ass, is Baldwin; and if -he can be got out o’ t’ pit it’s our duty to do it.” - -“And have your labour for your pains,” commented Jagger. - -“It won’t be t’ first time I’ve worked for naught, and been no worse -for’t,” replied Maniwel. - -He chose his opportunity when he had seen Inman pass on his way to the -station, and early in the afternoon he walked up to Baldwin’s workshop. -There was no one downstairs and all was quiet above, but when he reached -the next storey he heard a sound in Baldwin’s office and went in, as he -had always done—as everybody did—without waiting for an answer to his -knock. - -There was a bottle on the table and a glass half full of spirits was in -Baldwin’s hand. He set it down angrily when he recognised his visitor, -and with a curse bade him begone. - -“I neither know nor care what brings tha!” he shouted. “Get outside, -afore I help tha down!” - -“Baldwin!” said Maniwel in a firm but kindly tone; “there never was a -time, lad, when tha needed a friend more than tha does now, and I doubt -if tha has one i’ t’ world, barring my-sen. I’ve come as a friend——” - -“I won’t listen to tha,” shouted the infuriated man, who had already had -drink enough to inflame his passion. “I tell tha I’ll do tha an injury -if tha doesn’t take thi-sen off! Damn tha! Isn’t it enough ’at tha’s -ruined me; thee and thy son——!” - -“God help tha, lad!” broke in Maniwel; “tha can’t do me half as big an -injury as tha’s doing thi-sen, and I’m flayed them ’at’s advising tha is -doing tha no good.” - -His eye had fallen on the second glass in the cupboard, and his voice -became more pleading. “Don’t thee pin thi faith to Inman, lad. I’d do no -man a wrong; but it’s borne in on me ’at that lad’s working for his own -ends, and when he’s finished wi’ tha he’ll toss tha on t’ midden same as -an old shoe! Cannot tha trust me, lad? Tha’s never known Maniwel Drake -go back on his word, and I promise tha I’ll help tha, if I have to -suffer for’t.” - -Baldwin’s anger had made him impotent, but at these words he drained his -glass and then dashed it at Maniwel’s feet where it lay broken in a -thousand fragments. Curse followed curse as he refused his old mate’s -offer and threatened him with mischief. Maniwel went a step forward and -laid his hand on the other’s arm. - -“I’ll go, lad. It’s ill trying to reason wi’ a man ’at’s i’ drink; but -just try to let this one word get through t’ drink to thi memory. When -tha comes to thi-sen and wants a friend, tha’ll find him where he’s -always been—at Maniwel Drake’s.” - -With these words and without a backward glance, he left the room, and -returned home. - - - CHAPTER XVII - - IN WHICH NANCY’S BABY IS BORN AND JAGGER LOSES - HIS TEMPER - -THERE are some men who take an almost scientific interest in -compassing the ruin of others. Along certain channels the current of -humane and kindly feeling may flow as with other men, but let some -particular individual injure them, or stand in the way of their -advancement, and their conduct becomes inhuman; and they will watch the -sufferings they produce with something of the detached and impersonal -interest of the chemist who expects that his mixture of chemicals must -ultimately shatter the vessel that contains it, and whose only care is -to safeguard himself from injury in the process. - -Inman was of this class. It afforded him positive pleasure to see how -the coils he wound so cunningly tightened about his unsuspecting victim. -The knowledge that he was unsuspected added to his enjoyment; tickled -his sense of humour. He believed with all his soul that Baldwin’s -motto—“all for my-sen” could not be bettered; it was the view of life -held by all healthy animals—by the cross-grained buck-rabbit as much as -by the stoat; and the game of stalking the stalker was one that afforded -him endless amusement. - -It gratified him too to realise that he was succeeding in another -direction: that the villagers were looking upon him with a less -unfriendly eye as Baldwin’s increasing demoralisation and coarseness of -language cooled their already luke-warm sympathies. It was to the man’s -credit, they said, that he should keep his head and his temper, and work -industriously and cleverly in his master’s interests, when everybody -knew what provocation to wrath the master offered. Inman never -manifested ill-temper; never advanced beyond a half-humorous sneer; -maybe (they argued) he showed his worst side to the world, as the men of -his wild country were said to do. There were others, however, who shook -their heads meaningly, and kept firm hold of their distrust. - -Meantime Inman’s grip upon his master tightened, and a more domineering -note crept into his voice when he addressed him; but only when they were -alone; only when evening brought them to the council-room and the -bottle. - -“I tell you,” said Inman, “Nancy’s gone as far as she will go. If you -think you can do better than I’ve done, try her yourself—_I’m_ willing. -I daresay in spite of all your foul language and black looks she loves -you as much as she does me.” There was a harder note than usual in his -voice, as if his patience was almost exhausted, and his lip took an ugly -curve as he spoke of Nancy’s love, for she had been irritable of late, -and once or twice hot words had passed between them. - -They were sitting at the table in the dimly-lit office, each with a -glass in front of him; but Inman was making a mere pretence of drinking. - -“You’ve taught her her lesson too well for her to forget it,” he -continued as Baldwin merely sent Nancy to an unknown destination. - -“She says a man who’s all for himself isn’t to be trusted without -security, and what can I say? _You_ wouldn’t do it if you were in her -place.” - -Baldwin scowled and said nothing that could be distinguished. - -“There’s one way out and only one, that I can see; but I’ve mentioned it -till I’m tired. _I’ll_ lend you five hundred;—it’s all I can lay my -hands on; but five hundred’ll see you out o’ the ditch; five hundred’ll -put you on your feet. And what do I ask for it? Five per cent., that’s -all; just what you pay Nancy; and you boggle at it!” - -“I do naught o’ t’ sort,” flashed Baldwin fiercely. “I’ll pay you ten; -I’ll pay you a damned sight more’n you’ll get anywhere else; but I’ll -see you blaze before I’ll give you a bill o’ sale; so there you have -it!” - -Inman turned on his seat with a gesture of restrained impatience. - -“You’d sooner sink in the bog than clutch a dirty rope and be saved! -It’s damned folly! I don’t like bills o’ sale, who does? But if you -think I’m going to lend my money for your creditors to grab if the worst -comes to the worst, you’re mistaken. I can save the business yet; but -I’m man and not master, and may be sacked at a minute’s notice, same as -you sacked Jagger. It’s either a bill o’ sale, or we flounder on for -another month or so and then—” - -He shrugged his shoulders; but Baldwin was not looking. He had emptied -his glass and the bottle and his eyes were on the table. Inman watched -him, and a smile, that was nearly as ugly as the frown it replaced, -spread over his face. - -“What objection is there to it?” he went on with less heat. “I only want -it for security; it isn’t same as I was taking aught from you. Has to be -registered, you say? Well, you’ll be registered a deal more in another -month or two if you don’t do it. And that’ll go against the grain when -the _Herald_ and all the other papers have you listed as bankrupt.” - -The other’s face became distorted with passion, but the oaths he poured -out left Inman unmoved. - -“I’m trying to save you, aren’t I?” he continued; “but you’re same as a -man that’s drowning; you kick and struggle till you’d pull a strong -swimmer down with you, and I’m not having any. Will five hundred set you -on your feet? Are you sober enough to answer me that?” - -It was the first time that he had adopted this tone with his victim, but -he had measured his distance and knew how far he could go. - -“I’m as sober as you,” the other growled thickly. “Five hundred ’ud pull -me through; but I tell you I’ll see you hanged before I’ll give you that -bill!” - -“Very well,” said Inman calmly. “Perhaps before we separate you’ll tell -me why, and what you propose to do instead. My money’s right where it is -even if it doesn’t bring in five per cent.” - -Baldwin said nothing; and Inman regarded him for quite a minute in -silence. He then remarked: - -“I’ve finished with that suggestion now. Next time it’s mentioned it’ll -come from you; but there’s one thing I want to point out. These folk -you’ve dealt with all these years aren’t willing to do much for you now -’at you’re down; and you’ve no bank to give you a helping hand. Suppose -you had to come to grief in the end what harm would it do you if I was -to get the machinery, and leave the other creditors to whistle for their -brass? What have they done for you that you’ve to consider them?” - -He looked at his watch, and without waiting for an answer rose and went -out, turning his steps towards the moors, where there was other game to -be snared; and Baldwin sat on, staring moodily at the chair his foreman -had vacated. - -An hour later Nancy’s baby was born and news spread through the village -that the mother’s life was despaired of. The event had not been expected -so soon, but there was plenty of competent help available, and it was -not the midwife’s inefficiency that caused the old doctor, who had been -summoned by telegraph, to shake his head. - -“Where’s the father?” he inquired. “Tell him I want him, sharp.” - -Keturah hastened to the workshop, but found only Baldwin whom she could -not waken from a drunken sleep. Hannah ran home to ask her brother to -seek him. - -“He’s not in t’ ‘Packhorse,’” she gasped. “Go fetch him, lad. It’s for -poor Nancy’s sake!” - -“And bridle your tongue and temper!” said Maniwel. “If you’ll take the -moor road, I’ll walk down Kirkby way.” - -Just beyond Baldwin’s workshop Jack Pearce caught Jagger’s arm. - -“Are you after Inman?” he asked; and putting his lips to the other’s ear -whispered something that caused Jagger to fling off the detaining hand -and clench his fists. - -“Are you sure, Jack? As certain as there’s a God in heaven if I catch -him at that game I’ll lay him out!” - -“I’d like to help you at that job,” said Jack; “but I’m best away. I’m -dirt in her eyes. If I caught ’em together there’d be murder done, -though he could pay me wi’ one hand.” - -“He can’t me!” said Jagger grimly; and he strode away into the darkness. - -It was not really dark, for in September day lingers on the uplands to -chat with night; but there are gloomy places in the shadows of the great -hills which those who love the light are careful to avoid. It was -towards one of these that Jagger hurried with a fierce anger at his -heart that made him oblivious of everything except his mission, and even -that was obscured by the deeper purpose of punishment. - -Of punishment—not revenge. Nancy lay dying, perhaps by this time was -already dead; and the man who ought to have been at hand in the -emergency: the man whose quick brain might have suggested something, -however impossible or futile: the father of the child who was to lose -its mother; was indulging in an amour with another woman—a child whose -hair until a few months ago was hanging down her back. - -Mountain linnets rose from their nests in alarm as his feet crunched the -stiff grass. A couple of gulls wheeled over his head. Even in the dim -light the moor was rich in colour, and the mantle night had thrown down -upon it could not wholly hide the madder-brown of the soil that peeped -out in patches from amidst the orange and crimson bushes, the russet-red -fronds of dead bracken, and the sober array of grasses, straw-coloured -and green. If this riot of subdued colour failed to reach Jagger’s -perceptions it was because a warmer tint was before his eyes—he was -“seeing red.” - -Strangely enough, when he stumbled upon the guilty pair and found that -he had been observed, although too late for escape or concealment, he -held himself well in hand. Like a voice by telephone his father’s words -vibrated on his brain—“Bridle your tongue and temper!” Until that -moment he had given them no second thought; reaching him now by that -mysterious wireless that baffles explanation they served to bring him to -his senses and to push Nancy’s need into the forefront of his thoughts. - -Polly had released herself from Inman’s arms and stood by, half-tearful, -half-defiant, looking on Jagger whose stern eyes had never once been -turned to her face. Inman, with an uneasy sneer upon his lips, had -thrust his hands deep into his pockets and was putting on a front of -dare-devilry and scorn. - -“I’m seeking you, Inman,” Jagger began. He had walked hotly and was a -little out of breath, but the words came steadily enough. - -“Your baby’s come, and Nancy’s dying—maybe dead. Get away down, as -straight as you can go, and I’ll see Polly safe.” - -The girl gave a startled gasp, and shrunk farther back into the deeper -shadows of the rock that overhung them. Inman’s face lost its look of -disdain and for once the man found himself at a loss for words. - -“Do you hear me?” continued Jagger, speaking in a low passionless voice -that ought to have warned the other of danger. “Why don’t you go? -Haven’t I told you your wife’s dying? For her sake—at any rate until t’ -sod covers her,—I’ll say naught about what I’ve seen. Get you gone!” - -“All in good time!” replied Inman in a cold voice as he recovered -himself. “You’ve delivered your message, and there’s no need for you to -stop any longer. I’ll go down when it suits me, but not at your -bidding.” - -The look of a madman was in Jagger’s eyes, and a madman’s unreasoning -anger was in his heart. His father’s warning slipped into the -background, yet his voice remained low as he said: - -“So you’ll stop up here, you dirty blackguard with your light o’ love, -while the wife you stole lies dying! If I served you as you deserve I’d -kick you every step o’ t’ way home; but I’d be doing her a better turn -to lay you out here on t’ hillside, and leave t’ crows to pick your -stinking bones.” - -He paid the penalty of his violence the next moment, and though anger -now blazed in Inman’s eyes it was not he, but Polly, who turned the -tables upon him. Her white face quivered with passion as she left -Inman’s side and confronted Jagger. - -“Light o’ love, am I? Then whose light o’ love is Nancy, I’d like to -know? Who is it goes kissing and cuddling i’ t’ Cove of a night, Jagger -Drake? It’s _you_ ’at ’ud better be by her bed-side, if so be ’at she’s -dying; _you_, ’at she’s rued she didn’t wed, and gives her kisses to! T’ -pot might well call t’ pan, Jagger Drake!” - -“Is this true, Polly?” said Inman, seizing the girl by the shoulders and -looking into her face. - -“I’ve seen ’em with these eyes and heard ’em with these ears!” she -replied. “I wasn’t spying on ’em neither. They were one side o’ t’ wall -and me t’other.” - -“And you never told me!” he went on, tightening his grasp on her -shoulder until the pain made her wince. - -“And I never would ha’ done,” she answered doggedly. “It was six o’ one -and half-a-dozen o’ t’other”; and she began to sob. - -He pushed her away roughly and turned to Jagger, who was standing -utterly crestfallen and unhinged, deprived of the power of thought and -action by this unexpected development. - -“I could be almost glad of this,” said Inman, as he bent forward until -his face approached his opponent’s; “but I’ve got to thrash you for it. -Strip!” - -“Aye, by gen I will!” A fierce joy arose in Jagger’s heart. The sense of -discomfiture and humiliation fled like the gloom of night at a clear -daybreak. His coat was instantly on the ground and he was rolling up his -sleeves. “But there’s one thing I’ll say to you first, chance you don’t -live to hear it after, or me to tell it. I never wronged you but wi’ one -kiss, and it wasn’t Nancy’s wish. She’s always walked t’ straight road, -and barring that one time so have I. Now I’m ready for you!” - -The fight had not been in progress a minute before Polly covered her -eyes with her hands and ran away screaming. They were both strong and -powerful men; and if Jagger had attacked in the heat of his anger it -might have gone badly with him, for Inman’s passion never suffered him -to lose his self-control. Now, however, the one was no whit cooler than -the other, and the result was not long in doubt. No boxer or wrestler on -the moor could stand up to Jagger Drake with any hope of success. Every -native for miles round knew it; but Inman was not a native, and the fact -was unknown to him; at the same time the knowledge would probably have -made no difference, for cowardice was not among the number of his vices. -He got in a few heavy blows whilst Jagger awaited his opportunity, and -the seeming ineffectiveness of his opponent perhaps threw him off his -guard, for the first knock he received on the jaw sent him like a log to -the ground. - -His white face looked ghastly in the darkness as Jagger bent over it. He -was unconscious, but Jagger’s practised eye and ear told him there was -no danger; and moistening his handkerchief in a near-by runnel he bathed -the prostrate man’s brow until the quivering of the eyelids showed that -sense was returning. - -A little later Inman sat up. “Pass me my coat,” he said; and Jagger -handed it to him without a word. - -“You’re a better man than me with your fists,” he continued, as he -looked up with proud defiance into the other’s set face. “You know how -to hit, and where. _So do I._ I’ll hit where it’ll hurt, you bet; where -it’ll hurt till hell ’ud be a picnic. I’m no saint, and I neither forget -nor forgive. You needn’t wait, Mr. Drake. I’ll come down at my leisure.” - -“Very good!” said Jagger contemptuously. “Get on with your hitting!” and -turned away. - -“If it was only me,” he said to himself as he walked slowly towards the -village, “I daresay he’d find a way to ruin me, for he’s the devil -himself; but he can’t hurt father.” - -He was thinking of the business; but the business had not been in -Inman’s thoughts. - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - IN WHICH BALDWIN ALLOWS AN OPPORTUNITY TO - SLIP - -HANNAH was bending over the fire stirring something in a pan when -Inman entered the kitchen, and he went straight up to her and laying a -hand on her shoulder said: - -“Keturah’ll manage that, whatever it is; and if she can’t I’ll pay -somebody else to do it. Get you off home and bandage your brother; and -never set foot in this house again while I’m its master.” - -Hannah flashed round, and though her eyes widened at the sight of his -swollen face she was not cowed. - -“There’s work been done while you’ve been fighting,” she said; “and -there’s work yet to be done if your wife’s life is to be saved; and work -’at only women can do——” - -“Have done, woman!” he commanded, “and get your things on, if you have -any. I don’t want to lay my hands on you; but, by my soul if you aren’t -out of this house in another minute I’ll throw you out!” - -“Lord save us!” ejaculated Keturah, who had been frightened into silence -by Inman’s look and voice. “This is what comes o’ whisky-drinking. Eh, -dear! Eh, dear! and Nancy on her dying bed at this minute!” - -“Take t’ spoon, Keturah,” said Hannah, as Inman uttered an impatient -exclamation. “We mustn’t have a row i’ t’ house, choose what else we -have. I’ll go, seeing as I must; and I hope an’ trust ’at t’ worst is -over and Nancy’ll pull through now. Maybe you’ll find time to run across -and bring me word.” - -“It’s come to a bonny pass,” wailed Keturah with a spark of spirit, as -she took up the spoon and Hannah’s work; “when we’ve to be at t’ beck -and call of a man nob’dy’d set eyes on this time was a twelve-month, and -ordered about same as we was slaves, and he’d use t’ whip to wer -backs——” - -“And so I would for two pins,” Inman broke in sharply. “Shut your mouth, -woman! It’s a sick house,” he added with a sneer—“and we must have -quiet! Tell your brother,” he said to Hannah as he held open the door -for her to pass out, “that I shall begin the treatment I spoke of this -very night, and he can have that thought to sleep on. And don’t forget -that this door’s closed to you!” - -He went upstairs without returning to the kitchen and Keturah heard his -voice on the landing in conversation with the doctor. By and by the two -men came down together and passed into the parlour. - -“I care nothing about the child’s life,” Inman said in a tone that was -strange to Keturah; “but I hope you’ll not let the mother slip through -your fingers. You don’t often hear a man talk of disappointments at a -time like this I daresay, but it’ll be a big disappointment to me if she -dies. If there’s anything else to be done; any other man you think could -help——” - -“It will be settled one way or the other, my lad, before any other man -could get here,” interposed the doctor. “She’s putting up a better fight -now than I gave her credit for, and I wouldn’t say that she hasn’t a -chance. No! no! not for me,” he added as Inman produced a bottle and a -couple of tumblers. “A drop before I go to bed, maybe; but never whilst -there’s work to be done.” - -“Then I ought to sign off the stuff for a month or two,” said Inman with -a hard laugh, “for I’ve work to do that I’d be sorry to spoil.” - -The doctor looked up at him curiously and his eyes rested on Inman’s -swollen and discoloured face. - -“You’ve been in the wars yourself, I see,” he remarked. “That’s a nasty -bruise you’ve got!” - -“Yes,” said Inman, “it is”; and vouchsafed no other reply. - -When he left his shake-down in the parlour the next morning he found the -doctor drinking a cup of tea in the kitchen. The old man’s eyes were -tired and he looked weary; but his voice was cheery as he said: - -“I must get away for a few hours. There are others who must be seen; but -though your wife isn’t out of the wood yet, we have not worked all night -for nothing. I’ll be round again at noon.” - -“I’m much obliged to you,” said Inman calmly. “I wouldn’t have her die -for the world. I want her to get well and strong—aye, by Jove, and to -have her feelings. She hasn’t been out of my thoughts all night.” - -The doctor stared at him. “Very natural, of course,” he said. He was -thinking to himself that he would never have expected this reserved, -obstinate-looking young fellow to be so deeply affected by the anxiety -that throws some men off their balance at these times. - -Baldwin was unbearable that morning and for once Inman was not -conciliatory. Both men felt that they were objects of interest to the -others and both knew that their affairs would have been discussed in the -public-house the night before; but whereas Baldwin was too muddled by -drink and worry to pay any attention to the idle talk of his neighbours -Inman was chafing under a sense of deep humiliation; and his ill-temper -which he had carefully cloaked from the men, found an outlet when he was -summoned to the office just before noon. - -No sooner was the door closed than Baldwin let loose a flood of coarse -language on which the information he intended to impart was carried in -disjointed fragments that told Inman nothing. - -“Look here, Mr. Briggs!” he said, so sharply that Baldwin stopped with -an abruptness that proved his astonishment. “If you’ve anything to say -get it said, and don’t unload all your foul talk on to me. Why the devil -should I have my ears turned into sewers for all your filth? The post -can have brought you naught you haven’t expected. If you want my help, -get to the point, and if you don’t I’ll go back. I’m in a mood to jack -the whole thing up this morning, and let you go to hell your own way.” - -His tone was so surly and menacing that Baldwin, who had dropped into a -chair and was staring at him with blinking eyes that had something of -fear in them as well as wonder, found himself without words. - -“If you’ve aught to say to me about the shop—aught ’at either I or the -other chaps have got to do, I’ll take your instructions. If it’s your -business affairs you’re troubled with you must fight ’em out yourself; -I’ve said all I can say.” - -“Oh, you have, have you? And I must, must I?”—the spark of life in -Baldwin’s spirit manifested itself in one last kick against this -unwelcome dictatorship; but his dependence on the other’s strength made -actual opposition impossible, and the defiant tone ended in a surly -whine. - -“You’ll be same as all t’ rest, I reckon. When t’ old dog’s teeth are -gone and there’s naught left but its bark, every cur’ll snap at it.” - -“Every dog has its day,” commented Inman cynically. “I’ve offered to -prolong yours, and these writs you are talking about needn’t have -worried you. I can say no more.” - -Baldwin’s eyes rested wearily upon the letters that strewed the table in -front of him. For a moment or two he said nothing; but his brow bent -more and more until tiny drops of moisture appeared above the coarse -pepper-coloured hairs which bristled like those of a wild boar. Inman -watched him in silence. - -“Have you that brass handy?” The eyes were not raised from the table, -and the voice was a hollow echo of Baldwin’s. - -“You can have it as soon as the document’s ready.” - -“Then get t’ document, and be hanged to you!” - -Baldwin rose and went over to the cupboard; but Inman interposed. - -“There’s nothing there; you finished it last night, and it’s perhaps as -well. You’d best keep sober this afternoon and think the matter over. If -you’re in the same mind to-morrow morning I’ll go over to Keepton and -fix the thing up. I’m not going to have it said ’at I took advantage of -you. It wouldn’t take two straws to make me back out altogether, for I -tell you straight I don’t care to trust a man who drinks himself blind -every night.” - -Without waiting to see what effect these words had upon his master, -Inman turned upon his heel and went out; but when Baldwin joined him at -the dinner table a few minutes later the storm—if storm there had -been—had spent itself, and both men recovered themselves a little -during the meal. - -Somewhat late in the evening the nurse asked Inman if he would keep an -eye on his wife and child for a few minutes as Keturah was in the -village, and he found an opportunity he had been seeking. - -They were both asleep when he entered the room, the child’s head resting -in the hollow of the mother’s arm where she had asked for it to be laid. -The most dangerous crisis was past and the doctor now thought that Nancy -would pull through. Inman just glanced at the pair, and though emotion -shone in his eyes it was not that of tenderness. When he had satisfied -himself that his wife’s slumber was real he bestowed no further thought -upon her, but quietly mounted a chair and lifted down his bag from the -top of the cupboard and placed it on the dark landing, whence he removed -it to the parlour when the nurse relieved him a few minutes later. - -Keturah had not returned and the transaction had passed unobserved by -anyone. Inman smiled his self-congratulations as he slung the bag over -the moulding of the old-fashioned bookcase, where it raised a cloud of -dust that assured him the place of concealment was well-chosen. When -Keturah came hurrying in he was standing in the kitchen with his back to -the fire. - -Baldwin looked up when supper was over. He had not tasted drink that day -and his mood had changed since morning. - -“Maniwel’s got that job we’ve been after up at Far Tarn,” he began when -Inman accepted his suggestion that they should return to the office. - -“Has he?” Inman replied indifferently. - -Baldwin surveyed him with something of his old fierceness; and the look -of premature superciliousness that he thought he saw in his foreman’s -face combined with the tone of contemptuous unconcern, led to a result -which neither man had anticipated a moment before. - -“I’ll do without your brass,” he said in one of his old gusts of anger -that quickly brought Inman to his senses again. “It’s plain to see who’s -to be t’ boss when you’ve ’commodated me wi’ your five hundred, for -you’re holding your head already, both i’ t’ house and t’ shop, as if -you were gaffer. You may take yourself off to another market, young man, -and as soon as you like. There’s been naught but mischief i’ t’ place -ever sin’ you set your foot in’t, and I’ll try if getting rid o’ t’ -Jonah’ll save t’ ship. If it doesn’t we can but sink and ha’ done wi’t.” - -It would be difficult to say which of the two men was the more surprised -by this deliverance. Baldwin had invited Inman to accompany him to the -office with the express object of accepting the unwelcome terms. He had, -indeed, dwelt upon the alternatives so long that the terms had almost -ceased to be unwelcome, and he had persuaded himself that with this -relief he would soon be able to find his feet again, when it would be no -great matter to get rid of the yoke that was so galling to his pride, -and consign the bill of sale to those blazes that were so often on his -tongue. - -Inman, too, without the effort of conscious thought, had known that his -master was about to bend his head to the yoke; had been so convinced of -it from reliable inward witness that he had allowed his whole manner to -forestall the consummation and thereby jeopardise it. Even now, so -accustomed had he become to the foretaste of success and the realisation -of his strength, he hardly troubled to stoop to conciliate, choosing to -regard the outburst as a mere ebullition of temper that would expend -itself as quickly as a child’s squib. - -“I meant no offence,” he said without warmth; “and of course you can -please yourself about the money.” - -“Can I?” interrupted Baldwin, in quite his old style. He was surprised -at his own boldness, but was aware of an exhilaration to which he had -been a stranger for some weeks. It was as though some force outside his -own volition was egging him on to resist the cynical adviser, and abide -by the threat he had expressed to get rid of him. It was seldom that his -brain evolved a metaphor; but that of Jonah which had flashed across his -mind like an inspiration held him with a force that seemed to him almost -supernatural and that gave him new courage. - -“Can I?” he repeated, frowning portentously at his companion. “I can -please myself! Well, that’s something to be thankful for, choose -how!”—his slow wits were still turning over the image that had startled -them—“I reckon I’m master o’ t’ ship even if t’ ship is sinking, and I -can chuck Jonah overboard if I like——” He was trying to hold the -conversation and examine this new thought at the same time, and he found -the task beyond his powers. The suggestion that he should dismiss -Inman—send him about his business as abruptly as he had engaged -him—was clamouring for acceptance, and he was trying to weigh it, -instead of risking the hazard. “Every bit o’ ill-luck there’s been came -wi’ you; and I’m hanged if I’ve a spoon ’at’s long enough to sup wi’ t’ -devil. You can clear out, I tell you, wi’ your ‘cans’ and your ‘please -yourselves,’ and I’ll go see Green and a toathri more myself and maybe -patch matters up wi’ ’em. I’ve been a damned fool ’at I haven’t done it -afore.” - -Why the thought of Maniwel insisted on obtruding itself Baldwin could -not explain, but so it was. The fact irritated him with the vague -feeling that it had a meaning he could not interpret. - -The long and hesitating harangue had not been unwelcome to Inman, who -had been sending out thought-scouts in all directions during its -progress, and had determined on his line of action. - -“I suppose I’m a damned fool too,” he said cunningly, and with no sudden -change of tone to quicken the other’s suspicions. “What with the worry -of the business and anxiety over Nancy——” the softening of voice that -the mention of his wife’s name occasioned could not be -misunderstood—“to say nothing of the row I had with Jagger only last -night ’ud drive most men off their heads, let alone making ’em a bit -ill-tempered.” - -“What occasion had you to fall out wi’ Jagger?” snapped Baldwin, whose -curiosity allowed him to be side-tracked. “It’s no sort of a game to go -about trying to bash other men their heads in——” - -“That’s so,” replied Inman, with studied calm, “but when a man’s been -interfering with your wife and admits it——! However, that’s between -him and Nancy and me, and I’m not wanting a scandal made of it. All I -say is ’at it isn’t to be wondered at if I don’t speak as civil as I -ought to do. Maybe I’ve been a fool to meddle with your business at all. -I ought to ha’ remembered it was none o’ mine, and wouldn’t put a penny -in my pocket whichever way it went.” - -He both sounded and looked dejected, and Baldwin, however suspicious by -nature, was too simple to realise that all this was consummately clever -acting, and he began to soften. Yet the taste of power was pleasant; and -he could not forget that strange sense of guidance which had impelled -him to send Inman about his business, putting thoughts into his mind -which he had never framed, and ascribing his misfortunes to the man who -had seemed to be his one friend and deliverer. - -It was all very puzzling and he took refuge in silence and a heavy -scowl. The desk was littered with papers, and he turned and rummaged -amongst them as if the clue by which he might release himself was to be -found there. Inman waited; and Baldwin never guessed how the cast-down -eyes searched his face in an endeavour to read the thoughts it indexed. -The attempt was less successful than usual and Inman cursed himself -inwardly for his precipitancy. Was he to lose everything, just when it -had been in his grasp? The sigh that escaped him was not entirely -theatrical. - -Baldwin looked up and signified with a motion of the head that Inman -might leave; and when the sign was ignored stormed out in the familiar -way. - -“I beg your pardon,” said Inman; “I didn’t understand you. Am I to take -it that I’m sacked?” - -“You’re to take yourself out o’ my sight,” snapped his master. “I’ll say -naught no more while I’ve slept on’t.” - -Baldwin glanced at the clock when he found himself alone. A strong -impulse bade him swallow his pride and go down to see Maniwel; but -instead of yielding to it he began to reason. It was after ten, and -Maniwel went to bed in good time—it was Jagger who sat up late. -Besides, what good would it do? Maniwel was at his wits’ end for -money—must be; he would sympathise no doubt; but an overdraft at the -bank was the sort of sympathy he wanted and Maniwel could not get one -himself. “Go!” said the persuasive voice. “To the man who’s stealing -your business from you?” another voice questioned. Baldwin listened and -hesitated until the hands of the clock pointed to eleven, and then went -to bed. - - * * * * * - -In his cottage by the bridge Maniwel sat over the fire alone. The Bible -was open on the table behind him, and he was thinking of the passage he -had read before the others went upstairs—“if he shall hear thee thou -hast gained thy brother.” - -Jagger had been very elated at securing the contract for the work at Far -Tarn and at the accommodating attitude of the timber-merchants who were -to supply the material. - -“That’ll be one in the eye for Inman,” he had said exultingly. - -“Get off to bed, lad! You’ve to be up early to-morrow!” was all his -father had replied. - -“Thou hast gained thy brother!” Maniwel’s thoughts worked upon that -short sentence for an hour and brought both Baldwin and Inman within -their scope. It was not to be wondered at that his first concern was for -his old workmate. - -“I doubt that young man’s working tha harm, lad,” he said aloud, but in -a low voice, as if Baldwin had been seated in grannie’s chair where his -eyes were resting. “Tha played me a fouler trick than anyone knows on -and was fain to be rid of me; but I’m grieved, lad, to see tha brought -so low.” - -Again he fixed his eyes on the fire, and again his lips began to move. - -“I happen did wrong to leave tha; though, right enough, tha never asked -me to stop, and I know I should ha’ been i’ thi way. I fear tha’rt going -t’ wrong road, lad,—body and soul; and this young fellow’s helping tha. -The Lord deliver tha from him, and all such like! I’d give my other hand -to save tha, for it’s a sad thing when a man loses his brass, but it’s a -sadder when he loses his soul!” - -There was a longer pause this time before he continued: - -“It ’ud be no good going up to see tha again. It’s turned ten, and -tha’ll be ower drunk, poor lad, to be talked to. I’d like to warn tha -again’ Inman, for it’s borne in on me ’at he’s working thi ruin o’ set -purpose, and maybe if we were to put wer heads together we could pull -through. I’d give aught for an hour’s talk wi’ tha, lad, i’ thi right -mind; but when drink’s in, wit’s out——” - -He continued in this strain until nearly midnight, and then went -sorrowfully to bed. - - - CHAPTER XIX - - IN WHICH THE BILL OF SALE IS COMPLETED - -THE golden moment passed and did not return. The next morning found -Baldwin ill and depressed, with a great craving for the bottle his weak -mind had forsworn the night before, and a foreboding that he had made a -fool of himself and an enemy of Inman. That crafty individual, however, -was in chastened mood and more than ordinarily patient and thoughtful. A -full whisky-bottle had replaced the empty one in the office cupboard; -but the foreman busied himself in the workshop and never turned his head -in that direction the whole day. Once, when a question was asked him -relating to some work that could not be completed for some considerable -time, he appeared to hesitate and referred the questioner to Mr. Briggs, -with the quiet explanation that he might have left before then; a remark -that infuriated the master, who called upon the devil to witness that he -did not know what Inman was talking about. - -During the morning Maniwel, who had tormented himself with reproaches -during the night, sent up word that he would like to speak with Baldwin, -who dictated the surly reply that he had no time to waste. Repulsed by -the master, Maniwel next turned to the man, and waylaid Inman the same -evening as he walked home from the hotel, to which he had now -transferred his custom. - -“I would like a word wi’ you, my lad,” he began with characteristic -directness, “about my old mate, Baldwin. It isn’t i’ t’ nature o’ things -’at you should be over friendly wi’ me, I know, but I can’t see a man -going down t’ hill as fast as Baldwin’s going without asking if there’s -naught can be done to steady him.” - -“And what gives me the honour of being picked out for your questions?” -Inman inquired with cold sarcasm. “Am I to understand ’at you think I’m -responsible, or what?” - -“I’ve said naught o’ t’ sort,” Maniwel replied gently. “Most o’ what -I’ve heard has been t’other way about, and they say you’ve done your -best to check him. I’ve lived long enough to know ’at a man’ll fly to t’ -bottle when he’s i’ trouble without help from nob’dy. Nay, it’s because -I hear he sets a deal o’ store by you, and’ll let you guide him when -he’ll listen to nob’dy else, ’at I thought I’d like to say ’at if there -was ought I could do——” - -“If you’ll give me a turn, old man,” Inman broke in with an icy passion -that told Maniwel there was nothing good to be expected there, “I’ll -save you any further waste o’ breath. Sanctimonious sermons are naught -i’ my line, and you’d do better to let charity begin at home and get -Jagger to hearken. He’ll happen tell you which o’ t’ Ten Commandments -he’s been breaking! - -“But there’s one thing I will say: if I’d been minded to put the brake -on before you spoke, and try to hold Baldwin back, I wouldn’t now—I’d -push him forward wi’ both hands sooner than give you pleasure, you -canting old humbug. So you can get back home and see what good your -damned interference has done your old mate!” - -He had advanced his face close to Maniwel’s as he hissed out the closing -words, but the action had not the effect he expected. - -“Then God forgi’e you, my lad!” said Maniwel sadly, “and save you from -having a man’s blood required at your hands. But I won’t believe aught -as bad of you; nobbut I’ll say this one thing: the devil’s a master that -pays poor wages, and when a man has his feet on t’ slippy road ’at leads -to t’ pit it doesn’t take both hands to push him forrad.” - -“I’ll keep my feet without your help, old man,” Inman replied -sneeringly, “but heark ye! I’ll bring you and your precious Jagger to -your knees yet; I’ll——” - -“That’s true, lad! and you couldn’t bring us to a better place.” There -was a half-humorous sternness in Maniwel’s voice now. “You and Baldwin -have brought me to my knees long sin’, and I shall get there again, I -warrant. More’n that neither you nor your master can do! But I’m sorry -if I’ve done harm where I meant good, and I leave it wi’ you.” - -Inman went straight to the office where Baldwin was seated with his -glass before him, and helped himself liberally. - -“The devil take all hypocrites!” he said. - -Baldwin’s brow twisted into a note of sullen interrogation. - -“Maniwel Drake wants me to get you to kneel at the penitent form,” he -explained. “I’ve just sent him home with a flea in his ear.” - -Baldwin’s voice was thick, but he was understood to consign Maniwel and -all his house to a place where fleas would lose their power to torment, -and he asked no further questions. - -October passed and with the garnering of the bracken harvest the last of -the summer feathered visitors took their leave of the moors and winter -residents arrived daily. A Saint Luke’s summer had brought a succession -of warm sunny days, which splashed the bramble leaves with wonderful -colourings of crimson and orange, and stained the leaves of Herb Robert -with the blood of the dying year. - -Nancy, pacing painfully her bedroom floor for a short time each day, -looked out upon the hills that were scorched to varied tints of copper -and gold, and drank in courage from the sight. Every evening a robin -came and sang for her before it turned in for the night. Once or twice -she had seen a woodcock frolicking in the dim light of early dawn and -had known by that sign that autumn had come. She would have given much -to be as free; but for her freedom was far behind, a mere dream, a -memory. She stretched out her arm and touched the sleeping infant—the -only link of the fetter she did not hate to contemplate—and wondered -what of solace or misery was wrapped up for her in that little bundle of -life. He had his father’s features; there was no mistaking the nose and -jaw; yet he was hers, and to bring him into the world she had almost -given her life. For his sake, she sometimes told herself, she had paid -an even bigger price, for she had fought against death. - -Inman hated her. How she knew it she could not have explained, for until -the boy came he had been always endurable though he spared her the -pretence of affection. The first time her eyes fell upon him after the -severity of the crisis was over, she knew that he hated her and that he -wished her to know it. Lazily, she had wondered what had happened to -effect the change when she had given him a son; but no disappointment -mixed with the curiosity, for her feeling towards him was colder and -more colourless than hatred, being just elementary indifference and -there was no fear, for the indifference extended to her own safety. - -It interested her to note that none of the women who visited her spoke -ill of her husband, though they referred to Baldwin’s downward course -with many a gloomy anticipation of quick disaster. Even Keturah appeared -to find him tolerable, and shared the general opinion that it was he who -kept the ship afloat, and would save it if salvation was still possible. -Nancy smiled and said nothing, waiting the development of events with a -strange incuriosity that was the result of her slack hold on life. - -Since the nurse’s departure Nancy and Keturah had slept together, and -except at meal times, whole days passed when husband and wife never saw -each other. Occasionally a day would end without the interchange of a -spoken word. She was therefore surprised when he entered the parlour one -evening in November when the two women were sitting together in the -firelight, and with an authoritative movement of the head bade Keturah -withdraw. - -“I suppose you don’t need to be told,” he said in a hard voice into -which he tried to impart sufficient warmth for his purpose, “that -Baldwin’s on his last legs?” - -“It’s what you’ve led me to expect,” she replied listlessly. - -“You take it coolly,” he replied with ill-suppressed irritation. - -“Why shouldn’t I?” she answered. “It’s what you’ve been looking for, -isn’t it?—what you’ve been working for?” - -He uttered an angry exclamation, and sat down beside her, putting his -face close to hers and speaking in a low voice. He was obviously holding -himself under restraint with some difficulty. - -“Listen!” he said. “I’m inclined to save him, if he can be saved. It’ll -come to the same thing in the end, but I see no other way of becoming -top dog than by giving him a lift for a few months. You wouldn’t -understand if I was to explain——” - -“Then tell me what you want of me,” she said wearily. “There’s something -you want me to do or you wouldn’t have come—I’ve wit enough to -understand that. It’s money, I suppose?” - -“It’s money,” he admitted sullenly; “but it isn’t money _you_ can lend. -You’re in with him already, and if the business fell to pieces you’d be -in no better position than any other creditor. They’d try their best to -make out ’at you were a partner——” - -“Now you’re explaining,” she interrupted with a smile, “and you’ve -already told me I shan’t understand.” - -He again made a gesture of impatience—and again controlled himself. - -“If _I_ could lend him the money it ’ud be different,” he went on. “He’d -give me what they call a bill of sale, and I should come in before the -other creditors when he crashed——” - -Nancy smiled, and the frown deepened on Inman’s face as he observed it. - -“Now we’re coming to it,” she said. “You want me to give _you_ a cheque, -I suppose?” - -He shook his head. “That wouldn’t do; it ’ud be too patent. Baldwin -thinks I’ve five hundred o’ my own—my life’s savings!” he added with a -short laugh, looking meaningly into Nancy’s face. - -She knew at once what he meant, though she had forgotten all about the -hidden store; but she purposely held her peace. - -“There’s that five hunderd in the bag,” he whispered. “It ’ud be better -out o’ the way. Nobody but us two knows it’s there, and it ’ud be gaol -for us both if they did——” - -“You want me to let you have it to lend Baldwin?” she asked. “You’re -welcome to it for aught I care, and him too.” - -It was the answer he had led up to; but the note of unconcern stirred -his anger. He knew why she was so listless; it was because Jagger was -lost to her, of course, and he added this to the list of memories that -he was keeping green for the hour of vengeance. - -With a curt acknowledgment he went away and sought his master. He would -have taken the money without his wife’s leave if it had seemed to be the -better course; but there was a certain satisfaction in making her -accessory to the fact—one never knew that it might not prove -convenient. Baldwin had swallowed his gruel at last, and the bill of -sale had been prepared and was in the safe. All that was necessary now -was to produce the money and complete the transaction, and for that -purpose a clerk from the lawyer’s office in Airlee was to attend the -next day. - -“It’ll be in gold,” he said to Baldwin, as he sat down in the spare -chair and half filled his glass with whisky and water. “Gold tells no -tales and leaves no traces, but it had best be banked sharp.” - -Baldwin looked up stupidly. - -“Who’re you learning their business?” he asked savagely. “Do you think I -was born in a frost?” - -“Of course not,” returned Inman humbly, for he was not to be caught off -his guard this time; “but it’s a lot o’ money to have lying about in -cash, and I should be easier in my mind to know it was banked before I -went to Hull.” - -Baldwin consigned man and gold to an entirely different port and Inman -refrained from further recommendations. - -During the night winter got a grip of the moor, and when morning came -the ground was hard and there was the promise of snow. A bitter wind was -blowing from the north, and Inman listened to its weird piping with -feelings of annoyance and apprehension that revealed themselves in an -air of thoughtfulness and a puckered brow. - -“Confound it all!” he muttered as he turned away from the window and -went downstairs. - -There was no one in the kitchen and after he had visited the sideboard -in the parlour and concealed a bottle beneath his coat, he passed out -and entered the shop, the door of which was unlocked, though it was too -early for any of the men to have arrived. When he reached the upper -floor the sound of stertorous breathing furnished the explanation—the -master had not been a-bed, and was sleeping off his drunken fit in the -office. Inman glanced at the unpleasant picture and then turned away -contemptuously. - -“You’ve finished the whisky, I see,” he muttered. “‘All for my-sen,’ as -usual! But I’ll return good for evil—you shall have a change this time. -You’ll want a friend before the day’s out.” Whereupon he opened his coat -and deposited the new bottle upon the shelf in the cupboard. - -Baldwin was far from sober when he awoke, and curtly refused his -breakfast; but he consented to drink the cup of coffee Inman brought -him, though not until a liberal measure of rum had been mixed with it. -After that he brightened, but had more sense than to attempt to leave -the office, and he had not moved from his chair when the lawyer’s clerk -arrived close on noon. - -The transaction was completed in a few minutes; the gold counted by -Baldwin and the clerk, and locked up in the safe. Then Inman drew -himself erect and threw back his shoulders, but seeing himself observed -by his master hid the satisfaction he felt, and said: - -“I wish it had been in a cheque; but I’ve had to gather it together from -here and there, you see. I want Mr. Briggs to take it over to Keepton -to-day and bank it, or else let me go earlier and break my journey.” - -He turned his eyes on his master as he spoke and contrived to allow a -doubt of Baldwin’s ability to journey anywhere appear in them. Instantly -there was a flash. - -“I daresay I can manage to mind my own business,” Mr. Briggs snapped. -“Some folks is a damned sight too ready to put their fillings in. If _I_ -take it I shall know where it is!” - -Mr. Jones laughed and Inman allowed himself to smile. - -“If you don’t get it in to-day, Mr. Briggs—though I think you’d do well -to take Mr. Inman’s advice—you’d better sleep with the safe key under -your pillow,” remarked the clerk facetiously. - -“I’m much obliged to both of you,” he replied with rising temper as he -saw the humour on both faces and interpreted it to his disadvantage. “I -can mebbe attend to my own business now ’at I reckon you’ll ha’ finished -yours.” - -Mr. Jones recognised his mistake and at once resumed his professional -air. - -“I am sure you can,” he said, as he closed his case and looked round for -his hat. “Lawyers think it necessary to caution their clients, but of -course, in your case it’s a mere formality. I wish you good-morning, Mr. -Briggs.” - -“Take him down to t’ pub and give him his dinner before he goes,” said -Baldwin, as he let his hand fall into the one the clerk proffered him. - -“A cold spot this!” said Mr. Jones as the two walked down the street. -“Feels like snow, too; and, by Jove, looks like it!” - -Inman grunted assent. The sky was leaden-coloured, and a few light -flakes had already fallen, as he knew. - -“I hope it holds off. I’ve to travel to Hull through the night,” he -said. “We’ve opened a new account there that’ll make us independent of -these local fellows who’ve cut up so rough.” - -“Why the dickens must you go through the night, this weather? Won’t it -run to an hotel bill?” Mr. Jones inquired. - -“You’ve hit it exactly,” Inman replied caustically. “Mr. Briggs doesn’t -believe in his men wasting either time or money.” - -“Will he pull through now?” the clerk asked, lowering his voice to a -confidential whisper. - -“If he keeps off the drink—yes,” replied Inman. “That’s my only -anxiety. It wouldn’t surprise me to find the money still in the safe -when I get back.” - -“Well, it won’t run away,” laughed the other, and Inman shrugged his -shoulders. - -“If he wasn’t too fuddled to do it, _he_ might,” he answered. - -They parted at the door of the hotel and Inman returned slowly to the -shop with his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the ground. There was no spring -in his step, no brighter light in his eye, but rather a look of -increased anxiety. With some men the effort to over-reach and cheat -their fellows is such an ordinary and natural act that its successful -accomplishment affords them no more than an ordinary and unemotional -satisfaction, allowing no exhilaration of spirit or relaxation of -strain. Inman was of this number, and now that he had reached this -advanced point in the ascent of the difficult Hill of Fortune he found -his only pleasure in forming his plans for the conquest of the summit -and bending his energies to the final struggle. - -He entered the office to find Baldwin asleep again, and without saying a -word to the men who turned away their heads significantly when he -glanced in their direction he went downstairs and sought Keturah. - -“Is Nancy about?” he asked. - -“Nay, she’s one of her bad girds on, and is lying down,” she replied. - -“Mr. Briggs hasn’t been down to his dinner, I suppose?” he inquired more -mildly than was his wont. - -“What we’re all coming to I don’t know,” she replied, ignoring the -direct question; “but I see naught before us but t’ poor-house”; and she -threw her apron over her head and gave way to tears. - -Inman had never treated her less roughly. “Keturah,” he said, “put your -apron down and listen to me. I’m not one to shove my worries on to other -folks, and particularly on to women, but I’m in the devil of a hole, and -you’re Baldwin’s sister. If I wasn’t going to be away for a day or two I -wouldn’t trouble you; but what am I to do? Now can you follow me?” - -The quietness of his voice calmed and yet frightened her, as bullying -would never have done; and she turned her worn face to his and bade him -proceed. - -“You’re right about the poor-house,” he said with an emphasis that -struck a chill to the woman’s heart; “and I’m beginning to wonder if I -can save you from it. I’ve lent him five hundred pounds of my own -savings this morning, which he knows ought to go to the bank this -afternoon, and he’s too drunk to take it.” - -“Eh, dear! eh, dear!” Keturah sank into a chair and began to sob, but -Inman checked her. - -“Stop that baby work! If Nancy was able to go about she’d act for me, -but as she isn’t there is only you.” - -“Aye, more’s the pity!” wailed Keturah. “Nancy’s more in her nor me, and -’ud know what to do.” - -“I’m going to tell you what to do,” Inman replied firmly. “You must get -him to bed to-night at all costs and keep the drink away from him. -There’s no more in the cupboard and no one must fetch him any. If he’s -allowed to sleep in his chair again it’s a thousand to one he chokes. I -don’t want to alarm you, but it’s a fact that his face was blue when I -roused him this morning.” - -“The Lord save us!” ejaculated Keturah, “and you going to be away all t’ -night!” - -“Get him to bed,” continued Inman, “and you’ll be able to talk to him -to-morrow morning. Then you must tell him that I left word that he was -not to forget the bank. You’ll remember!” - -Keturah sighed and clasped her hands helplessly. - -“Aye, I’ll think on hard enough, but what am I to do if he won’t come? I -can’t lug him in!” - -“I’ve thought of that,” Inman replied, and his unaccustomed gentleness -gave Keturah the first ray of hope she had had for many a day. “I’ll see -him last thing and try to get him in; but if I fail, and he doesn’t come -of his own accord by bedtime, you must get the men to carry him in and -lay him down. We mustn’t have him die in the office.” - -“The Lord help us!” Keturah wailed again; “to think it’s come to this -pass, and him ’at never used to touch t’ stuff. Eh, dear! I’m sure it’s -enough to drive a woman off her head!” - -Inman said nothing and she saw him no more until he came in for his tea, -when his face was still gloomy. - -“I’ve done my best,” he said, “but he won’t budge. However, the booze is -all done and I’ve put the lamp and matches out of his way. In another -hour or two he’ll either be more reasonable or too drunk to know what’s -happening, and you can then have him carried in. I’ve mentioned it to -Frank and he’ll step round about nine.” - -It was after six when he left the house and was driven off to catch the -slow train for Airlee, where he would have to spend two or three hours -before the mail left for Hull. During the long drive he spoke only once -to the stable boy who drove him, when he remarked that it was a wild, -black night and would snow before morning. - -“Ending up wi’ ‘Damn it!’” the youthful Jehu remarked to the equally -youthful porter at the station, as the two watched the train bear Inman -away. “I’d as soon drive Old Nick his-self as yon!” - -Meantime, no sooner had the lights of the trap disappeared round the -bend in the road than Keturah made her way to Nancy and reported the -position of affairs. - -“Run across and ask Hannah to come!” said Nancy. - -“Aye, t’ cat’s away, is it?” commented Keturah. “However, I’ve no -objection, I’m sure. We can do wi’ somebody i’ t’ house ’at has a -headpiece on her shoulders!” - - - CHAPTER XX - - IN WHICH THERE IS A SENSATIONAL ROBBERY - -BALDWIN woke at the hour custom had made mechanical and lay for a -while trying to recollect how he had got to bed. As a matter of fact he -had stumbled indoors of his own accord during the evening, and had made -his way upstairs without asking for supper; so that when Frank came -round there had been no need for his services, and in the relief both -experienced neither he nor Keturah had thought of examining the workshop -door, which was consequently left unlocked. - -With her mind eased of this anxiety Keturah had slept soundly and only -Nancy knew with what force the wind had swept down from the moor. It had -been so strong that she had been compelled to rise before midnight and -close her window, after which she fell asleep for an hour or two. When -she next woke the panes were covered with snow, and the storm was still -raging. By the time Keturah went downstairs the gale had abated but snow -was still falling heavily and lay several inches thick upon the roadway. - -It was not until they were seated together at breakfast that Keturah -ventured to deliver herself of Inman’s reminder. Baldwin was morose, but -not unusually so, and he merely growled the reply that when he wanted a -woman to nurse him he’d let her know, whereupon Keturah subsided, well -content to have come off so lightly. Ten minutes later he returned to -the shop, and within a quarter-hour staggered home again, his face the -colour of ashes. - -“Robbed!” he gasped as he sank into a chair and let his hands fall to -his sides. He was the picture of hopeless despair, and his head sank -upon his breast as though every muscle had lost its power to serve. -“Robbed!” he groaned again. “T’ safe prised open and every penny ta’en! -Every penny! Every penny!” - -In the moment of his utter wretchedness he forgot to swear, and could -only groan; but as Keturah screamed and put her hand to her side he -raised his head and looked at her. - -“Every penny, Keturah!” he groaned, holding out his trembling arms to -his sister like a troubled child who seeks the refuge of its mother’s -breast. “They’ve robbed me of every penny! Five hunderd golden -sovereigns gone—clean gone!” - -Roused by the shrill scream Nancy came downstairs. The sense of what -seemed to Keturah an overwhelming disaster had wiped out all the -antipathies of past weeks and dried up tears and reproaches alike, and -she was kneeling on the rug with her arm on her brother’s shoulders, -crooning into ears that were deaf to all she said, meaningless -assurances that all would yet be well. - -Baldwin’s face showed that he was insensible to all that was passing and -conscious only of one great fact. - -“Robbed, lass!” he repeated, gazing vacantly into Nancy’s eyes. “Every -penny’s ta’en——!” - -Nancy waited for nothing more; but hastened into the shop, and finding -that the men assembled there knew nothing, despatched Frank for the -policeman. - -The “Packhorse” was uncomfortably full that evening but nobody -complained of inconvenience or overcrowding, though there were those -there whose faces were seldom seen in that company, and some who had -walked through deep snowdrifts and past other houses of entertainment in -order to be present. Albert was doing a roaring trade but found time to -drop an observation from time to time as he moved about. - -“In Hull, you say?” Swithin inquired. “And what time might he ha’ gone -to Hull?” - -“Our Jackie drave him down for t’ eight train,” the speaker replied, -“and wor fain to see t’ last on him, for he wor as glum as a slug all t’ -road, and never gave t’ lad a copper for his-sen, same as most of ’em -does.” - -“And they sent him a telegraph to come back, say ye?” pursued Swithin -whose duties had kept him out of the village all day so that he had some -leeway to make up. - -“Before ten i’ t’ morning,” another volunteered. “Our Frank handed it -in. ’E were to ’ave ’elped to get Baldwin to bed by Inman’s orders, if -so be ’at ’e ’adn’t been able to ’elp ’is-self. ’Owsomever ’e’d getten -to bed when Frank got there; an’ seemin’ly ’e ’adn’t locked t’ shop -door; but that wor nowt out o’ t’ common, an’ nob’dy noticed nowt amiss -till Baldwin went to t’ safe—” - -“Aye, aye, we’ve heard that before,” Swithin broke in. “We know ’at t’ -safe worn’t locked for all there wor five hunderd pound in it and at t’ -drawer wor prized oppen—it’s Inman’s doings I’m wanting to get at.” - -“’E wired back by eleven,” the other went on, “but he couldn’t get here -afore five. They stopped t’ Scotchman for him, same as he’d been t’ -squire his-self, and t’ inspector wor waitin’ down at t’ station wi’ a -motor-car. Ah seed ’em pass my-self, an’ no notice ta’en o’ speed-limits -seemin’ly.” - -Swithin’s eyes rested on the speaker with such concentration that the -man became uneasy and Ambrose noticed it. - -“Tha’s no ’casion to fidget, lad,” he piped; “Swith’n noan suspicions -thee o’ steylin’ t’ brass; but he’s a fearful cute hand at puttin’ two -an’ two together, when he sets his-sen, and he’s seein’ summat ’at’s hid -from ordinary een. It’s a gift wi’ some men. A far-seein’ man was his -fayther afore him, as noan on ye’ll recollect; but Swith’n’s as like him -as if he’d been spit out of his mouth.” - -“What I see and what I say, Ambrus, is two different things,” returned -Swithin who was obviously pleased by the old man’s compliment. “There’s -a time to speak your thoughts and a time to bottle ’em; but what I’ve -seen I’ve seen, let any man deny it ’at will.” - -He looked round at the company defiantly; but meeting with nothing that -could be regarded as a challenge: indeed with nothing but eager -interest, he first lifted his pot to his lips and then continued, with -his eyes on Ambrose. - -“Two and two together I _can_ put, Ambrus; but when it’s two and a nowt, -where are you then? If Inman hadn’t ha’ been i’ Hull mebbe I’d ha’ had -summat to say ’at ’ud ha’ made some folks’ hair stand on end; but seeing -as he _wor_ in Hull there’s an end on’t.” - -With this enigmatical statement he returned to his ale, and Ambrose -signalled to the company to keep silence. - -“He’s in labour, as you may put it,” he whispered confidentially to his -neighbour; “and mun hev his time.” - -Whether or no this remark helped to speedy parturition may not be easily -determined; but at any rate Swithin was at that moment delivered; and -after looking round to make sure that he had the ears of all present -said, in the formal voice of a constable who is giving evidence on -oath— - -“It was t’ards midnight, or mebbe a piece after, ’at I turned out o’ t’ -shippen i’ t’ long close to straighten my back and get a breath o’ air. -Crumple wor late wi’ her cawving, and I dursn’t leave her for more’n a -minute or two at a time; but straighten my back I felt I must, and so -stood at t’ door. - -“It wor black as coal, an’ a gale o’ wind blowing fit to shift t’ -shippen into t’ beck, but I reckoned nowt o’ that so long as t’ snaw -held off; and wor just about to turn in again when a heap o’ stones came -tumbling down off o’ t’ wall not five yards away. - -“‘That’s nowt!’ ye’ll say; ‘a strong breeze’ll oft fetch a dry wall -down’, and that I’ll take tul; but a strong breeze doesn’t say ‘Damn -it!’—no, not t’ strongest breeze ’at ’ivver blew over Mawm!” - -He paused, whilst his eyes slowly swept the company to see what effect -this communication had produced, but when two or three voices broke in -with questions he raised his hand in deprecation and continued— - -“Not knowing who it mud be ’at was prowling round t’ shippen at that -time o’ night I stepped inside for a fork; but I nayther saw nor heard -naught no more though I searched round wi’ t’ lantern. A piece after, -Crumple’s time come, and I’d summat else to do nor think o’ boggarts.” - -Nobody spoke, though there was now ample opportunity, and when Albert -had replenished his pot Swithin fixed his eyes on Ambrose and said— - -“Now if any man among t’ lot of ye can put two and two together, ye’re -welcome; but I call it two and a nowt.” - -“There’s nob’dy i’ this neighbourhood, Swith’n,” returned the old man, -“but what’s as well-known to ye as soil to t’ sexton—are ye tellin’ us -’at ye couldn’t reckernize t’ voice?” - -“I _thought_ I reckernized t’ voice, Ambrus, but I wor mista’en; and -that’s why i’stead o’ putting two and two together I call it two and a -nowt. More’n that I won’t say.” - -“But whoever t’ chap was,” said Albert, “he were a long way wide o’ -Baldwin’s shop if he were i’ t’ long close. A fellow running away wi’ -brass in his pocket ’ud be on t’ road to nowhere down there; whereas if -a tramp were coming from t’ Gordel end—from Girston, happen—he’d mebbe -be tempted to cut across t’ fields to save a mile or so on his way to t’ -main road. Or, as like as not, he was for finding a bed i’ t’ shippen, -till he saw t’ glimmer o’ your lantern.” - -This commonplace solution of the mystery, whilst it pleased none of the -company whose thirst for sensation was even greater than that for -liquor, offended Swithin, who took refuge in silence after he had -remarked that there were evidently those present who could put two and -two together to their own satisfaction though, thank God, every man had -a right to his own thoughts. - -“If you ask me,” Jack Pearce broke in with some heat, “I don’t believe -there’s been any robbery. Where’s Inman got his five hunderd quid from? -‘Had it by him,’ they say; as if folks kept bags o’ gold i’ t’ long -drawer wi’ their spare shirts! It’s ridic’lous! and naught but a put-up -job, to my thinking!” - -All eyes now fixed themselves upon the young man whose flushed face -revealed the angry state of his feelings; but it was a cold and even -hostile gaze, for thrills were uncommon experiences in Mawm, and to be -robbed of one of this magnitude was an unfriendly act, on a par with -that which they were gathered to discuss. Jack felt this and stood upon -his defence. - -“He’s as cute and slippy as the Old Lad himself, is Inman, and I’ll bet -my last dollar it’s all a made up dodge to gain a bit o’ time for -Baldwin. Who’s seen t’ colour o’ t’ brass, I’d like to know? He lives by -his wits, does Inman, more’n by joinering.” - -“Whisht, lad! Whisht!” said the landlord, who alone had any sympathy for -the hot-tempered youth. “You may think what you like but you mustn’t -speak it out loud, for t’law’s again’ it!” - -“Tha’s getten thi knife into Inman,” said Frank’s father, “and we all -know why. He’s no friend o’ any of us ’at I know on, but they aren’t all -thieves ’at dogs bark at, and choose where he got t’ brass from, get it -he did, for our Frank not only ’eard t’ chink on’t, but saw it wi’ his -own eyes. Aye, and I’ll tell you more—he saw it after Inman had gone -and so did t’others, for they pept through a crack i’ t’ boards and saw -Baldwin bring it out o’ t’ safe and frame to count it, but he were ower -far gone, and so put it back.” - -“Then I’m glad I don’t work for Baldwin,” said Jack sullenly, and with a -significance there was no mistaking. - -“And so you may be,” continued the other. “But Frank’s tell’d t’ police -all he knows, and they don’t suspicion any o’ t’ men—anyway they’ve -found nowt so far to warrant owt o’ t’ sort.” - -“Well, come now,” said the landlord, who was anxious to prevent the -conversation from becoming acrimonious; “Jack meant naught wrong, so -there’s no harm done. And as to any i’ t’ village having ta’en t’ brass -I’d pledge my living again’ it. I make no charge again’ nob’dy, but -there was a stranger having a snack in t’ ‘Royal’ at same time as Inman -and t’ lawyer, and whether or no they dropped ought ’at they shouldn’t -isn’t to be known; but as Swithin says, we’ve a right to wer own -thoughts.” - -Conversation at this point became general as each man advanced a theory -based upon the information that had been given, or asked a question of -his neighbour preparatory to forming one. Silence, however, fell upon -the company again when during a lull Ambrose was heard to say— - -“—and, if so be as they don’t lay their hands on t’ thief and get hold -o’ t’ brass, it’s like to go hard wi’ Baldwin, for if all’s trew ’at’s -tell’d, he wor at t’ last gasp, as you may put it, and could get no more -credit. I’m flayed t’ ship’ll land on t’ ass-midden this time, Swith’n.” - -“That’s a trew word, Ambrus,” the other replied, “and if so be as Inman -lands alongside him I don’t know ’at there’ll be any pity wasted. Not -but what he’s worked hard for Baldwin, for you mun give t’ devil his -due; and for a man to lose t’ lump, and be beggared as you may say, all -in a minute, is broth ’at none of us ’ud like to sup.” - -“And do you mean to tell me,” Jack exclaimed with a return of temper, -“’at Inman’ll have lent all this brass and not be covered for’t?” He -snapped his fingers contemptuously, as he asked the question. “You can -tell that tale to t’ infant-class! What was it Ambrose said, not above a -month back, when Inman caught his breeches on that nail i’ Jane -Wilki’son’s gateway and made her pay t’ price of a new pair, ommost; and -her a widow? I ask you, what did Ambrose say? Wasn’t it, ’at he’d nails -’at ’ud scratch his grannie out of her grave? And d’you think a man like -that’ll put down a penny and not pick up tuppence? He’s no such blamed -fool!” - -The sense of the company was with Jack this time, and even Swithin had -nothing to say in reply. As for Ambrose, the quotation from his past -pronouncement tickled his vanity, and he nodded his head approvingly as -he remarked:— - -“I did say it, lad, though it had slipped my mem’ry. There wor a time -when I wor full o’ wise sayin’s o’ that sort, and took a pleasure i’ -shapin’ ’em; but I’ve getten ower old now and it’s only odd ’uns that -come back to me. A robbery now ’ud ha’ been a godsend when I wor i’ my -gifted prime; but we’d nowt o’ that sort—nowt nobbut a toathri apples -missin’ and t’ like o’ that, ’at wor just marlackin’, as you mud say. -But it’s gettin’ late, neebours; and I’m a bit shakken wi’ what we’ve -been going’ through. I’ll be shapin’ for home.” - - - CHAPTER XXI - - IN WHICH EVENTS MOVE QUICKLY - -WHEN Inman entered the kitchen and saw Baldwin seated in his chair -upon the hearth—a whipped, miserable dog with no spirit left in -him—his anger blazed forth with such sudden fierceness that the -inspector, who had found him cool and level-headed as they discussed the -disaster on the journey home, opened his eyes in amazement; and the -detective, a shrewd, kindly-looking man with little of the official -about him, observed the newcomer with keen professional interest. - -Sobered and at the same time stunned by the magnitude of the disaster -that had overtaken him, Baldwin had remained all day in his chair upon -the hearth, oblivious for the most part to what was taking place around -him, and requiring to be roused like a dazed and drunken man when the -police plied him with questions. - -Neither food nor drink had passed his lips since breakfast, though -Nancy’s heart had softened at sight of his dejection and she had made -him a cup of tea, and set it upon the grate at his side. It was there -still, untouched, an hour later, and Nancy sat and watched him, with her -baby on her knee, too humane and sympathetic to return to her room and -leave Keturah to face the trouble alone, for though the older woman’s -eyes were now dry they were red and swollen with the waters that had -passed over them before the fountain became exhausted. - -At first sight of the pitiable, abject figure a black scowl leaped to -Inman’s brow and he crossed over to the rug and in a voice of -carefully-suppressed passion exclaimed: - -“So this is what comes of your whisky-drinking, you drunken brute! -You’ve ruined me as well as yourself; foul-mouthed devil that you are!” - -Baldwin raised his eyes but there was no sense of fear or resentment to -be seen in them, only hopeless misery. He was too utterly prostrated, -too benumbed by this culminating stroke of fate to feel the lash of -Inman’s tongue, much less to writhe under it, and all he could say was: - -“Every penny ta’en! Every penny!” - -“And whose fault is that?” Inman almost hissed. “Whose fault is it that -it wasn’t banked yesterday? Didn’t I warn you? Didn’t Jones? But you -were master and I was man, and there was that cursed bottle of rum to -finish! It serves me right for being fool enough to lend my money to a -drunken sot like you. I might as well have dropped three hundred pounds -down the drain, for your miserable bits o’ scrap metal’ll never fetch -two hundred!” - -“Who’s ta’en it, I can’t think,” the other soliloquised wearily with his -eyes on Inman; “but every penny’s gone!” - -Inman turned away with an impatient exclamation, and seeing the -detective, growled an apology for his outburst. - -The man with the keen, kindly eyes was looking on him with what appeared -to be mild curiosity. - -“I should like a few words with you in the office,” he said, and the -three men left the house. - -“Yon man hasn’t much to learn from you and me, Harker,” said the -inspector, as the two officials motored back to headquarters a couple of -hours later. “The way he pumped those two women would have done credit -to a K.C.; and as for the old man—there won’t be much blood left in -him, I fancy, when that chap’s finished squeezing.” - -“It strikes me _we’ve_ a deal to learn from this manager, or what he -calls himself,” said Mr. Harker dryly. He had made very few remarks so -far, though he had asked many questions. - -“He’s evidently inclined to suspect this young fellow with the peculiar -handle to his name,” continued the inspector. - -“Or, anyhow, very anxious that other people should suspect him!” From -Mr. Harker’s caustic tone it was easy to infer that Inman’s zeal had -left no favourable impression. “But he’s wasting his powder and shot. -The two men aren’t on good terms. Inman married this Jagger Drake’s -sweetheart, and it hasn’t turned out a love match, I understand. Since -then Jagger has thrashed our friend, and he’s still sore about it. -There’s more life in a hole like this than most folk think, Martin. All -the same, Jagger Drake hasn’t helped himself to this swag!” - -It was evident that Detective Harker had been making good use of his -opportunities. - -“Have you formed a theory?” - -“Not a workable one, so far. To be quite frank, I could think the -business had been cooked, but I can’t at present see why or how. If I’m -right there’s only one man who can throw light on the subject, and he -won’t.” - -“Meaning Inman?” The inspector’s voice betrayed quite as much scepticism -as interest. - -“That man is one of the finest actors I’ve ever met,” the detective -answered quietly. “I should have suspected collusion between him and his -master; but that’s out of the question—the old man is no actor. This -job interests me, but it’ll have to be worked carefully. He’s a smart -man who’s helped himself to this rhino, whoever he is. I expect his -smartness’ll trip him up if we give him time.” - -“They’re all a lot o’ bungling idiots,” Inman remarked to Nancy as the -car moved away. “They see what you tell ’em and what can’t be missed. -That Harker is half asleep. I suggested a Scotland Yard man to the -inspector, but he seemed huffed, so I dropped it.” - -His tone was surly, but Nancy distinguished another note in it that she -did not quite understand; something between satisfaction and relief or a -mixture of both; something infinitely less harsh than she had expected. -She had been bracing herself for an angry encounter with her husband, -for there had been no mistaking the look he shot her when his minute -inquiries elicited the information that Hannah had spent the evening -with her. It had been a silent promissory-note for settlement at the -earliest opportunity, and had been accepted as such. Now that the -favourable moment had come, she was surprised and also relieved to find -that her husband’s mood had changed. - -Inman had not forgotten, but it was his constant fate to be compelled by -considerations of what was prudent in his own interests to defer the -settlements from which he promised himself so much satisfaction. To hurt -his wife and through her sufferings to cut her lover to the quick was -one of the two absorbing passions that occupied his thoughts by day and -night. But when he was about to strike, self-interest always held his -arm. He had been sorely vexed that hitherto his threat to injure Jagger -had come to naught; it humiliated him to think that his rival was -laughing in his sleeve at the emptiness of the warning; but what could -he do so long as the two passions were at variance? Nancy held the purse -and the purse was deep. Until that had changed hands he was not master -of the situation; revenge must be deferred. - -It may be questioned whether the prospect of vengeance does not afford -as great satisfaction as its accomplishment; it is at any rate certain -that Inman’s soul nourished itself upon foretastes and that the kindlier -note in his voice was the traitorous servant of his ill-intent. - -There was a fire in the parlour and he took Nancy there, bidding Keturah -get Baldwin off to bed. The baby was sleeping on the sofa, and Inman -closed the door and stood with his back to the mantelpiece. - -“What the deuce made you tell Hannah about the money?” he began. “I -should have expected you to have more sense.” - -“I didn’t; she told me!” Nancy looked up from her sewing to see what -effect the denial had upon her husband. - -“She told you!” The voice was incredulous, yet in spite of himself he -believed her, knowing that Nancy would never purchase pardon with a lie. - -“All the village knew it,” she repeated quietly. - -He stared at the head that was bent down again upon her work, and turned -over this new information in his mind. - -“Then the devil must have been playing with the brass whilst I was at -the ‘Royal’!” - -She said neither yes nor no, and his mouth tightened. He would have -liked to seize her by the shoulders and shake her out of her cold -complacency. The entire absence of any sense of fear, of any -apprehension of danger, stung him almost beyond his power of endurance; -but once again the stronger passion of greed held him in check. - -“Haven’t they found any clue?” Nancy asked, when there had been silence -between them for some moments. - -“_They_ haven’t,” he answered suggestively. “They haven’t an idea -between them. A set o’ wooden skittles, bowled over by any bungling -prentice that tries his hand at burglary—that’s what _they_ are. What -clue there is they won’t see when it’s pointed out to ’em. At any rate, -that fool of a detective won’t.” - -“Then there _is_ a clue?” she asked, and the hot blood rushed to her -cheeks the more violently when she tried to restrain it. Her quick wit -told her that it was Jagger whom he suspected; and indignant words were -not far from her lips when her husband spoke. - -“Whatever I think I’m not thinking out loud. If I hadn’t had so much -sense before, what’s just happened ’ud have taught me. Somebody who knew -it was there took it, that’s clear enough; and there are certain people -who are going to be watched.” - -She was very angry, yet common-sense came to her help and warned her -that she would do well to restrain herself. After all, Jagger would -easily free himself of such a ridiculous suspicion; and for her to show -resentment would do him no good. - -Inman guessed what was passing in his wife’s mind and added the incident -to the other stored-up memories which rankled in his mind and punished -him sorely; but for the moment nothing but gentleness could serve his -purpose, and he went on in a softer tone. - -“Let it drop, lass. If I’m wronging anybody in my thoughts it’ll do ’em -no harm. There may be naught in it, but it’s my duty to you as well as -myself to look round and try to find a key ’at’ll fit t’ lock. - -“But we’ll put it o’ one side; there’s other things have to be thought -about, and you and me’ll have to make our minds up. Baldwin’ll be made -bankrupt, that’s certain, but the shop’s yours, and the machinery’ll be -mine—ours, I should say; what are we going to do about it?” - -She glanced up questioningly. This tone of sympathetic plain speaking -appealed to the best in her nature and partially deceived her. Like a -flash the suggestion presented itself that life with this man need not -after all be the intolerable burden she had feared, even though love -might be wanting; that she had perhaps mistaken anxiety for coldness and -absence of mind for callousness. - -“Is it too late to save him?” she asked. - -She looked up quickly as she spoke, and the sight of her husband’s face -dismissed at once all her mocking fancies. - -“To save——?” Inman’s mouth opened in astonishment; but immediately -took on curves of disdain as he replied: - -“Don’t talk like a fool, Nancy! We’ve thrown enough into that muck-heap, -and now we’ve got to think about ourselves. Baldwin wouldn’t have -considered twice about sending you to the devil—let him go there -himself! He’ll be made bankrupt, I tell you, and there won’t be more’n a -few shillings in the pound for his creditors. The question is, am I to -take the business over, or what?” - -He played with his silver watch-chain, waiting for an answer, but not -looking into his wife’s face, and Nancy speedily made up her mind. - -For better or worse she had tied herself to the man, and whatever his -qualities as a husband, there could be no question of his business -ability. If she were to thwart him by withholding her money, what -purpose would she serve? Would she not indeed be sowing for herself the -seeds of certain trouble? The more time her husband devoted to business -the less there would be to spend with her. Let the machinery be kept -running there, and the wheels of their domestic life would probably run -smoothly. - -“I don’t doubt but what you’ll make things hum,” she said, and although -there was no enthusiasm in the tone, a look of satisfaction came into -Inman’s eyes as he recognised the implication of the tense she had -employed. - -“Lend me the money,” he replied, “and I’ll make this the best country -business in Craven. I’ll——But it’s no use dreaming dreams; I’ve -thought this thing out and I know what I can do. I can make you rich in -a few years, Nancy!” - -“Can you?” Nancy had better have withheld the exclamation or have -uttered it with less meaning, for its weary note told a story with which -Inman was already too familiar; but the contraction of brow was only -momentary, and he forced himself to laugh. - -“Never mind! You shall see! And you shall have five per cent. for pin -money as we go along.” - -Nancy smiled, not realising what damage that runaway sigh had done her, -not suspecting the volcanic anger that was hidden beneath her husband’s -smooth words. - -“Do as you like,” she said. “Leave me a couple of hundreds in the bank -and you can have the rest.” - -It was better than he had expected, but he veiled his gratification and -appeared to hesitate. - -“I shall be able to manage,” he said finally. “I should like to launch -out, but we’ll talk it over again when I’ve had a chat with the bank -manager. It ’ud pay you to sell your investments; but there’s always the -property for additional security, of course. Besides, I’m not captain -yet. Baldwin’s still on the bridge.” - -He laughed and stretched himself. Nancy wondered if he would kiss her if -only on the forehead, as he had been wont to do when she had happened to -please him, though not since his child had come. She half hoped he would -not; yet when he left the room with no word of farewell her spirits -sank. - -“He _does_ hate me,” she said to herself. “Well, after all, it makes no -difference. We must live as well as we can!” - -A month later the business became Inman’s. He had not spared his master -in the evidence he had been called upon to give, and Baldwin had been -severely lectured by Registrar, Official Receiver and various crabbed -lawyers, each of whom was at pains to point out that by refusing to take -the advice of such a counsellor as his foreman—a counsellor, who, as -the Official Receiver remarked, had been a veritable -god-out-of-the-machine if Baldwin had not been too pig-headed and -intemperate to make use of him—he had brought himself and his creditors -into this unenviable position. The Registrar complimented Inman on his -devotion to duty and expressed his sympathy with him in the loss of so -much of his savings. It was true, he said, that bills of sale were not -regarded with favour by the Court, but he quite recognised that in this -case it had been regarded more or less as a formality, and the readiest, -if not the only method of partially securing the loan. - -Baldwin, too broken already on the wheel of fortune to suffer any -further pain from the hard blow he received, left the Court an -undischarged bankrupt, and Inman by arrangement with the Official -Receiver, obtained the goodwill of the business at a merely nominal -figure, and the goodwill of the unsecured creditors for nothing at all. - -It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve before the last formality was -completed that left Inman master of the wrecked ship, and he hurried -home to deal promptly with his predecessor. - -The evening meal was being cleared away when he got down from the trap -in which he had been driven from the station and strode into the -kitchen. Nancy rose in order to brew some fresh tea, and he recognised -her purpose. - -“Sit still, Nancy,” he said. There was a changed note in his voice that -only Baldwin failed to recognise. “Keturah’ll have to work for her -living if she stops on here, and there’s no need for my wife to bark if -we keep a dog. Get up, Keturah, and mash my tea.” - -“I’ll make it myself, James,” said Nancy, as Keturah seemed paralysed by -this unexpected attack; but Inman bade her be seated. - -“Keturah’ll either do as she’s told,” he said, with an ugly look about -his mouth and an ominous glitter in his eyes; “or she’ll find fresh -lodgings along with her brother. Baldwin leaves here to-night, and I’m -not very particular if Keturah goes with him—they’ve both eaten the -bread o’ idleness long enough at my expense. You needn’t open your -mouth, Nancy,” he went on with a rough composure that was more -discomfiting than anger. “I’m master here, and master I’m going to be. -Keturah can stop, I say, if she likes, and I’ll pay her wages; but she -stops as servant. There’ll be no more whining and crying about ‘fine -ladies’—I’ll see to that. Baldwin finds fresh quarters and finds ’em -to-night. I’ve no use for him.” - -Keturah’s apron was over her face by this time, but harsh words and hard -looks put new spirit into Baldwin, who for the first time in all these -weeks rose to his feet in a passion and called to his help the oaths he -had neglected in his dejection. - -It was to no purpose. Inman pushed him from him with a rough touch that -was almost a blow. - -“Carry your dirty talk outside, you hound!” he said. Then with a sneer -that disfigured his face, he added: “I’ve taken over your motto with the -business, Baldwin—‘all for my-sen.’ Both the motto and the business are -good, but they’ve got to be worked with gumption, d’you see? And they’re -going to be. You’re in my way now, and you’ve got to get out. I’m going -to do by you what you’d ha’ done by me. Does that get past your thick -skull?” - -Keturah was wailing aloud, and he turned on her fiercely and bade her be -silent. Nancy, white, and with lips tightly compressed, was gripping the -sides of her chair, her eyes fixed on her husband, her brain busily -employed in considering what was best to be done, and reaching no -conclusion. - -Baldwin’s rebellion had been a mere gust, and the storm subsided as -quickly as it had arisen. - -“Where can I go?” he faltered, as he looked dully into the eyes that -were turned contemptuously upon him. - -“To hell—or the Union! Who else’ll have you?” - -“James!” Nancy faced her husband with hot indignation flashing from the -eyes that looked fearlessly into his. “How can you say such things, and -on Christmas Eve, too! You’ve punished him enough—only a brute ’ud kick -a man so hard when he’s down!” - -She turned to Baldwin, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Take -no notice of him,” said she soothingly. “He doesn’t mean it! He’s just -getting a bit of his own back!” - -“Don’t I?” said her husband, as he disengaged her hand with a grip that -hurt. “I’ll show you whether I mean it or not. Get away to the other -baby and leave the brute to his work—get away, I say!” - -She had clenched her free fist and beaten the hand that held her; but -she was powerless, and he raised her from her feet and almost flung her -into the parlour. - -“I’m master here,” he said. “There isn’t room for two. You’d better shut -yourself in for your own comfort.” - -A little while later Baldwin knocked timidly at Maniwel’s door. - - - CHAPTER XXII - - IN WHICH BALDWIN FINDS NEW LODGINGS - -THE cottage by the bridge contrasted strongly with Nancy’s home. Two -or three gaily coloured mottoes suitable to the season had been tacked -to the wall, and a couple of attractive almanacks recently distributed -by enterprising tradesmen in advance of the New Year, bore them company, -and diverted attention from the framed funeral cards which grannie -regarded with an owner’s mournful pride, and Hannah with an impatient -contempt that was manifested every time she dusted them. Sprigs of -holly, bright with scarlet berries, peeped from the vases on the -mantelpiece, lay between the plates and dishes on the rack above the -dresser, and were wreathed about the faded face of the grandfather’s -clock in the corner. Grandfather’s? Great-great-grandfather’s, grannie -would have told you, for it had ticked away in her grandsire’s time, and -even then the cow upon the dial (which was now a mere ghost of a cow, -and a badly dismembered ghost, too!) was losing its horns and tail. -There were other sprigs upon the window-ledge but these could not be -seen because the blind was drawn. There was, however, no mistletoe, for -Hannah was thirty-one and the “baleful plant” was among the childish -things she had put away. - -Because it was Christmas Eve, Maniwel and Jagger had knocked off work at -five o’clock, although business was brisk, and the younger man made it -his only recreation, rarely leaving the shop until the supper-hour -struck. Even now, as he sat with his head in his hands at the table, he -was studying plans, and Hannah looked across at her father, who was deep -in a book, and then turned to grannie. - -“I wish to goodness t’ Sperrit ’ud move someb’dy to talk!” she said. “I -should be fain of a few more young’uns to sing for us, for all they -bring a lot o’ muck in. It’s fair wearisome sitting by t’ hour together, -same as we were a lot o’ mutes.” - -“Nay, I don’t know about that, lass,” replied the old woman. “I was -never one for a deal o’ chattering myself, and there’s awlus a deal to -think about. I can pass my time nicely wi’ them ’at’s gone, for they -were a better breed i’ my young days nor what we’ve getten now.” - -“And whose fault is that?” inquired Maniwel, who had not been too -absorbed in his book to overhear what was said. “Who brought these we’ve -got now into t’ world? There’s a bit i’ t’ Book ’at you must ha’ missed, -where it reads ’at we’re not to talk about t’ former days being better -than our own, ’cause there’s no sense in it. What about t’ mischief -nights ’at father used to tell about, when they lifted t’ gates off o’ -their hinges, and stole t’ goose out o’ t’ larder, and such like tricks -at Christmas time? You’d look well if they were to fetch to-morrow’s -dinner while you were abed, mother.” - -“I should happen miss it less nor some,” replied the old woman placidly. -“I reckon naught o’ bits o’ marlacks same as them. Lads is lads, and -mischief comes nat’ral to ’em; and if there’s less on’t now it’s ’cos -they haven’t t’ sperrit they used to have, let t’ Book say what it -will.” - -Maniwel looked across at his mother with great good-humour. He knew that -her grumblings were not very sincere, and that she was probably happier -than she had been in the old days that had been drab enough until the -sunset tints of life’s eventide fell upon them. She spent the greater -part of her time now dreaming dreams, and it pleased him to rouse her, -and see the light of battle shine feebly in her eye again. - -“Nay, mother,” he said; “you’ll wriggle loose choose how fast we tie you -up. I never saw such a woman—why you’re as slippy as an eel. When -there’s a bit o’ mischief goes on i’ t’ village you shake your head and -think t’ Owd Lad’s got us on his fork; and when there isn’t, you say ’at -we’re short o’ sperrit and t’ world’s going back’ards way! It’s heads -win and tails loses every time!” - -“I say grannie’s right!” Jagger had turned on his chair and was -stretching out his long legs on the rug. He was a different man from the -one who had sat there so disconsolately twelve months before. Little by -little he had shaken off the melancholy that had enwrapped him and had -clothed himself in his father’s mantle of tranquillity. But even yet the -garment lacked the trimmings that beautified the older man’s and made it -conspicuous—cheerfulness and breezy optimism were missing. In their -stead was a fixed determination to take things quietly as they came, and -to push vigorously along the path he had mapped out for himself. The -encounter with Inman which had been deplored by the father as a mistake -in tactics as well as an evidence of the existence of “old Adam” had -given the son much satisfaction. Inman might sneer as he -liked—everybody for miles round knew that he had been laid out by his -rival, and the defeated man had no sympathisers. Jagger felt that it was -good for his self-respect to have that victory to his account, and he -had held himself more erect and viewed the world more hopefully ever -since. - -“_I_ say grannie’s right!” he said. “Shifting gates once a year, and -lifting a goose or two for a lark, are just lads’ tricks—mischief ’at -means naught. But when grown men plan out Mischief Nights a toathri -times a month it looks as if the Old Lad _had_ somebody on his fork, and -if I could just catch him I’d shove t’ fork that far in he wouldn’t get -off again easy!” - -“I’ll warrant you, lad,” said his father, and the two men’s eyes met. -“I’d like to see you with a grip on his collar myself.” - -“It wouldn’t take long neither,” returned Jagger significantly. “There’s -only one in this village ’at’s as clever as the devil himself, and as -black-hearted; but he’ll go a step too far one o’ these days.” - -“Sure enough! Them ’at dig pits are like to fall in ’em. If it goes on -much longer, lad, we shall have to watch.” - -“Aye, but it’s more’n a man can do to work all t’ day and watch all t’ -night. Let him be!” Jagger spoke as if the anticipated pleasure of -seeing Nemesis at work outweighed all the grievous afflictions which -were but for a moment. - -Certainly the succession of trifling mishaps that had at first -half-amused, half-enraged the village and had latterly aroused a large -measure of resentment, had been conceived and carried out with such -impish ingenuity as to convince a small minority that the culprit must -be one of a gang of rough lads from Kirkby Mawm who were well-known to -belong to the devil’s household brigade of mischief-makers. It was hard -to believe that any grown man would take pleasure in changing the labels -on the Drakes’ oil-cans as they stood on the cart in the carrier’s shed -ready for despatch, so that the man who was waiting for boiled oil found -himself supplied with linseed, and the farmwife whose stock of paraffin -had run out stamped her foot in wrath when thick lubricating oil began -to pour from the neck of the tin. After that, of course, the carrier -boarded up his shed; but he might have saved himself the expense for the -rascal was too wise to return upon his tracks. - -It looked a lad’s trick, too, when the door at the Grange which Maniwel -had painted white was seen in the morning to be covered with soot and -the sweep’s bag lying on the ground a few yards away: when Farmer -Lambert’s new cart was dragged from the Drakes’ painting shed during the -night and its coat of gorgeous scarlet ruined by the rain which had -fallen in torrents. There was some division of opinion, I repeat, on the -question of authorship; but there was none on the market value of Police -Constable Stalker as an officer of the law, which it was unanimously -agreed could hardly be lower. - -Whether or no Inman was aware that he was regarded with suspicion by any -of his neighbours he bore himself at this time with a detached and -contemptuous air that was his best defence; and he offered a simple -explanation of each mishap as it occurred that always drew a waverer or -two to his side. - -“Just another piece of blooming carelessness,” he would say with a shrug -of the shoulders. “They’re both of ’em half-asleep most o’ their time.” - -The subtle poison worked, if only slowly; and even those who were -well-disposed to the Drakes and ready to lay the charge at Inman’s door -began to wonder if it was quite safe to entrust their jobs to a firm -whose operations were attended with such bad luck. Fortunately Mr. -Harris remained their constant friend, and work had never yet been -scant. - -In the policeman Inman found a staunch ally. Every hint that was dropped -by the crafty plotter with a sportive humour that concealed itself -behind a mask of cynical unconcern was accepted and acted upon by -Stalker as if it had been a divine revelation. Nothing, of course, could -have served Inman’s purpose better; and he controlled the constable’s -movements to an extent that would have surprised the sergeant, who was -kept in blissful ignorance of these trifling occurrences. Stalker had no -qualms of conscience because he was quite certain that he was on the -track of a criminal, and that with Inman’s unobtrusive help he would one -day lay his hands upon him. For this reason the coldness or abuse of the -villagers made as little impression upon him as their scorn. He was a -dull and easily-befooled officer; but he had learned that if the law -moved slowly, it also moved majestically, and he could bide his time. He -accepted the suggestion of his prompter that these mishaps to the Drakes -were all arranged by Jagger himself to throw dust in his eyes and divert -his attention from the weightier matter of the robbery; and he was -determined to take good care that the device should not succeed. - -All this, of course, was not known to the Drakes; but both father and -son had a shrewd suspicion of how matters stood, though their attitude -towards the suspect differed materially. When Jagger said, therefore: -“Let him be!” the look that accompanied the injunction was more -expressive than the words. - -“Twelve months since,” said Hannah with sisterly satisfaction, “you’d -ha’ been ready to creep into your grave over t’ job. It isn’t all to t’ -bad.” - -“Not by a long way,” added the father. “I’m o’ Jagger’s way o’ thinking, -and I lay all t’ blame for this mischief on yon lad; but choose what -harm he’s done he’s made a man o’ Jagger, so we’ve no ’casion to be over -hard on him. He’ll tire o’ these kids’ tricks i’ time, and maybe repent -on ’em. As for getting hold of his throttle, it ’ud suit me better to -get hold of his ’at has him on t’ fork.” - -“There isn’t a ha’porth o’ difference between ’em,” said Jagger -emphatically. - -“Yes, there’s this much,” corrected his father; “’at t’ Old Lad’s i’ t’ -sperrit and t’ young lad’s i’ t’ flesh, and while a man’s i’ t’ flesh -there’s hope for him; and I’d sooner break t’ lad off his bad ways than -I’d break his back for him. T’ devil knows a good hammer when he sees -it, and a good hammer’s a good friend if we could steal it away. I could -like to do that bit o’ thieving.” - -“They’ve black hearts that comes off o’ that black moor,” said grannie, -shaking her head in deprecation of her son’s optimism; but he laughed -the implication away. - -“There’s few black hearts ’at’s fast dye, mother. They’ll wash clean, -and if we could get t’ sun to ’em they’d maybe bleach.” - -It was uneven warfare, for they were all against him. Grannie shook her -head and muttered to herself; Hannah told her father he didn’t know his -man, and proceeded to enlighten him by recalling incidents which she -assumed he had forgotten and Jagger listened with an expression of -tolerant amusement until his sister had finished, when he said— - -“It’s Christmas time, Hannah. There’s to be peace and goodwill, you -understand! a sort of a truce: God and t’ devil sitting down at one -table!” - -He spoke in a tone of good-tempered derision, but avoided his father’s -eye in which he would have seen an unexpected look of humour. - -“Now, that’s smart, isn’t it? You’ve wiped the floor wi’ your old dad -this time! I suppose you never heard o’ God and t’ devil sitting down -together? Reach t’ Book across, Hannah!” - -He found at once the passage he wanted and read— - -“Jesus answered them. Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a -devil? He spake of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon: for he it was that -should betray Him, being one of the twelve.” - -He paused and glanced across at his son; but meeting with no response, -turned over the leaves of the Book and read again— - -“And when He had dipped the sop He gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of -Simon.” - -He handed the book back to Hannah, and gazed steadily at Jagger. - -“That was t’ last time, lad. How oft do you think He’d supped wi’ him -before?” - -“He didn’t cure him,” said Jagger who was secretly proud of his father’s -ready wit, though not willing to acknowledge defeat; “Judas was a rank -wrong ’un, same as Inman: one o’ them you can’t cure.” - -“I don’t know whether He cured him or He didn’t,” replied Maniwel; “but -I’ve always had an idea ’at Judas rued when he found ’at he’d gone ower -far, and there’s never no telling what drove him to put t’ rope round -his neck.” - -“I could wish Inman ’ud get as far as that,” said Jagger flippantly. - -“If I thought you weren’t lying, lad,” Maniwel replied sternly after -looking at him searchingly for a moment; “I should be ashamed of you. -The Lord pity you if it’s true!” - -Jagger flushed and Hannah took up arms in his defence. - -“You must remember what he’s had to put up with, father; more’n you and -me. There isn’t many ’ud have taken it so quietly!” - -“That may be, lass, and I’m not denying it; but it ’ud grieve me to -think ’at Jagger was a murderer in his heart—” - -“Sure-_ly_ there’s someb’dy knocking!” said grannie whose head had been -bent towards the door during this admonition. - -“I heard naught,” said Hannah, but she rose and went to the door. “There -is someb’dy!” she said as she raised the latch and opened it; “Why, it’s -Mr. Briggs!” - -“Baldwin!” Maniwel was on his feet in an instant—“Bring him in, lass!” - -It was a scared and pitiable figure that stepped hesitatingly into the -cheerful light, and leaned against the dresser. An old workshop cap -remained forgotten on his head, and the worn coat was that in which he -had been accustomed to do his roughest work. Very old and frail he -looked as his dull eyes fixed themselves on Maniwel, and the hands that -hung straight down moved tremulously. - -“He’s turned me out, Maniwel!” - -It was almost a cry: it was certainly an appeal, though the words were -not so eloquent as the eyes. - -“Turned tha out!” repeated Maniwel incredulously. “What does tha mean -Inman?” - -Hannah was still holding the door ajar; but catching her brother’s eye -she closed it. Jagger had risen too, and was standing with his back to -the fire, a frown overspreading his face. - -“Turned me out, Maniwel, to fend for my-sen! I mud go to t’ Union, he -said, or to t’ devil!” - -“Tha did right to come here, lad,” said Maniwel, unconscious of any -humour in the remark. “You’ve been having a toathri words I reckon. -He’ll come round, tha’ll see, after a bit. Come and sit tha down by t’ -fire and tha shalt have a bit o’ supper wi’ us.” - -Baldwin did not move. His eyes wandering vacantly round the room had -found Jagger and were resting there with no change of expression, but -with a fixity that made the young man uncomfortable. - -“Take your cap off, Mr. Briggs, and come nearer t’ fire,” said -Hannah—though she anticipated the action by removing it herself. “Why, -you’re fair dithering wi’ cold! Come now, t’ kettle’s on t’ boil, and -I’ll soon have a cup o’ tea ready.” - -He suffered her to lead him to the hearth and to place him in her -father’s chair; but he still stared at Jagger as if something beneath -his consciousness was seeking to determine whether the young man was to -be regarded as friend or foe. - -Grannie looked across and smiled, for she was old enough to forget -readily grievances that were not her own. - -“Nay, Baldwin,” she said; “this is like owd times!” - -“So it is, mother,” said her son heartily. “He’s a bit upset just now, -and his breath’s been ta’en; but when he’s swallowed a drink o’ tea -he’ll feel himself, you’ll see!” - -Baldwin removed his eyes to Maniwel’s face, and a look of returning -intelligence appeared there. - -“We’ve had no words, lad,” he said. “He’s getten t’ business, that’s -all, so I’ve to shift—at my age, and it’ll be Christmas to-morrow. Damn -him, Maniwel!” - -“Nay, lad,” said the other sadly, “neither thee nor me’s no ’casion to -do that, for he’s damning himself, I’m flayed. We’ll see what he’s like -i’ t’ morning: we’re none that short o’ room but what we can put tha up -for a night; aye, and for good, if it comes to that. Tha needn’t dream -about t’ Union, Baldwin, nor t’ devil, neither. What say you, Jagger?” - -“He can stay for aught I care,” replied his son, though the concession -lacked graciousness. - -“You hear that!” Maniwel dulled his perceptions to the want of warmth. -“My bed’ll hold two, but tha’ll happen sleep better by thiself, and t’ -sofa’ll hold me nicely....” - -“He’ll have my bed,” said Jagger, “so that’s settled.” Then he went over -to his father and looked hard in his face. - -“Didn’t I tell you he was a devil?” he said; and Maniwel did not find -the inquiry ambiguous. - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - IN WHICH NANCY IS OVERWHELMED - -ALTHOUGH the excitements of a moorland village are ordinarily few in -number and mild in quality they are of sturdy habit when they do occur, -and too well cared for to die of inanition like the starved and -overcrowded sensations of the towns. - -Rumour which flies on swift wing in the busy centres and is quickly -chased away by denial, finds a comfortable breeding-ground in the lonely -places, and is cherished by the natives, who regard it as a veritable -bird of paradise with a voice of which only the echo is heard. - -Moreover a village is not as accommodating as a town; and the farther it -is removed from industrial influences the less likely is it to view any -sudden change with the philosophic calm which lowers its voice to -whisper “The King is dead!” and forthwith raises it to shout “Long live -the King!” - -Mawm furnished an illustration of both these facts. Baldwin Briggs had -been a fixture in the village: a piece of grit hewn out of the side of -their own bleak hills and therefore naturally rough and unyielding—even -coarse. Nobody had cared for him very much, for there had been in his -nature none of the kindliness that either begets or responds to -kindliness; yet there had been no marked aversion on the part of his -neighbours, who were aware that all sorts of natures like all sorts of -rock enter into the composition of a world. - -If the truth may be told most of his acquaintances were secretly pleased -when news came that Baldwin had lost a considerable portion of his -money; and even when it was seen that the disaster was of greater -magnitude than they had realised their attitude suffered little change. -He had always made them uneasily conscious of his superiority as a man -of means; the crash brought down the millstone grit from its proud -position among the clouds to the level of the humbler and commoner -limestone, and gave to every villager whom he had cursed or snubbed a -comfortable sense of nearer equality. Providence was avenging these -insults: it was not for them to find fault with Providence. - -When, however, the shock developed into an earthquake: when Providence -took the unwelcome shape of this foreigner, Inman; Mawm scowled and -muttered. To be driven from the devil he knew to the deep sea he -distrusted was an experience no man had bargained for; and when the -devil was such a broken-spirited boggart as Baldwin, the villagers’ -sympathies warmed towards the man who was bone of their bone; for after -all there is a vast difference between a devil and a poor devil. - -Baldwin, then, found not only Maniwel, but the bulk of his neighbours -well-disposed when with the foundering of his ship he lost all that he -had, and was so utterly beggared that even heart and hope—salvage which -many ship-wrecked souls manage to bear away with them, and with which -they find life still worth living—went with the rest. They greeted him -in friendly fashion when they met (which was indeed seldom for he -shunned society) but he responded with a scarcely perceptible nod and -kept his eyes on the ground until they had passed. - -“It’ll go agen t’ grain, having to take his orders thro’ Maniwel and -Jagger, an’ living on their charity, as you mud say”—this was the -universal opinion, freely expressed and with much wise head-shaking: a -very natural conclusion. - -It was incorrect. In the hour of his calamity Baldwin came to himself -and clung with a pitiful and almost childish sense of security to the -friend of his youth. Like the seeds in Arctic soil which have been -quickened into life by the warmth of some explorer’s camp fire and have -forced their tender shoots through the hard crust of earth, an -unsuspected virtue quickened in Baldwin, who by his actions—for words -failed him—showed himself grateful. - -The dog-like look in his eyes made Maniwel uneasy and Jagger irritable. - -“Come, come!” the father would say, “Tha owes us naught! Tha’rt working -for thi’ living, aren’t tha?” and the young man would growl out that it -pleased him to think they had taken the wind out of “yon beggar’s” -sails. - -It was indeed a thought that comforted Jagger and compensated for much -that was not agreeable, that by his ungenerous and even brutal action -Inman had over-reached himself, alienating the sympathies of those who -had been growing more favourably disposed towards him and deepening the -dislike of the rest, so that he was left for a while almost without -customers. Inman himself recognised his mistake, and was vexed and -disconcerted, though he turned an unperturbed face to the world, saving -his ill-humour for his wife, whom he made to suffer vicariously for this -cunning move of Maniwel’s as he chose to regard it. - -He was not the man, however, to be disheartened by one repulse, and he -had sufficient knowledge of human nature to realise that the coolness of -his neighbours would gradually disappear as they accustomed themselves -to the changed conditions, and that the best way to secure their trade -was to make adequate preparations for turning out good and expeditious -work. None of the workpeople had left him and he made it his first -business to secure their favour by treating them well. The interval of -stagnation was filled by painting the premises and making improvements -in the shop. Within a fortnight a new machine was installed; before a -month had passed two others followed; and everybody knew that the new -proprietor was going to make a bid for trade on a large scale. Little -wonder if, with such ample stores of warp and woof to draw upon, report -and rumour worked as busily as a weaver’s shuttle, and produced a pile -of material which the villagers cut and shaped according to their skill -and judgment. - -This, however, was not all. The sensation caused by the robbery and its -dramatic sequel in Baldwin’s downfall was still keen when a new crop of -rumours arose simultaneously with a change in the weather. Up to now the -landscape had been wrapped in its thick warm mantle of snow, and for -weeks on end the occupants of the scattered farms on the uplands had -been compelled to shut themselves up in their snug kitchens and turn -over and over again such scraps of spirit-stirring news as reached them -from the throbbing centre of their world—this moorland metropolis of -Mawm. - -It was towards the middle of January that the weather broke, and a rapid -thaw was followed by torrential rains and wild winds that swept over the -moors from the south-west and washed every secret crevice of the -Pennines. - -On one of the wildest and darkest of these nights a man of the far moors -whose thirst for good ale and good company had kept him at the -“Packhorse” until closing-time, and who had then accepted Swithin’s -invitation to accompany him to the shippen in the Long Close where he -had a heifer to dispose of, had an experience on his homeward journey -that sent him down to the inn again the next night, and made him for a -short time the most important figure upon the stage. - -Briefly the story he told was this. - -As he was making his way over the fields in the direction of Gordel and -the Girston road he “plumped fair into a fellow” who was walking towards -him, and who uttered an impatient exclamation at the encounter. Job -wished to know what the hangment he was doing there at that time of -night; but received no answer, unless a suggestion that the questioner -should betake himself to the devil could be regarded in that light. As -the stranger was in Job’s words, “a likelier-looking chap” than himself -and might for anything he knew be armed, as ill-disposed night prowlers -were reported to be, he thought it prudent not to continue longer than -was necessary in the man’s company, so wished him “Good night” as a -measure of precaution and made his way as quickly as possible to the -road. - -Arrived there curiosity got the better of other impulses and he stood -and looked over the Close; and as sure as he was sitting on the bench of -that bar-parlour a glimmer of light had caught his eye in the distance: -a light that had moved up and down in the neighbourhood of the shippen -for about a quarter of an hour and had then disappeared. - -Job, like the rest of the company, was hopeful that Swithin would be -able to put two and two together. - -Swithin, however, was unfriendly and discouraging. - -“I saw nowt o’ no tramp,” he replied. “Job found a mare’s nest. Some -fella’ll ha’ been taking a short cut to t’ high road, and Job’ll ha’ -seen t’ light of my lantern through a chink i’ t’ shippen.” - -“Chinks doesn’t move up and down an’ back’ards an’ forrads same as a -chap was seeking his gallus button,” returned Job doggedly: and Swithin -turned on him with a fierceness that seemed out of all proportion to the -occasion. - -“His gallus button! What does tha mean?” he asked almost menacingly. - -“It was only a figger o’ speech,” Job answered surlily; at a loss to -know how he had aroused the old man’s ire. - -“Then keep your figgers o’ speech and your daft boggart tales to -yourself,” growled Swithin. - -“You’ve no ’casion to cut up so rough ’cos I didn’t fancy t’ heifer,” -said Job hotly; and disappointed that his communication had been -received so coolly, he soon took his departure. - -The report spread, rumour companied with it; statements credible and -incredible multiplied; a mysterious stranger of sinister appearance who -lurked in the shadows and was never seen by day was believed in by every -villager except Inman and Swithin. The old man was particularly -incredulous and aggravatingly sarcastic. The word “daft” was always on -his lips; but the evidence of things not seen was good enough for the -generality, and faith in the obscure alien was almost universal. - -Police Constable Stalker was not numbered with the believers. Whether it -was that Inman’s scepticism had influenced him or that the evidence was -not of the kind that is accepted in a police-court, he remained as -scornful and sceptical as Swithin himself. When his detractors ventured -to suggest that it was his business to lay the ghost or lay hands on it -he had one ready reply that reduced them to silence— - -“A man can’t be everywhere at once!” he said. “We shall have to see if -we can’t arrange for a few ‘specials!’” - -It was not until January had usurped February’s prerogative by filling -the dykes to overflowing that the weather moderated. Three days of -brilliant sunshine ushered in the year’s second month: three spring-like -days when the grass beside the swollen river lost its grey winterly look -and lay yellow-green in the warm sunlight. - -Nancy, her well-shawled baby in her arms, left her home in the early -afternoon to walk for a while in the crisp, sweetly-scented air. The -footbridge near the house was under water so she turned down the road -and crossed the green in front of the “Packhorse,” at that hour deserted -of customers. From the doorway of the inn Albert threw her a pleasant -greeting. - -“A grand day, Nancy! It’s good to see you about again. Have you ought i’ -your poke you want to sell?” - -“You haven’t money enough to buy, Albert,” she replied readily. - -“Is that so?” he went on with affected astonishment. “These pedigree -pups does cost a sight o’ brass, I know!” - -She smiled and passed on; but the words in their careless humour had -struck her heart like a blow. “These pedigree pups!” What was her -child’s pedigree? “By James Inman ex Nancy Clegg!” The burden she was -carrying that had been so light a moment or so before grew suddenly -heavy, and she was conscious of an aching arm. The sunshine that had -shed its radiance upon her spirits was blotted out by this leaden cloud, -and she was conscious of an aching heart. The wild grandeur of nature, -the wind-swept hills that she had thought to look upon with so much -pleasure, mocked her with a sense of harshness and stony indifference. -They were old—hoary with age: of what concern to them were the sorrows -of the puny mortals who came and went in the grey hamlet that sheltered -at their feet, and who were soon buried in the earth and forgotten? With -what fervent heat she had loved them! how cold they were to her! - -Mechanically she drew the knitted wrap further across the sleeping -child’s face—in order to protect it from the frost the action said; but -as her heart told her, so that she might not see her husband’s features -reproduced on a smaller scale. - -Her heart spoke and she listened. Immediately there came a revulsion of -feeling as sudden and tempestuous as the gales that leap full-grown from -the secret places of the mountains, and she pulled the wrap back and -raised the little head to her lips. - -“My precious!” she said. - -He opened his eyes and smiled into hers, gurgling his appreciation of -the light that shone there and the comfort of her arms; and not a shadow -lingered on her face. All the optimism of mother-love, all the brave -predictions that a woman associates with her first-born boy helped to -drive the black mood back. The child was her one comfort: the bow God’s -mercy had set in the cloud to show that her sinful folly had not doomed -her to utter despair. He was hers to mould and train as she would, for -her husband cared nothing for him,—she could almost thank God that it -was so—and they two would be companions in the days that lay ahead, -roaming the wild moors together and climbing to the very summits of the -mountains. She laughed aloud as in fancy she heard his laugh—the laugh -of the agile lad who makes fun of his mother’s tardiness; she lived in a -paradise of the future: a paradise ready-made on those bleak, grey -uplands, which were no longer frosty and heartless and old, but young -and bright as the spring-time.... - -She had gone far enough along the Tarn road—too far, indeed, for her -strength—and she turned back. The baby river, a good distance below, -seemed to her unusually loud and boisterous. The noise of its roaring -echoed strangely from the sides of old Cawden on whose lower slopes the -path she was treading ran. She would have noticed it more if her -forehead had not been buried so often against the soft flesh of her -baby’s neck. It was not until she reached the point where the Tarn road -joins that from Gordel that she became aware that the sound of rushing -water came not from the river below but from the hill above. - -I have said already that the neighbourhood of Mawm is famous for its -natural curiosities; but of all the phenomena connected with it there is -none more remarkable than that which is associated with the hamlet’s -guardian hill. - -At irregular intervals (for the action is uncertain and governed by -undiscovered causes) there pours from the foot of Cawden and from a -usually dry outlet a flood of water which has cut a deep channel at the -foot of the somewhat steep bank that flanks one side of the Gordel road -at this point. The bank shelves down to the Tarn road, and there the -torrent discharges itself upon the roadway, raging along its improvised -bed on its mad rush to the river with such force that the road is not -infrequently washed bare to the rock. For several hours the flood may -continue, and subside as quickly as it arose; and years may elapse -before there is any return of the eruption. - -It was one of these capricious outbursts with which Nancy was now -confronted, and her passage was stopped by the sheet of water that -spread over the junction of the two roads for a considerable area and -was of uncertain depth. One glance told her that she must not attempt to -ford the stream there, and a second showed her that there was an easy -alternative. She had only to walk a few steps up the green and it would -be a simple matter to leap from the bank to the road, for the water was -still confined to its deep but narrow channel. - -Not a soul was in sight though she heard men’s voices not far away. No -anticipation of difficulty troubled her, however; she could almost -stride across such an insignificant chasm; and she quickened her steps -in order to accomplish the movement before those who were approaching -should be at hand to poke fun at her. - -That unnecessary haste was fatal. The bank was soft and muddy, and her -shoe caught in it as she jumped. She reached the other side but fell -back, and the baby was swept from her arms.... - -They carried her home, senseless: some said dead, like the infant which -Jagger bore in his arms. It was he and Jack Pearce whose voices Nancy -had heard. It was he who ran and seized the child but could not save its -fragile life. When they reached the village women pressed forward to -look on the white face of the mother, but gave no thought to the bairn -which might have been sleeping, for aught they knew, on Jagger’s breast. - -The whole place was astir by the time they came to the bridge, and as -the procession of bearers and followers passed up the street Inman was -seen striding towards it. At sight of him Jagger hurried forward. - -“Nancy’s stunned!” he explained. “She fell crossing t’ stream up above -yonder. She may ha’ hurt her head; but I doubt it isn’t that—t’ baby’s -dead: drowned!” - -Without a word Inman took the child upon his own arm and turned -homewards. Jagger hesitated. A few yards separated them from the nearest -of the crowd. - -“I’m downright sorry, lad!” he said with an effort. - -“To the devil with your sorrow!” Inman answered; and Jagger left him. - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - IN WHICH INMAN’S POPULARITY IS SEEN TO WAVER - -THERE were those in Mawm who said that with the death of his child -Inman experienced a change of heart, but what really happened was that -he seized the occasion when the sympathies of his neighbours were yet -warm towards him to ingratiate himself with them by an appearance of -thankfulness and goodwill. He was, as the clear-sighted detective had -decided, a superb actor; and he was quick to perceive that in this -misfortune there was a providential opportunity for the display of his -gifts, and that it had come in the nick of time to restore him to the -favour of the community. For the community as a body of people he cared -not one jot, it was for customers, and for them only, that he played his -part. For their sake—that is to say for his own—he composed his -features, whenever he was likely to be observed, into an expression of -resigned melancholy, that served its purpose with an unemotional but not -unkindly people, who admired, too, the way in which he put aside his -personal sorrow and interested himself in their business affairs. - -It was the same in the workshop and in the home. If some subliminal -sense kept Frank and the rest from liking him, they began to recognise -his good qualities, and found life under his stern but orderly -mastership a good deal more tolerable than it had been with the looser -administration of Baldwin. Instinctively each man felt that the business -was going to prosper, and that though he was only a cog in the machine -he would be well cared for because the cog was an essential part of the -whole. - -In the home Keturah suddenly found the roughness smoothed out of the -hard voice, and herself addressed in kindlier fashion than she had -experienced since Nancy’s marriage. Could she be blamed, if she thanked -the impersonal and hazy being who stood for her God, that the child had -been “ta’en?” After all, at her time of life, children running about the -house and “mucking it up” were a scarcely tolerable nuisance. - -Altogether then, the first two weeks of February saw Inman’s position -strengthened. Unemotional themselves, the villagers were favourably -disposed towards a man who could “sup his gruel and say nowt.” The more -fickle remembered that Baldwin had always been a cross-grained and surly -fellow, and told themselves that he might have given Inman more cause -for resentment than outsiders could be aware of. It was with Inman as -with Gordel, when thin watery mists soften the cragged outlines and veil -its threatening features—he was no longer “fearsome” and forbidding: he -was even attractive in his own way. - -There were those who held contrary opinions: stubborn souls who refused -to trim their sails to the prevailing breeze and continued to regard -Inman with a suspicion they could not justify; but there was one who -knew the truth: who knew that if the man’s heart was changed it was not -the angels who had cause to rejoice. - -All the bitterness he was compelled to dissemble, all the contempt he -felt but must not show, Inman unloaded on his wife when they were alone. -As he had stood by her side, waiting for her to show signs of returning -consciousness, he had prayed that her life might be spared: that he -might not be robbed of the vengeance he had promised himself. That the -prayer was addressed to nobody in particular does not matter. - -It seemed for a time as if the petition would be denied him, for Nancy -rallied from one swoon to fall into another; but she was young and -strong and her body resisted death’s claim. In a fortnight she was -sitting up in her room, and her husband’s brow was black. - -“What are you whining for?” he asked her, when she looked up into his -face and cried, the first time they were alone;—“If you hadn’t been so -busy sweet-hearting your eyes and ears ’ud have been open! You’ve got -what you deserved!” - -The tears dried on Nancy’s cheeks, and the feeling of pity for the -father who had been bereaved like herself gave place to a nausea that -was too physical to be called hate. She did not tell him the insinuation -was a lie, but knocked for Keturah, and fell into her arms when she -came, deathly sick. From that moment Inman had persecuted her, assuming -her guilt from the slender evidence that it was Jagger who had recovered -the child, and her own confusion, but making no inquiries lest his -suspicion should be removed, and as she grew stronger the hatred he took -no trouble to conceal spread to her own heart and revealed itself in her -face. There was then open war between them, carefully concealed, -however, from everyone but themselves. - -One circumstance gave Nancy satisfaction. Her husband showed no -disposition to share her room. - -“You may stay where you are!” he said to Keturah when she suggested that -Nancy no longer required her services: “I’m going to stop where I am.” - -It was at this time that the Drakes experienced a more serious mishap -than had hitherto befallen them. On reaching their work at a building -which was being erected at some little distance from the village, they -found one morning to their dismay that the stays to the roof principals -had been removed, and that the whole superstructure had fallen, doing -much damage. - -Father and son looked at each other in silence. Each knew that this was -a serious disaster. - -“It’s no accident, father!” said Jagger, speaking through closed teeth. - -“It’s no accident, lad! Them stays has been ta’en down since we left!” - -“_He’ll_ give it out ’at they weren’t right fixed,” continued -Jagger;—“’at we’re too damned careless to be trusted to knock a -soap-box together. Look what he said when he set t’ timber loose!” - -He referred to an occasion when timber, which they had set in the stream -to season had been found farther down the river when daylight came, and -Inman had said with a sneer that the Drakes were too damned careless to -tie a knot in a rope. - -“I’ve watched his house for two nights and he never left it,” Jagger -went on. “Stalker saw me t’ second time and didn’t seem to like it. He -said he was down on fellows ’at were hiding behind walls at two o’clock -i’ t’ morning when there was so much mischief afloat. I could ha’ -knocked his head off! a chap ’at can neither collar t’ rascal himself -nor let other folks have a try.” - -Maniwel looked grave. “Does he know ’at we suspect Inman?” - -“’Course he does. But Inman’s thrown him t’ sop, and Stalker can see -naught wrong in him. I could almost think he’d set him on to watch -_me_.” - -“It’s a mess, lad! He plays a deep game and he’s ommost over clever for -you and me. He’ll do us a bigger mischief if he can, you’ll see, -especially now ’at we’ve ta’en on Baldwin. There’s a few deep ruts i’ t’ -Straight Road.” - -Though his face and voice were both sober there was a twinkle in the -eyes he turned to his son. - -“T’ game isn’t ended yet. Bide your time!” - -Jagger’s teeth were still closed and his face was set and stern; but -there was no sound of discouragement in the voice and Maniwel’s own -features relaxed. - -“Aye, we’ll bide our time. ‘In quietness and confidence’—that’s a good -motto and it’ll see us through. What had best be our next move, think -you?” - -“T’ next move,” replied his son, “is to get to work and do this job over -again. You’d better go down and bring one or two back with you. I shame -for anybody to see it, but that can’t be helped. It’s his trick.” - -He had taken off his coat as he spoke and was folding up his sleeves. “I -wish I had him here,” he continued grimly as he bent his arm and doubled -his fist. “T’ next trick ’ud be mine. If I’d a fair chance I’d make t’ -lion lie down so as t’ lamb ’ud be safe enough: I would that!” - -The disaster was discussed at length the same evening in the bar parlour -of the “Packhorse” where until the entrance of Frank’s father opinion -was fairly evenly divided, the older men being warm in their assertions -of foul play, but some of the younger ones inclining to the theory that -Jagger’s workmanship must be unsound. - -“You’ll have heard, I reckon, ’at t’ new boss has lamed his-self?” - -Bill Holmes delivered himself of the inquiry the moment he was seated, -with the air of a man who feels sure he is imparting brand-new -information. The silence of the company whose eyes fixed themselves upon -him interrogatively, confirmed this belief, and he lit his pipe with -provoking deliberation. - -“We’ve heard nowt o’ t’ sort,” said Swithin, as Bill professed to find -difficulties in making his pipe draw; “but I for one aren’t capped. What -sort of a accident is it ’at he’s happened?” - -“I thowt you’d mebbe ha’ ’eard tell,” said Bill, who was elated to find -himself for once on the parliamentary front-bench and was determined to -make the most of his opportunity. - -“He sent for our Frank into t’ house and telled ’im to keep ’is mouth -shut: ’at he’d fallen ’ard on t’ road when he wor goin’ into t’ shop -afore dayleet and twisted ’is ankle beside ’urtin’ his knee-cap.” - -Swithin sat back in his chair, a look of satisfaction on his face, and -several of the others, including some of Inman’s defenders, exchanged -significant glances. - -“There wor a black frost, reyt eniff, first thing,” said Ambrose. “It’s -hard weather, and that slippy i’ places I thowt once ower I should ha’ -to bide at home—” - -“It is slippy, Ambrose,” Swithin broke in. He was never happier than -when circumstances allowed him to adopt the tone and manner of an -examining counsel, and he looked round upon the company with the same -glance of command that always brought his dogs to attention when sheep -were to be shepherded. “We’re all aware o’ that fact. But I’ve a -question or two I want to put to Bill if so be ’at he’s a mind to answer -’em.” He cleared his throat, and fixed the witness with his eye. “If -Frank had to keep his mouth shut how comes it ’at he’s opened it? - -“’Cos Inman’s lowsened him,” replied Bill. “He sees it’s goin’ to keep -him laid up for a day or two, so it’s n’ewse tryin’ to ’ide it.” - -“I thowt as much! He didn’t leet to say, I reckon, what made him so -partic’lar to keep it quiet at first?” - -“He was ’opin’ it wor nowt much,” replied Bill; “but he’s war hurt nor -he thowt on, so t’ tale wor like to come out onnyway.” - -Swithin had bent forward to catch the reply; but he again sat back and -allowed his features to express his satisfaction. - -“You’ve been putting two and two together, Swith’n, that’s easy seen,” -said Ambrose admiringly. “Them een o’ yours has scanned t’ moor for -stray sheep while you can see beyond ord’nary. It’s a gift ’at you’ve -made t’ most on.” - -“A child ’ud put two and two together i’ this case, Ambrus,” returned -the other, “but there’s grown men ’at willn’t see what’s straight i’ -front o’ their noses, and willn’t believe when they’re tell’d. You’ll -ha’getten a glimmer yoursen, I’m thinking?” - -Ambrose summoned a wise look and nodded his head in a knowing way, -replying craftily— - -“Owd fowk is far’er sighted nor t’ young’uns, Swith’n. Put it into words -for t’ benefit o’ t’ comp’ny.” - -“I will!” said Swithin; but he drained his mug before undertaking the -task. - -“Suppose a man slips on his doorst’n and hurts his-sen—I put it to you -as man to man: is there owt to be ashamed on, and to hold back? Is there -owt to make a man say ’at you mun keep your mouth shut ower t’ job? Why -t’ king his-sen could happen a’ accident o’ that sort! - -“But, I’ll put it to you another way: supposing a man had been where -he’d no business i’ t’ night-time, and had catched his foot i’ t’ trap -he wor setting for someb’dy else (and that’s a figger o’ speech as Job -’ud say, for there’s things ’at it’s best not to put into words) -wouldn’t it be his first thowt to keep mum about t’ accident, till he -fun owt ’at it couldn’t be done? I’m putting two and two together, -Ambrus, but you may do t’ sum for yoursens.” - -“You’re in your gifted mood at this minute, Swith’n,” the old man -replied with ungrudging admiration, “and well we all see it.” - -“It’s mebbe lucky for some folks,” continued Swithin, “’at they can -crawl home wi’ a sore foot, and not be pinned to t’ ground wi’ a beam on -their belly. It’ll happen be a lesson to ’em, but I doubt there’s worse -to come.” - -“I’ll say ‘Amen’ to that, Swith’n,” said Ambrose, “but you munnot brade -o’ t’ cat and start licking your mouth afore t’ trap’s oppened.” - -Before Swithin could reply Bill Holmes, who had more than once sought an -opportunity to edge in another word, remarked in an aggrieved tone— - -“If you weren’t all i’ such a hurry to put your own fillin’s in I sud a’ -finished my tale. Swithin isn’t t’ only one ’at can put two and two -together. Our Frank picked it out ’at it wor a lame tale, for when he -went tul ’is work t’ shop wor locked up, and Keturah ’ad to tak’ t’ bolt -an’ chain off t’ ’ouse door afore she could ’and ’im t’ key. Mebbe -there’s more nor Swithin can say what that points tul.” - -“It points to this,” said Swithin who evidently interpreted the feelings -of all present, “’at Inman’s a liar when he says he fell on his way tul -his work; and if Jagger’s owt about him he’ll set t’ police agate ower -t’ top o’ Stalker’s head.” - -Ambrose shook his head slowly, though the movement was not intended to -indicate his personal disapproval. - -“Maniwel ’ud be again’ you, Swith’n. They say Jagger was as mad as if -he’d sat on a nettle; but his fayther’s all for killing fowk wi’ -kindness. There’s Baldwin, for a case i’ point. Him and Maniwel’s as -thick as two thieves, and they tell me they cahr ower t’ hearthst’n of a -night, crackin’ o’ owd times, till it’s a picter. I made a wonderful -grand verse about it i’ my head when I wor waiting for sleep i’ t’ -night-time, and I thowt for sure I should call it to mind i’ t’ mornin’ -but when I woke it wor as clean gone as Baldwin’s gowden sovrins. My -memory’s nowt no better nor a riddle, neebours, now ’at I’ve getten into -years.” - -“It’s little use Baldwin is to Jagger,” added one of the company. “By -all ’at’s said he doesn’t earn his keep by a long way. He’s goin’ down -t’ hill fast, if you ask me.” - -“It’s a true word, Sam,” replied Swithin. “Baldwin’s marked for Kingdom -Come, onnybody may see; and t’ sooner they ’liver him his papers t’ -better for him and iwerybody else. Inman sent him tul his long home when -he put him to t’ door, though reyt eniff he wor on t’ road ivver after -t’ robbery. It worn’t kindness ’at killed _him_, Ambrus.” - -“Nay, but it wor kindness ’at killed t’ devil in him,” persisted the old -man. “A bairn could handle him now.” - -“Softenin’ o’ t’ brain, Ambrose, more nor softenin’ o’ t’ ’eart,” said -Sam. - -“Be that as it may,” returned Ambrose, “he’s getten his mouth sponged -clean and that’s a merricle—” - -At this moment the landlord, who had been summoned from the room whilst -the conversation was in progress, put his head in at the door. - -“Swithin!” he said in such a strange voice that all present turned to -look at him and saw a look of consternation on his face, “you’re wanted -at once.” - -Swithin looked startled; but rose painfully and having knocked the ashes -out of his pipe went over to the landlord. - -“Who is it wants me?” he asked. - -“Jack Pearce!” Albert answered. “He’s just outside.” - -He closed the door behind the old man and turned to the company. - -“Their Polly’s made away wi’ herself, poor lass! She couldn’t stand t’ -shame on’t; and there’s Jack Pearce swearing he’ll swing for Inman!” - - - CHAPTER XXV - - IN WHICH NANCY DISCUSSES THE SITUATION WITH - JAGGER - -IN hamlets like Mawm, which are familiarised with nothing except the -commonplace (for even the natural phenomena which arouse the wonder and -admiration of every visitor are just ordinary features of the landscape -to those who have looked upon them from their birth) an occasional -episode is welcomed as a spice that gives an agreeable flavouring to -life; but a succession of episodes, like an over-measure of spice, soon -creates distaste and even revulsion. Ever from the date of the robbery -startling events had succeeded each other with such rapidity that the -villagers were stupefied by the unaccustomed whirligig. It was as if the -earth which had always been so substantial and secure had become subject -to sudden tremors and upheavals, which had already wrought the ruin of -some familiar structures, and might for anything they knew bring the -solid mass of the mountains down upon their heads. - -Swithin Marsden and Jack Pearce, drawn together at last by the strong -twofold cord of a common sorrow and a common hate, took care that the -community should trace these disturbing occurrences and disasters to -their origin in Inman, and that astute man’s star set as quickly as it -had risen. When the mourners returned from following Polly Marsden’s -body to its resting place at Kirkby Mawm it is doubtful if the man had -more than one staunch adherent in the whole neighbourhood. - -One, however, there was. Police-Constable Stalker, all the more because -public opinion was now ranged definitely on the other side, persisted -that Inman was an injured man; and he set aside the wrong done to -Swithin’s granddaughter as a venial offence which many of the -master-carpenter’s critics had good reason for condoning if they would -but examine their own secret records. The suggestion that the Drakes -owed their troubles to the same agency he dismissed with the cryptic -assertion that “them ’at lives t’ longest’ll see t’ most;” and he -allowed it to be understood that he was devising a trap which would -provide the neighbourhood with a climax in sensations if all went well. - -The accident which meanwhile kept Inman a prisoner was a misfortune that -individual heartily cursed. The extent of it nobody knew but himself, -for his wife’s offer of help was refused with an emphasis that forbade -repetition. In plain words she was told to keep away from his room, and -even Keturah’s ministrations were declined. - -“He’s damaged his leg; that’s what he’s done,” said the woman. “He can -hardly shift himself off o’ t’ bed. It caps me he doesn’t send for t’ -doctor.” - -Nancy was indifferent. Although she was moving about again she was still -weak, and too dispirited to concern herself over the ailment or attitude -of a man who hated her. His rough dismissal had been, indeed, a relief, -and afforded her a sense of freedom and an opportunity for its enjoyment -which were as welcome as they were unexpected. - -Her baby’s death had left her without an interest in life, and it had -done more: it had half-persuaded her that it was useless to fight -against fate. - - “A Clegg wife - And it’s sorrow or strife!” - -In her case the burden was double-weighted: it was sorrow and strife. -Well, she was young, and by and by would be herself again; if sorrow was -to be her lot she would bear it without complaining, and if strife—she -would not be trodden on by any man. - -She was young and she was also strong; and with the coming of the bright -cold days, when the frost silvered the landscape until the warm sun -swept the white dust away into the shadows Nancy’s limbs regained their -vigour though her spirits remained low. Keturah would have kept her from -Polly’s funeral if she could; but Nancy’s mind was made up. - -“I wonder you can shame to go,” the older woman said, “and your own -husband, more’s the pity, t’ cause of all t’ trouble. I should want to -hide my head i’ my apron if it was me.” - -“I’ll go _because_ he’s my husband,” Nancy replied. “They all know me, -and they knew he married me for my money. If poor Polly had had money -he’d never have looked my way, and it might have saved us both. If only -I could have seen the road that lay before me she could have had mine -and welcome.” - -She had made no change of dress for her baby; but she now removed the -flowers from a black hat and went to the house where the mourners were -assembled, passing through the crowd at the door, and entering the room -where the mother was sitting in her garments of heavy crêpe with the -other members of the family about her. A look of astonishment came into -the woman’s eyes as she held her handkerchief away for a moment; but -there was no animosity there, and when Nancy stooped and kissed her -forehead she said— - -“Eh, lass, but my heart aches for ye!” - -“And mine for you!” returned Nancy. “If I could change places with -Polly, I would!” - -She looked at nobody else; but in the little passage outside the room -Hannah put her arm on her shoulder. - -“You shall go home with me when they leave,” she said; and careless of -her husband’s disapproval she went. - -It was then that she heard for the first time the full story of her -husband’s crimes and suspected crimes. It was then that she learned how -Jagger had punished Inman when he found him with Polly on the night -Nancy’s baby was born. Hannah’s anger was burning fiercely and Nancy’s -wrongs added fresh fuel to the flames. No sense of delicacy led her to -hide anything from her friend; and when Nancy went home she understood -why her husband hated her, and she became conscious of a change of -spirit; of a strange exhilaration that left life no longer colourless or -purposeless. From that moment her wits began to work with a cautious -intelligence that would have surprised her husband, and the Drakes had a -very alert agent within the enemy’s camp. - -One afternoon of the same week she climbed the Cove road with the -deliberate intention to intercept Jagger on his homeward journey, though -a visit to Far Tarn farm was the avowed object of the journey. Her -departure was well timed, and they met at the junction of the roads -where their paths would diverge. Though both hearts were beating more -quickly than usual there was nothing lover-like in their greeting, and -Nancy speedily made known her business. - -“I came on purpose to meet you, Jagger,” she said, “and there’s no time -to be lost, because though there isn’t a soul to be seen there’s never -no telling who’ll come along—and carry tales.” - -Jagger nodded. “I’d say, let ’em come, if it was only me; but you’re -right, Nancy. There’s no sense in making trouble.” - -“It’s a plan I’ve got in my head,” she said. “Hannah’s told me all about -James, and the low tricks he’s always playing on you; and how sometimes -you stay up most o’ t’ night to try to catch him at it. You won’t manage -it, Jagger! He’s too fly for you! He’s hobbled just now, of course; but -he’s mending fast—he was in the shop all the morning—and he’ll soon be -about again. I want you to lie low and leave me to do the watching!” - -Her eyes were bright; but there was no other sign of excitement, and the -lips closed resolutely. Jagger, however, shook his head. - -“Nay, nay, Nancy, that ’ud never do! He’s the dad of all for cunning and -mischief, and if he finds you at that game he’ll make you smart for it. -It’s no woman’s work, this. Jack Pearce has promised to share wi’ me, so -it’ll not come that hard on either of us to lose a night’s sleep now and -then. Leave it to us, and get your rest. I’m sorry he’s who he is, -Nancy; but I won’t have you dragged into it.” - -“Listen, Jagger!” said Nancy earnestly. “He’s got Stalker on his side -and they’ve always their heads together. Stalker’s soft as putty and -James keeps him oiled and shapes him as he likes. He’s made him believe -you’re a wrong un—that much I found out, for I’ve listened: it’s a -nasty, low-down trick, but I did it, and I’ll do it again. I couldn’t -hear much, for James talks low; but I got enough to know that Stalker is -keeping his eye on you and what can you do when you’re handicapped like -that?” - -Something like a smile came into Jagger’s eyes, though the face that was -upturned to his was white and anxious. - -“Twelve months since, Nancy, I should have had t’ blue devils with all -this: I should have laid down and let trouble roll over me; but now I’m -hanged if I don’t find a pleasure in it. It’s same as when you hold t’ -axe to t’ grunston’—rough treatment, and brings t’ fire out of you at -t’ time; but brightens you up and sharpens you wonderful. There’s a vast -difference between father and me—for he’s _over_ soft, and ’ud give his -other hand to save Inman’s soul, where I’d lend him a rope to hang -himself with;—but he’s smittled me i’ one or two ways, and I’m sticking -to t’ Straight Road; for whether there’s ought watches over me or no I’m -certain sure there’s something watches over him and we shall come out on -top.” - -Nancy had glanced round the moor apprehensively more than once during -this long declaration; but finding nothing to arouse her fears was not -unwilling to prolong the conversation. - -“It’s made a man of you, Jagger,” she said. “It’s naught no more than a -game with you, same as your boxing. James may fell you once or twice or -a dozen times, but you’re always looking forward to t’ time when it’ll -be your turn, and he’ll be counted out. _I_ know you; and I’m glad to -see it in a way; though it’s a poor thought that if I hadn’t married -James maybe you’d never have made much out.” - -She ended so wearily that Jagger’s face saddened, and his voice lost its -note of defiance and became troubled like her own. - -“It won’t bide thinking about, Nancy; better leave it. Maybe I _do_ make -a game of it; but it was either that or going to t’ dogs—” - -“I’m glad you didn’t do that, Jagger!” she broke in hastily. “Once over, -when I came to myself, I wondered if you would, and I fret and prayed -about it. Oh—if you knew how often I’ve thanked God that I hadn’t -_that_, on my conscience! If I’d seen you go wrong—! But we won’t talk -about it, only, it isn’t a game to _me_; it’s just a dragging on, with -naught but a weary, miserable life stretching away, year in year out, as -flat and drab as the moor, till one or both of us drop into our graves.” - -She repented the words the moment they were uttered, for the expression -on Jagger’s face told her how deeply they had sunk; but it was too late. - -“Nancy, lass! you’re breaking your heart; or I’ve broken it for you!” - -His voice thrilled with the sorrow and bitterness that struggled to find -expression; and he would have put his arms around her with a man’s -instinctive eagerness to protect and comfort the woman he loves; but -Nancy shrank back, and relieved the strain by changing the tone of her -voice and forcing a laugh. - -Her wit was more subtle than his, which would have mistaken a sedative -for a cure. His clumsy efforts would have extended the wound he was -wishful to close: she intuitively chose the remedy that would both -soothe and heal; yet her love was as strong as his, and her heart ached -for the clasp of his arms. - -“It’s same as a play, isn’t it? We shall be talking about running away -together next, same as they do in books; but there’s naught o’ that sort -on the Straight Road. Eh, Jagger; you thought I was whining like a -baby!” - -His face was still clouded and she rallied him upon his gloom. - -“I wondered if you were as grand as you thought you were!” she lied. “It -didn’t need as much as a tear to damp all the sparks out of your axe -when it ran against a woman’s grindstone! You ought to have known that I -should never think the moor drab. Look at it, man!” - -He raised his eyes, following the direction of her arm as it swept a -half circle over the landscape. The light was yellow, for it was towards -sunset, and the moor stretched its great length before them like -burnished metal—brass and copper. The greens were washed over with -gold: there was gold in the russets, gold on the pale straws, and the -trailing roads were no longer white but faintly yellow. On the western -horizon there was a slight haze, delicately pink; and clouds of a deeper -hue slashed the blue of the sky. - -“Drab!” Nancy laughed mock-mirthfully. “It’s as good as a rainbow, -Jagger! I’m like you: when trouble comes I make a game of it: I won’t be -beaten! Maybe, somewhere on ahead, life’ll be pink, like that. We’ve got -to jog on when it’s stormy and keep smiling!” - -“You’re a wonder, Nancy!” said Jagger; and the cloud that still lingered -over his eyes had itself caught the sunset tints. - -“I’m a fool!” she replied. “I’m wasting time and running risks instead -of saying my say and getting on with my business. Let’s leave all this -nonsense and get back to where we started. I’m going to watch James -instead of you. Let Stalker think you’ve given it up. Make out that -you’re tired of watching and finding nothing, and then when I’ve aught -to tell you they’ll be off their guard. You aren’t deep enough for -James.” - -“Happen not,” he assented grudgingly; “but t’ pace is too hot to last. -He’ll trip before long, you’ll see. I don’t like t’ thought of you being -mixed up with it, Nancy. If he was to pick it out he’d raise hell, and -if he was to touch you—” - -“If he was to touch me,” she said proudly, “he’d know about it, but I -doubt if he will. He’s all for himself, Jagger, and his skin’s dear to -him. He’d like to, well enough, I daresay; but he dursn’t. Don’t you -worry about me. I was born on the moor.” - -She saw the danger light return to his eyes and at that signal changed -her tone. - -“Get you gone!” she said quietly; “we’ve stood three times too long -already. I’ll find ways and means of letting you know if there’s aught -to tell.” - -She moved away as she spoke, without a word of farewell, and never once -turned her head, so that she did not see how he stood, shading his eyes -with his hand, watching her figure grow smaller and less distinct as the -distance between them increased. - -All the man’s complacency had been shattered by the interview, and he -knew that the anodyne of hard work had left the sore in his heart -untouched: that the hours he had crowded with plans and projects in the -hope of obliterating thoughts of what might have been had been to that -extent hours wasted. Yet, though he knew himself maimed and marred by -this severance from the woman he loved: though the look in her eyes and -the tone of her voice had inflamed every spirit-nerve until the sense of -pain was intolerable, he was conscious at the same time of a kind of -fierce satisfaction because the pain could not make him writhe. Whatever -Nancy had withheld from him she had at any rate given him manliness; and -he could hold up his head among other men and walk unashamed. - -When he could no longer see her he walked smartly homewards, busying his -thoughts with the subject that was never far from them, of Inman’s -enmity and Stalker’s attitude of hostility. He had said nothing when -Nancy spoke of the conference between her husband and the policeman -because there had been nothing to say. Everybody knew that they were -taking place, just as everybody knew that Jagger was suspected by the -two of knowing more than any other living soul about the robbery. The -suspicion was too ridiculous to afford him a moment’s uneasiness. Why -should he worry when he had the confidence and goodwill of his -neighbours, every one of whom scouted the notion of his dishonesty as a -conceit that only the brain of an unfriendly foreigner could entertain? - -It puzzled Jagger that so little attention had been paid by the police -to the occurrence, and he felt a sense of personal grievance, (though a -keener sense of amusement left the grievance without sting), at the -thought that their lack of interest and enterprise kept an innocent man -under suspicion. No doubt to these townspeople the loss of five hundred -pounds was an event of no great moment, but Inman was not to be blamed -if he refused to regard it with the same equanimity, and applied himself -to the task of which the professional detectives appeared to have tired. - -Jagger laughed to himself as these thoughts passed through his mind. -“And whilst he’s following this false scent with his precious Stalker,” -he said, “the real fox is getting away. The daft fools!” - -Then a grimmer smile spread over his face. “He calls _me_ a fool,” he -muttered; “but he can’t have it both ways. If I took t’ money I’ve been -too clever for them to find it. Seemingly, he thinks better of me than -he’s willing to take to. Maybe, he’ll find ’at I’m cleverer than he -thinks, for I’ll lay him by the heels yet. He’ll go a bit too far with -his underhanded night jobs, I’ll warrant.” - -Thus switched back to his own concerns his thoughts naturally returned -to Nancy, and the shadow of uneasiness that had never entirely left his -face deepened again. - -“I’d rather she’d kept out of it,” he said, “but she’s bad to shift when -she sets herself, same as most moor-folk; and she’s afraid o’ naught. -However, she has her wits about her, and maybe she’ll pull it off.” - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - IN WHICH MANIWEL LETS JAGGER INTO A SECRET - -“NOT so bad for an old man, Jagger!” said Maniwel, as he passed a rag -with a few last caressing touches over the shining surface of a small -bookcase:—“I say, not so bad for an old fellow wi’ one arm! Bear in -mind, young gaffer, ’at I’ve glass-papered it, stained and polished it, -on my lonesome; and you’ve never put finger to’t. Come over here, -Baldwin, and tha shalt be t’ boss and pass t’ job!” - -Jagger smiled and ungrudgingly admitted that he couldn’t have done -better work himself, but Baldwin had to be summoned a second time before -he approached. - -“Does tha hear, Baldwin? I’m waiting to hear tha say it’ll do!” - -The breezy, encouraging note in Maniwel’s voice brought Baldwin from the -shadows. - -“It ails naught ’at I see on,” he said; “but it’s making game o’ me to -ask for my opinion, when you know better’n I do.” - -There was a trace of peevishness in the reply, and he would have turned -again to his work if Maniwel had not arrested him. - -“Nay, that willn’t do, Baldwin! Tha’s none going to get out o’ thi -responsibilities i’ that fashion. We’re a limited comp’ny o’ three and I -brade o’ t’ parsons i’ thinking ’at three heads is better than two. I -know there’s such things as figure-heads; but neither thee nor me is -ornimental enough for that job. Now just cast thi eye over t’ job, same -as if a ’prentice had done it and then speak thi mind.” - -“There’s no sense i’ this sort o’ play-acting, Maniwel,” said Baldwin; -but he bent forward and examined the work carefully. - -“Tha’s missed a piece o’ t’ underside o’ this bit o’ moulding,” he -remarked a moment or two later; “—there’s an inch or so wi’ no polish -on’t.” - -Jagger shot a glance at his father and caught the wink which was -intended for him alone. - -“Well, that licks all!” said Maniwel, when he had assured himself that -the criticism was just. “I wouldn’t ha’ liked Mr. Harris to ha’ picked -that out, and it’s a good job that eye o’ thine isn’t dimmed Baldwin. Is -there aught else, thinks tha?” - -Baldwin found nothing else and Maniwel picked up the rag again. After a -while Baldwin left the shop and Jagger paused in his work. - -“That was a bit o’ humbug: you left it on purpose for him to find. If -his brain hadn’t been softening he’d ha’ known it.” - -“His brain’s right enough,” Maniwel replied “He never had more than he -could make use of, and what he had he didn’t work over hard. If it’s -softening, a bit o’ exercise’ll harden it. It’s his self-respect he’s -been letting go and I’m wanting him to get it back, or we shall be -having him on t’ coffin-board before long.” - -If Jagger’s thoughts could have been read it would possibly have been -found that this prospect afforded him no great dissatisfaction, and it -was thus that his father interpreted his silence. - -“There’s many a twisted bit o’ timber can be put to good use if you’ll -study how to fit it in,” he remarked. “A boss ’at’s gifted wi’ -gumption’ll see ’at naught’s wasted, and turn t’ rubbish into profit. -I’m looking forward to Baldwin being a help to t’ concern.” - -Jagger smiled and went on with his work, having learned by experience -that there was nothing to be gained by disputing his father’s -philosophy, but after an interval of silence he again allowed his saw to -remain suspended in mid-course. - -“How much were you saying there is in t’ bank?” he inquired. - -“Above two hundred pound,” replied Maniwel. “We’ve had a good friend i’ -t’ squire, lad; a ready-money friend means a deal to them ’at’s short o’ -brass.” - -“If we’d had a better shop,” said Jagger contemplatively, “we could ha’ -put in an engine before so long.” - -“Aye, aye, but we must be content to creep till we find we can walk. -Steady does it, my lad! We’re doing better than like.” - -Jagger’s saw went on biting into the board, but before long it was -allowed to rest again. - -“What did you send Baldwin home for?” - -Maniwel came forward and leaned against the bench where he could see his -son’s face and watch its expression. - -“’Cause I knew you’d something you wanted to say,” he answered; “and -there was naught partic’lar for him to do. He’ll be company for -grannie.” - -“Knew _I_’d something to say?” The question was intended for a denial; -but Jagger’s cheeks told another story. - -“And I guessed,” continued his father calmly; “’at it had something to -do wi’ him. Out wi’t!” - -“You beat all!” said Jagger in a tone that showed how admiration had -conquered discomfiture. “It’s as bad as having them X-rays you read -about i’ t’ shop! A man may think what he isn’t prepared to speak, and I -don’t know ’at I was going to say aught.” - -“When there’s any bile about, whether on t’ mind or t’ stomach,” said -Maniwel dryly, “t’ best way is to get shut on’t. We shall none fall out -if you speak your mind straight about Baldwin.” - -Now that the opportunity was afforded and his confidence invited it -surprised Jagger to find how little there was to say, and how difficult -it was to say that little. In the olden days he would probably have -sought refuge in surly silence; but now he looked frankly into his -father’s face and blurted out— - -“Home isn’t t’ same since Baldwin came into it. He’d choke t’ song out -of a throstle with his sour looks! It isn’t ’at I grudge him bite and -sup, and he’s welcome to try to pick up a living alongside of us, but I -can’t bide a wet-blanket on our own hearthston’, and I know Hannah feels -t’ same.” - -“I’m not capped, lad; I feel t’ same way myself, and if all for my-sen’ -was my motto I’d pay some decent body a toathri shillings a week to take -him in and do for him—” - -“If that was your motto,” interrupted Jagger, “you’d let him go to t’ -Union.” - -“If you and Hannah says he musn’t stop,” continued Maniwel ignoring the -correction; “course he’ll have to go, and we’ll talk it over among -ourselves and see what’s best to be done. But I’ll take to’t ’at I could -like to try a bit longer. He’s lost his nasty tongue, and his temper’s -had most o’ t’ fizz ta’en out on’t, and mebbe after a bit t’ sun’ll get -through t’ crust and he’ll be more likeable. Now if you and Hannah could -just bring yourselves to think ’at he’s a millionaire uncle ’at’s asked -himself to stay wi’ us for a bit....”—he looked slyly into his son’s -face and saw the mouth twist into a smile—“and ’at it ’ud happen pay -you to put up wi’ a bit o’ discomfort for t’ sake—” - -“That’ll do, father!” Jagger was laughing now. “I doubt if Hannah and me -could manage as much as that. All we can expect Baldwin to leave us is -his room, and that’ll be welcome. But we’ll say no more about it. If you -feel t’ same way as us and are willing to put up with it Hannah and -me’ll make t’ best of it.” - -“Nay, lad, we’ll go on a piece further, now we’ve getten started. You -and me’s partners and should know each other’s minds; and I’ve something -to tell you ’at I once thought to take wi’ me to t’ grave. You’ll tell -nob’dy else while either Baldwin or me’s living and after we’re gone -there’ll be no need to say aught. Sit you down, lad!” - -There was an unaccustomed note of gravity in Maniwel’s voice and a -pained look in his eyes, which Jagger observed with surprise and -uneasiness, but he made no remark and seated himself on a trestle where -he could look into his father’s face. - -Maniwel had hoisted himself on to the bench, and his hand played among -the loose shavings for a while before he lifted his head and spoke. - -“You know what your grannie says about t’ Briggses?—a black, bad lot, -cursed wi’ meanness and low, underhanded ways. It was so wi’ Baldwin’s -father and his father before him. There wasn’t a fam’ly on t’ moor ’at -had a worse name than what they had, and it was t’ lad’s misfortun’ mind -you, not his fault, to be born into such a lot. - -“Him an’ me’s of an age. We picked up a bit o’ schooling together and we -went marlocking together. I liked him as well as I liked Old Nick, but -his folks were our nearest neighbours, and there wasn’t so many lads to -laik wi’ up on t’ moor so we were forced, as you may say, to be mates. -We fell out many a time i’ t’ week, and fell in again. He took a delight -i’ torturing birds and animals, and I’ve thrashed him many a dozen times -for’t. He was awlus a coward and a sneak, and ’ud scream same as a -rabbit wi’ a weasel on its back t’ minute he was touched. He was a dull -lad at his books, barring ’at he was quick at figures same as all his -lot; but he was a rare hand at a bargain, and beat his dad at being -nippy—” - -A humorous recollection brought a twinkle into Maniwel’s eyes, and he -went on— - -“We were biggish lads when I got stuck i’ t’ bog one day; and a rare -mess I was in I can tell you. It wasn’t oft ’at I was flayed; but t’ -sweat poured out o’ me that time, and t’ harder I struggled to get loose -t’ deeper I sunk. You may bet I hollered for Baldwin, and when he came -up he stood on t’ edge and says—‘Now, tha’s made a mullock on it! What -is it worth to help tha out? Is it worth thi new knife?’ He got t’ -knife, but I leathered him his jacket while he roared for mercy when I’d -getten my strength back.” - -Jagger’s face was hard and his father laughed. - -“I could tell you more tales o’ t’ same sort, but that’ll do for a -sample. When t’ time come for us to leave school we were both ’prenticed -at t’ same time to Tom Clegg, and we worked side by side for many a year -as you know. Tom was a queer ’un, wi’ a heap o’ funny notions in his -noddle, but he kept a firm grip on t’ shop as long as he’d his health, -and Baldwin and me were his main hands. He liked me t’ best o’ t’ two, I -know; but he saw how keen Baldwin was, and he thought he got more work -out o’ t’ men than what I did. Happen he did, for he was awlus a driver, -and as long as he could squeeze a bit more brass out o’ Tom for his-self -he was ready enough to squeeze a bit more work out o’ t’ men. - -“Well, Tom was ta’en badly as you know, and when he couldn’t get t’ -price he wanted for his business he let on that scheme ’at put it i’ t’ -long run into Baldwin’s hands. It’s trewth I’m telling you when I say -’at he’d made dead certain ’at I should get it, for he knew I’d a better -headpiece than Baldwin; but he reckoned to want what he called -‘fairation’ so he gave us both the same chance. - -“I’m coming now to t’ point I set out for. Baldwin did well; but I -should ha’ beaten him hand over hand if I hadn’t happened my accident, -and Baldwin saw it. That accident, lad, was planned for me——!” - -Jagger uttered an exclamation of dismay and rose from his seat, with -anger flashing from his eyes. Maniwel’s voice had been quite calm and -low, and he did not raise it now. - -“Sit down, lad, and keep your hand on t’ brake! Remember, what I’m -telling you now is a trust. Twelve months since you’d have been t’ last -I should ha’ spoken to, for this meat’s over strong for babes; but -you’re a man now. - -“I say it was planned, and that’s all I’m going to tell you, and it’s -all you need to know. He isn’t aware ’at I fun him out, and he isn’t -going to be tell’d. He’s hugged his sin about wi’ him all these years, -and nob’dy knows but his-self what he’s suffered.” - -“Suffered!” Jagger’s tone was as low as his father’s, but charged with -unbelief and contempt. “It’s _you_ that’s suffered, you and -us,—aye—and Nancy too! I could screw the dirty devil his neck round -when I look at that empty sleeve! You shouldn’t ha’ told me if you want -me to keep my hands off him!” - -“When you’ve finished blowing t’ steam off I’ll go on,” said his father. -“I reckoned I should upset you a bit, and it’s naught but nat’ral, but -you must hear me out. I _know_ he’s suffered—why, he turned again’ me -from that very moment and couldn’t bide me in his sight; and though he -couldn’t fashion but take you on it must ha’ cost him summat to see you -i’ your father’s place. Them at wrote t’ Owd Book knew what they were -talking about, lad. They didn’t say ’at sin was sure to be fun out; but -‘be sure your sin’ll find _you_ out!’ and you may bet on’t ’at Baldwin’s -fun _him_ out long sin’.” - -Jagger grunted, and his father smiled. - -“There’s one thing ’at shames me,” he continued, “and that’s seeming to -make it out ’at I’m better than other folks. I’m no saint, as I happen -needn’t tell them ’at lives wi’ me; but I reckoned things up when I was -a young man and I come to t’ conclusion ’at there must be a better way -o’ living than most folks followed, and I said to myself ’at I’d give t’ -Owd Book a fair trial and see if there was aught in it. I read there ’at -t’ best way to get on i’ t’ world was to put t’ cart before t’ horse, by -doing good to them ’at hate you and praying for them ’at despitefully -use you and persecute you. It’s a queer sort o’ teaching when you come -to think on’t, but I threshed it out i’ my mind and fun it was right. -_There’s no other way ’at pays._ That’s why I lost naught but my arm -when I happened my accident—neither my peace o’ mind nor my goodwill to -Baldwin; and that’s why you and Hannah’s had no ’casion to grumble about -wet blankets all these years. I’ve waited a long while for my revenge on -Baldwin; but you see I’ve getten it at last: ‘If thine enemy hunger, -feed him; if he thirst, give him drink’. What think you, lad?” - -He raised his eyes as he asked the question, and the look on his son’s -face disappointed him. Instead of understanding there was bitterness and -resentment: the hot indignation of a loyal and straight-dealing son -against the treachery of a false friend. A smile spread slowly over the -father’s features as he saw that no reply was forthcoming. - -“T’ meat’s a bit over strong, is it?” he went on. “Chew it, lad, while -you get t’ taste on’t; and just think on ’at if you’d been Baldwin’s son -i’stead o’ mine it’s a thousand to one you’d ha’ been born wi’ his -sperrit. Baldwin has no childer—him and Keturah’s t’ last o’ their -race, and it’s happen as well—but when t’ time comes ’at he has to hand -in his last time-sheet I could like to think it ’ud be a clean ’un. So -I’m for giving him a leg up, d’ye see?” - -“What have you told me this story for?” Jagger asked. His father’s -calmness had affected him and he now had his feelings under control, -though he was not yet appeased. “He’s paid for all t’ dirty tricks he’s -played _me_, and I’d rubbed t’ reckoning off t’ slate; but I’m hanged if -I can forgive him that empty sleeve.” - -“This empty sleeve,” said Maniwel, “is t’ price I’ve paid for t’ man. -Say no more about it—_I’m_ satisfied. I’ve tell’d you for two reasons. -One on ’em’s this: mebbe Baldwin’ll feel called on to tell you his-self -one o’ these days, and I’d like him to know ’at you knew. It ’ud help -him and it’ll save you from saying or doing aught you’d have to rue. - -“But there’s another thing ’at’s weighed wi’ me: you’ve getten a worse -enemy than ever I had. Yon Inman is plotting again’ you, and you’re -plotting again’ him, and it means naught but trouble. When you’ve getten -used to t’ thought I could like you to try my plan o’ getting rid of a’ -enemy.” - -“Happen I will,” said Jagger grimly, “when I see him beggared same as -Baldwin.” - -“If he’d ha’ let me, I’d ha’ tried to save Baldwin from beggary,” -replied his father with a calm dignity that showed he had understood the -implication. - -Jagger flushed hotly. “I didn’t mean that,” he protested and Maniwel -said—“Right, lad; there’s no bones broken.” - -“Then would you have me let Inman go his own way, and play any devil’s -trick he likes on us?” said Jagger, and his father shook his head. - -“Nay, lad,” he said with greater animation; “watch him and best him! You -can’t please me better than by showing him you’re t’ best man o’ t’ two, -so long as you keep on t’ Straight Road. But spare him a bit o’ pity, -for hate’s same as a knife ’at lacks a haft—a tool ’at hurts him ’at -tries to stab wi’t.” - -“It’s a bit too tough for my teeth, is your meat,” said Jagger. - -“Then just swallow t’ juice,” said his father, as a smile spread over -his face and twinkled in his eyes; “and put t’ rest on’t out. Come lad; -we’ll go in and see how t’ blanket’s going on.” - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - IN WHICH NANCY PLAYS THE PART OF DETECTIVE - -A MILE away from the village the traveller on the Girston Road may -pass a solitary and substantial farm and never know that he is within a -field-length of the most alluring and perhaps the greatest of Mawm’s -natural wonders. - -There is nothing in the configuration of the landscape that suggests the -extraordinary. Low-lying hills on the right slope gently down to -grey-green pastures which have been wrested from the moors. The road -itself, hemmed in by loosely-built limestone walls, is little better -than a cart-track, and runs out upon the moor when it reaches the last -gaunt farm, a mile or two farther on. The hills on the left are loftier, -but no less kindly in their sober green homespun, and the brook that -tumbles over its rocky bed and roars beneath the bridge is not more -boisterous than many another moorland stream. - -If, however, curiosity should cause you to leave the road at the stile, -or if ignoring that provision for shortening your journey you pass -through the yard at the back of the farm, and with the stream for your -guide make your way up the narrowing valley, you will by and by acquaint -yourself with the stupendous spectacle of Gordale Scar, a chasm - - “——terrific as the lair, - Where the young lions couch.” - -It is at a sudden bend in the hills that you come unawares upon the -astonishing vision, but before you reach that point the landscape -clothes itself in sack-cloth and throws ashes on its head as if it -realised that the green pastures were to end in the Valley of the Shadow -of Death, and it must drape itself seemly. In winter especially there is -a look of Sodom and Gomorrah about the place—a charred, lifeless look -that is weird and depressing. On the one hand the slender stems of ash -and hazel, rising grey from the grey hill-slope, seem as though some -storm of fire had swept them. Here and there a dead tree, stripped of -its bark, still mocks the power of the wild winds that are forcing it -earthwards. On the left the cragged hill sweeps round in a quick -semi-circle to shut in the valley. Like ragged ramparts its serrated, -rocky outline shows crisp against the sky; screes of loose stone, from -which here and there a huge boulder uprears its bulk, cover the sides; -and other boulders, hurled down by successive avalanches, line the bank -of the stream. - -This, however, is only the cheerless bodement of what is beyond. When -the sweep of the semi-circle forces you round the curve of the hill the -vision of stern grandeur and majesty may well rob you of speech. - -The hills have drawn together until they almost meet, but they are no -longer hills—they are stupendous, unscaleable precipices of rock, three -hundred feet high. Grim and forbidding—black rather than grey—they -offer no hospitality to the foot of man; but jackdaws and ravens make -their home there, and birds of prey may sometimes be seen perching on -the crags. - -Into this roofless cavern—for there is evidence that the beetling rocks -that project overhead once met in a great arch—the stream projects -itself by a series of waterfalls which roar in time of flood like the -“young lions” of Wordsworth’s fancy, and rushes along its stony channel -scattering white foam upon the piled-up boulders that almost fill the -floor of the chasm and make progress difficult. Steps have been cut in -the rock beside the lower waterfall so that even the inexpert may climb -to the “upper air,” and on their way to the higher reaches of the stream -may trace out for themselves the course of the great convulsions that -gave to Mawm its wonderland. Level with the summit of the cliffs is the -moor with its far-stretching fissured platforms of grey limestone. - -Awe-inspiring even in brilliant sunshine the chasm is really “terrific” -at night. Then the frowning cliffs roof themselves in with blackness and -the roar of the Stygian stream is direful. Man shuns it, and the birds -that shriek and chatter there are birds of ill-omen. - -Between the hours of twelve and one on a dark night in the last week of -March when yet the faint crescent of a new moon gave a glimmer of light, -a man made his way stealthily across the field, and in the shadow of the -high walls, towards the Scar. When he reached the entrance he sat down -on a rock with his back to the cliff, and for the space of ten minutes -remained absolutely motionless. But though his body was still, his -intelligence was alert, and his senses were scouting for him. He was -accustoming himself to the sounds that become easily distinguishable -when one listens intently; and training his eyes to penetrate the -darkness. Directly opposite to where he sat the ravine touched hands -with the valley; the frowning western cliff ran out upon the moor and -became dismembered; the upper part falling back from the lower. On the -intervening space a portion of the steep slope was carpeted with green; -but the greater part was covered with a thick deposit of loose shingle, -the plunder snatched by wild free-booting storms from the rocks -overhead. Below there was another wall of rock of no great height above -the stream that raged at its base. - -Inman—for the nocturnal visitor was he—rose at last, and as if -satisfied that no further precautions of an elaborate nature were -necessary, crossed the stream and set himself to scale the rock. -Apparently he was familiar with his task, for he climbed confidently and -before long had his feet upon the shingle. It was here that the more -serious part of the adventure began, and from the hesitating way in -which he set out upon the second part of his journey it was evident that -he regarded it with some distaste. - -Every movement of his feet sent a mass of loose stones hurtling down the -slope, and he made slow progress. To his sensitive ears the noise was -appalling, for the air was still and sound travelled far. In the -distance a dog began to bark, and kept on barking loudly and uneasily, -but although Inman cursed it in his heart he did not allow it to affect -his movements. Helping himself forward with his hands, he had almost -reached the stretch of green at which he was aiming when a too eager -step set the unstable track in motion; and in spite of his efforts—it -may be even because of them—he was carried with ever-accelerating speed -down the precipitous incline and only saved himself at the very edge of -the low cliff. - -For some minutes he lay prone, thinking deeply, whilst the shingle -continued to roll past him. After a while it ceased to fall, and he had -just determined to rise and make a second attempt when he became -convinced that the dog was loose and coming in his direction, whereupon -panic seized him, and having groped with his toes until he found a -crevice in the rock, he lowered himself to the ground. - -Arrived there, he listened again and was satisfied the barking was -nearer, so instead of returning by the fields which would almost -certainly have meant an encounter with the dog, he made his way to the -foot of the waterfall, and by means of the steps cut in the face of the -rock reached the hazardous path that led to the moors. - -He was now safe from pursuit by any dog; but imagination was by this -time active, and a movement that he thought he heard in the ravine below -checked the impulse to stay, and he hurried on. Angry disappointment at -the failure of his enterprise filled his thoughts with bitterness, and -his brow was black as Gordale itself as he strode over the moor. To -severe mental disturbance there was also added physical discomfort, for -rain began to fall heavily, and he was soon very wet. By the time he -reached the road he was in a disagreeable mood; but his spirits revived -somewhat when he found himself on his own doorstep and reflected that he -had reached home unobserved. - -“The usual Inman luck!” he said to himself with gloomy satisfaction. - -He was of a different mind the next moment, for the new Chubb lock he -had fixed failed to respond to the demand of the key and he found -himself locked out. Very stealthily he raised the latch and put his knee -to the door. It was secured by the heavy lock, and the latch of the -Chubb was evidently pegged back. Someone had tampered with it in his -absence! - -The frown deepened on his face, but he did not lose his self-command, -and having looked cautiously round he struck a match, and shading it -with his hands stooped down and examined the flagstone in front of the -door. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned and entered his workshop, -where he made his way to the office, but sleep was far from his eyes and -thoughts, and he was conscious of no lack. When day came stealing down -the moors, he went out and tried the latchlock on the house-door again. -This time it responded at once, and he nodded his head slowly as if a -hypothesis had received support, and went upstairs to his room. - -When he heard Keturah bustling about in the kitchen he went across the -landing into his wife’s room. Nancy, in bed and awake, looked up in -surprise when Inman came and stood beside her. - -“What ails you?” she asked. - -For a moment he allowed his stern eyes to be his sole weapon of attack, -but when her face remained fearless he began to speak. - -“Innocent child!” he sneered; “innocent lamb! What a pity your husband -isn’t simple and innocent too! Then you could play with his hair, and -coo him to sleep with nice little songs, and sell him to his enemies, -like the painted woman in the Bible!” - -“Have you lost your reason, James, or are you drunk?” - -Though a savage gleam was replacing the sneer in the cold eyes she -thrust back fear and spoke quite calmly. - -“You devil!” he replied without opening his teeth. “I could find it in -my heart to admire your pluck and your cunning if it wasn’t too -dangerous. You’re playing your part well, but your acting’s thrown away -on me, my lass. Your lip trembles at the corners and your heart’s -sinking in spite of your bold face. You know you’re found out, and will -have to be punished; you hell-spawn, you!” - -His coolness and the note of concentrated hate and power in his voice -chilled Nancy’s heart, and made her conscious that unless he was -conciliated her husband was in a mood to torture her; but she was never -less disposed to conciliate; on the contrary, she experienced a reckless -desire to laugh and risk the consequences; and when she spoke her voice -was charged with contemptuous and half-amused defiance. - -“God knows what you’re getting at! If you’ve anything to say, get it -said like a man, and don’t think you can frighten me out o’ my wits by -glowering at me as if I’d turned street-walker——” - -As she uttered the word she knew by the look that leaped to his eyes -that she had given him his opportunity, and she stopped involuntarily. - -“That pulls you up, does it?” he asked. “As _if_ you’d turned -street-walker, you say! That reminds me, I’ve a little visit of -inspection to make to your wardrobe.” - -He turned as he spoke and walked over to the recess where her clothes -were hanging and she raised herself on her elbow and watched him. - -“If you’re seeking the coat and skirt I wore this morning,” she said, -“you might have seen that they’re hanging over the chair to dry on this -side of the bed. I don’t put my things away wet.” - -“Then you admit you were out this morning?” He wheeled round as he asked -the question, and his eyes blazed. - -“And why not?” she answered. “If you’d been awake you’d have heard me -go. There’s no law against a woman going out if she can’t sleep, is -there? What’s all the fuss about?” - -Not a line of the man’s expression changed. - -“Tell me truly why you went,” he demanded, striding up to the bed again, -and looking into her face with a threatening scowl. - -“Tell me!” he repeated, and seizing her wrist in his strong palm he -twisted it roughly. - -“I have told you already!” she replied, and set her teeth to hold back -an exclamation of pain. - -“I’ll have the truth if I murder you!” he said, bending her arm until -the pain brought unwilling tears to her eyes. - -Still she was silent, and her lips closed firmly, whereupon the tiger in -the man conquered his self-control, and in a sudden gust of rage he -seized her by the throat, and as he tightened his grip upon it, hissed: - -“Then listen and I’ll tell _you_! You spied on me, you she-devil! -Whether you’d any other motive than curiosity I don’t know, but you’ve -got to tell me everything or I’ll choke the life out of you. Now speak!” - -He widened his fingers, but still kept them on her throat, and she never -raised her hands in what must have been a vain effort to free herself, -but kept them tightly clasped on her breast. - -“Do your worst!” she said hoarsely. “Brute and coward! Kill me, if you -like, and hang for me! Do you think it’s any catch to live tied to a man -like you? I wouldn’t say a word to save you from hell!” - -Strangely, her boldness sobered him, and he threw her head back on the -pillow with a movement that was almost a blow, and walked over to the -window. In less than a minute he turned and spoke from that position. - -“Is it me or yon rake-hell of a Jagger you’re after? Answer me that!” - -Scorn flashed from the dark eyes at the inquiry, but there was no other -reply. - -“Will you give me your word not to leave the house again at night?” - -“I’m not your slave!” she answered. “You’ve called me devil and -threatened to kill me—I’ll promise you nothing!” - -“Then you’re a prisoner in this room,” he said. “You can get up or not, -just as you please, but here you’ll remain until I release you”; and -with these words he left the room, locking the door behind him. - -Nancy made no attempt to rise, but leaned back on her pillows and -considered the situation. She realised at once what must have happened; -that in the interval between her reaching her room and the moment, -nearly an hour later, when she remembered she had turned the lock in the -outer door and omitted to drop the latch, her husband had returned and -made his deductions. - -“He would see my footmarks, too, if he sought for them,” she reflected. -“What a stupid mess I made of it!” - -Though he had treated her so roughly she was surprised to find herself -thinking of her husband without resentment. A bracelet of red on her -wrist showed with what merciless force he had gripped her, and her arm -and shoulder ached as with the gnawing pain of a bared nerve; but to a -woman of her hard race these things were trifles, and less than might -have been expected from a man of Inman’s breed. She even excused him, -realising the mortification he must feel at the suspicion that his own -wife was plotting against him. It was a game they were playing, and she -had made a wrong move—a pitiably careless move which well merited -punishment; but he had nothing more than inference to go upon when he -charged her with spying, and the game was not over. - -She rose and dressed, made the bed and tidied the room, and finally -seated herself by the open window. The moors lay warm in the embrace of -the sunshine and unseen birds were chirping their grace for the bounties -of the moistened earth. Nancy wondered if she was to be left -breakfastless, but she was not hungry enough to be concerned. “They say -fasting sharpens the wits,” she reflected. - -What was the meaning of the Gordale adventure? All the night through she -had puzzled her brains and found no answer. She had feared to follow -when she saw her husband pass over the stile that led to the Scar; but -curiosity had got the better of nervousness and she had gone round by -the farm, forgetting the watch-dog in the yard whose noisy greeting -drove her back to the roadway. Eventually she had climbed the wall some -distance away, and reached the chasm when the rumbling of the stones was -just beginning. Fascinated by what her senses told her was proceeding, -she had taken up her position behind a rock and awaited results. - -The barking of the dog had given her no concern, though she was -surprised that it was continued so long; and when the catastrophe -occurred and Inman found himself on comparatively level ground again, -she had been unable to account for the speed with which he left the -gorge and for his choice of that inconvenient exit. It had, however, put -pursuit out of the question, and she had returned home by the much -shorter field-path, arriving a full half hour before Inman. She had -fastened back the latch before leaving and locked the door with the big -key, as she had felt certain that her husband’s project would enable her -to return first, and it was preoccupied thoughts and the force of habit -that had led her to secure the door in the old familiar way, by which -unfortunate blunder she was now finding herself thwarted. - -She was thinking about it, but making no progress towards a solution of -the mystery when Inman entered with her breakfast. - -“Close that window!” he commanded, as he set down the tray on the bed. - -“I prefer it open,” she replied. “Even prisoners are allowed air.” - -He made no reply but left the room, returning a minute later with screws -and screwdriver, by means of which he made the window secure. Neither of -the two spoke until the work was finished, and Nancy poured out her tea -with a steady hand. - -“Hadn’t you better board it up?” she asked as he put the screwdriver in -his pocket. “What’s to hinder me from breaking the window?” - -“The thought that I’ll break your neck!” he replied grimly. - -She laughed mockingly, all the moorwoman in her roused to defy him. - -“You dursn’t!” she said. “You’re all for yourself, James, and a man -who’s all for himself isn’t for doing the hangman a good turn! Your -mind’s willing enough, I daresay, but putting me out o’ my misery -wouldn’t help your game.” - -“That’s true!” he replied, with a calmness equal to her own. “You’ve -beaten me so far, but I’ll find a way of hurting you, my lass. I’ll -squeeze the blood from your heart drop by drop before I’ve done! Aye, -and from that pet-rabbit of yours, too! He’ll scream when the weasel -gets his teeth in his neck! There’ll be no mercy then!” - -“You can’t hurt him!” she said proudly. “He’s too big and good for you!” - -She thought he would have struck her, but he restrained himself and left -the room without a word, locking the door behind him; and for a moment -Nancy’s heart sank. She was thinking not of herself but of Jagger. - -“He can’t hurt him,” she repeated. “Maniwel’ll see to that!” - -Subconsciously there was the feeling that Maniwel was in favour with the -high court of Heaven, and that his influence would shield his son. - -“I must get word to Jagger somehow,” she said to herself. “What James is -up to I can’t think; but he’ll finish the job to-night if I’m out o’ the -way, and he ought to be watched. - -“He’s locked me up, has he?” she went on a moment later, as a faint -smile overspread her face “Love laughs at locksmiths and so does hate.” - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - IN WHICH MANIWEL AND JAGGER JOIN IN THE GAME - -INMAN’S mind took holiday from the work on which his hands were -employed that day, and busied itself in shaping a course of action that -would meet the requirements of the moment. He was disturbed to find that -the machinery was not adequate to its task, that it moved slowly and -during long periods was entirely unproductive. - -Nancy’s attitude puzzled him, but it did more: it gave him greater -concern than the circumstances, as he construed them, warranted. Not for -one moment would he allow himself to believe that she had followed him -to Gordale, for he was of that number of men, themselves superior to -superstitious fears and unafraid of the terror by night in its most -gruesome forms or haunts, who assume that all women are cowards in the -dark and the ready prey of silly fears; and hold them to be -constitutionally incapable of adventuring alone in Erebus. - -There were moments when he persuaded himself that her own simple -explanation was the right one, and she had been merely restless, and -then he cursed himself for having shown his hand. But his reason, as -well as prejudice and apprehension, refused to entertain the thought -long; her eyes had given the lie to her lips. He dismissed, too, though -less quickly, the reflection that mere curiosity, the very natural -desire of a wife to discover what takes her husband abroad at night, had -led her to follow him. His lip curled with something like satisfaction -as it occurred to him that she perhaps suspected another intrigue! - -But the revolution of the machine always brought back his thoughts to -Jagger. It was for her lover she was working—the lover whom he had -injured but neither disheartened nor destroyed, and who no doubt found -means of pouring his complaints into her sympathetic ears. It was -intuition rather than reason that led him to the right conclusion, and -told him that though he might throw dust in Stalker’s eyes and make that -credulous fool drunk with flattery and greed, he could not deceive his -wife. She knew both husband and lover too well to misjudge either. - -It was characteristic of the man that in the course of his reflections -it never once crossed his mind that his policy had been mistaken. -Far-sighted as he thought himself, he was incapable of understanding how -the loyalty of a woman like Nancy would have kept her from abusing her -husband’s confidences, if they had been offered her, however distasteful -his projects might have been to her judgment and heart. He was naturally -secretive and distrustful; and like all men who scheme only for -themselves, suspicious of everybody. His cleverness was cunning; there -was always the danger that he might over-reach himself—in the common -expression he was “too clever by half.” His greatest fault was -precipitancy; he had to struggle hard against the temptation to stand -beside the snares he set in order that he might see the prey enter. The -Wise Man asserts that “he that maketh haste to be rich shall not be -unpunished.” He might have added that the punishment was likely to be -self-administered; a man cannot spur himself fiercely and constantly and -escape wounds! - -Inman’s success so far had been quick and gratifying, but he was not -satisfied, and the greatest obstacles in the path of his contentment -were the Drakes—father and son. The old man he disliked not because he -was a competitor (for competition was in the nature of things and not to -be avoided), but because of his air of cheerful assurance, because of -his frank, fearless eye and the reproach of his unfailing goodwill. The -younger he hated, and with just cause (as he thought) on account of his -continued intimacy with Nancy. That a single kiss had been the extent of -their illicit connection his prurient mind rejected as incredible; and -he was like the rest of his kind in regarding as unpardonable in the -wife what was venial in the husband. - -His mind had been undecided, and therefore he had locked Nancy in her -bedroom, just as he might have locked a dangerous weapon in a drawer—to -keep her from doing any mischief until the opportunity should have -passed. - -There remained Keturah. Despite her tearful peevishness there was a -grain of obstinacy in the woman’s nature which made her hardly -manageable, and might prove awkward if Nancy should gain her ear and -sympathies. His quick judgment decided that she must be got out of the -way for a day or two; and when the morning post brought her a letter -that opened the floodgates wide he became inwardly elated. - -“This is what Maniwel would call an answer to prayer,” he said to -himself. “My luck’s changed, I shall go on all right now.” - -To Keturah he turned a gloomy face. - -“Ill, is she? And what’s Nancy to do if you go traipsing off to nurse -another woman?” - -“I wouldn’t ha’ cared,” wailed Keturah, “if there’d been anyone -near-hand to do for her; but to be on her back and not a soul i’ t’ -house if her girds come on——! It caps me what’s ta’en Nancy. She was -right enough when she went to bed.” - -“I suppose we should be able to manage,” he conceded with lessened -gruffness. “Get upstairs and put your things on, and see you don’t -disturb Nancy. You’ll not be more than two or three days, I reckon?” - -“But I’d best just have a word with her before I go?” she protested. - -“You’d best do as I tell you,” he snapped, “or you won’t go at all!” - -It was not much better than prison fare that Inman took upstairs during -the day, and he was content with simple meals himself. When night fell -he set an inch or two of candle on the dressing table, with the curt -recommendation to get to bed and make up for the previous night’s loss -of sleep, to which she made no reply. - -No sooner had the sound of his footsteps on the stairs ceased than a -change came over her. She rose with alacrity, drew down the blind and -lit the candle, after which she went up to the door and secured it on -the inside with the bolt Inman had fixed as a measure of precaution when -he had brought home Nancy’s money. A smile was in her eyes but her mouth -was determined. “What a clever fool he is!” she said to herself; “and -how thoughtful of him to send Keturah away. Every plan he makes fails!” - -The recess beside the fireplace had been made into a closet which served -the purpose of a wardrobe, and was filled with Nancy’s clothes. A shelf -ran across the upper portion, filled with hat boxes and the like, and -the various skirts and coats which concealed the background were -themselves screened by similar garments that were suspended from hooks -affixed to the shelf. - -This outer layer of everyday apparel Nancy proceeded to remove, together -with one or two others from the row behind. It was then possible to see -that the back of the recess was composed of a door of plain boards and -ancient workmanship which had at one time afforded a means of -communication with the next apartment. - -Treading cautiously, she crossed the strip of carpet and stepped out on -to the landing. Her husband was still in the house, for she could hear -his voice below in conversation with another, which she recognised as -Stalker’s, and she had to wait awhile before the two men came out and -stood in the passage. - -“I shall be back i’ t’ village by twelve at t’ latest,” the policeman -was saying. “I reckon t’ sergeant’ll meet me down Kirkby way somewhere -about eleven. I’ll be back afore Drake gets stirring—if he stirs at -all.” - -“Then you think he’s given the job up?” Inman asked. - -“He knows I’ve my eye on him,” the other replied. “Whether he’s stalled -or no time’ll tell.” - -“I’ve to see Tom Horton at Kirkby,” Inman remarked. “He sits up late, -does Tom, and if I walk down with you we can talk things over as we go -along. When I get back I’ll keep an eye on the Drakes’ house for a bit.” - -The outer door closed, and from the window Nancy saw their shadowy forms -disappear round the corner of the road. Without a moment’s hesitation -she went downstairs and unbarring the kitchen window, climbed out, and -having closed the sash behind her sped towards the beck and across the -green to the Drakes’ house. The retreating forms of her husband and his -companion could just be discerned in the faint moonlight far down the -road as she knocked at the door. - -“Is Jagger in?” she whispered when Hannah came. “Tell him I want him—at -once—and come you with him.” - -“Come where?” asked Hannah, in astonishment. - -“Here!” said Nancy impatiently. “Bring him out and shut the door. -There’s no time to lose!” - -She had one eye on the road as she spoke, and she kept it there when -Hannah and Jagger joined her; but however apprehensive she may have been -of her husband’s return, she told her story clearly and concisely. - -“What’ll you do?” she asked when Jagger made no immediate comment. “I -can’t make head or tail of it.” - -“I’ll go see what I can make on’t,” he said, “before he gets a chance to -get there. It’s a rum do!” - -“And if he finds you there?” she asked. - -“If he finds me there, there’ll happen be trouble,” he replied; “but -I’ve t’ same right to be i’ Gordel that he has. Anyway, I’m going.” - -“Will you take Jack with you?” she asked anxiously. “James’ll do you a -mischief if he can.” - -“Aye, take Jack,” said Hannah. “It’s as well to be on t’ safe side.” - -“Two ’ud happen bungle it,” he said. “I’m a match for Jim Inman any day. -I’ll go now, before either of ’em gets back.” - -Nancy returned home, and the gloom of Gordel settled on her spirits as -she bolted herself into her prison-house again. The candle had set fire -to its paper packing and burnt itself out; but when she drew up the -blind a gleam of light entered from the sky and she had no difficulty in -replacing the garments on their hooks. When the work was finished she -did not undress. A sense of weariness and hopelessness crushed her. Her -husband would know that she had tricked him and would make her pay the -penalty. What would it be? How long would this sort of thing continue? -The long vista of the road she was destined to travel with a husband who -hated her and whom she despised spread itself before her. She was -afraid, too, for Jagger, and a hundred times over upbraided herself for -having sent him into danger, without adequate cause; a hundred times -over lamented the curiosity that had moved her to do it. Once or twice -it crossed her mind that it would have been better to have seen Maniwel -instead of Jagger; he was so sane and strong and dependable—so safe, -too; for Nancy shared the prevalent belief or superstition that no real -harm could befall Maniwel Drake; but another inward counsellor brushed -the suggestion aside. - -“He’d say, ‘What business is it of ours? Let him go his own gait; and -get you up to bed!’” - -Troubled as she was, Nancy smiled, for the voice told her that curiosity -was stronger than reason, and that at heart it pleased her to know that -Jagger would not shirk the adventure. A moment later a shiver ran -through her, and her heart beat painfully as she pictured a struggle -between two strong men in that lonely ravine. A bank of clouds quenched -the light of the young moon, and with her imagination quickened by the -darkness that wrapped her round, the vision became so real that she -almost screamed, and the sound in her throat roused her. - -“You silly fool!” she said aloud. “You’re getting hysterical. Stir -yourself!” - -She went over to the window and endeavoured to look out, but there was -little to be seen except a few faint stars and the black outline of -earth that touched the sky. - -“I’ll have it out with him,” she determined. “I’ll tell him we’d better -separate. He’s got most of the money, and that’s all he cares about. -It’ll be a relief to us both!” - -The decision steadied her. - -“I may as well go to bed,” she continued, “but I’ll keep the bolt on the -door. He’ll be fit to choke me when he comes home if he’s happened -across Jagger!” - -Meantime Jagger, having taken rapid counsel with himself and Hannah, had -determined to consult his father, who had already gone upstairs and was -ready for bed. - -“I thought I heard voices beneath t’ window,” he remarked when Jagger -had told his story. “And what do you reckon to make out o’ t’ job?” - -“I make naught out,” he replied firmly, “but I’ll go and see what’s to -be made out on t’ spot.” - -“Then you’ve no theory?” Maniwel was drawing on his trousers as he -spoke; and instead of answering Jagger inquired what his father was -dressing for. - -“’Cause I’m going wi’ you,” he replied; “and it’s as Nancy says, there’s -no time to lose.” - -“_You_ going?” Jagger asked in amazement. “What call is there for you to -go? You don’t think I’m afraid o’ t’ chap, do you? I shall be easier i’ -my mind if you’re safe i’ bed.” - -“I’m going wi’ you,” his father repeated. “There’s things to be said ’at -it’ll save time to say on t’ road.” - -“But——” began Jagger. He was uneasy at the thought of leaving his -father below whilst he climbed the rocks. - -“There’s no ‘buts’ about it, lad. You ought to know by this time ’at -your father’s bad to shift when he’s made his mind up. You’ll maybe none -be sorry ’at t’ old man went wi’ you before t’ night’s out!” - -Jagger made no further remonstrance, and a few minutes later the two men -left the house, after instructing Hannah to keep a light in the kitchen -for another half hour and then go to bed. The door-key Maniwel put in -his pocket. - -“Then you can’t fairly reckon t’ job up?” he asked again when the last -house on the Gordel Road had been left behind. - -“Can you?” Jagger replied. - -“Well, I don’t hardly know whether I’ve got t’ right pig by t’ ear,” -said his father slowly; “but I’ve a sort of a notion. Happen there’s -naught in it, but that’s to be tried for. Did you ever climb t’ shingle -at t’ spot Nancy tells about?” - -“I can’t say ’at I ever did,” he replied. “I don’t know ’at I’ve taken -much notice of t’ place.” - -“Me and Baldwin’s been up many a time when we were lads. It isn’t easy, -but there’s ways o’ getting up ’at isn’t _that_ hard, and a chap might -light o’ one by chance and think it was a soft job, then t’ next time he -tried he might find his-self bested. If Inman’s aiming to get up it’s -’cause he’s been there before, you mark my words, and he’s desp’rate -anxious to get there again.” - -“But what can he want up t’ cliff side?” inquired Jagger; “it’s that ’at -puzzles me. A man doesn’t go bird-nesting in t’ dark.” - -“That depends, my lad, on what sort o’ eggs there may happen to be i’ t’ -nest. Suppose, now, he’s made a nest of his own i’ one o’ t’ hidey-holes -aboon t’ shingle, and wants t’ eggs in his pocket! It’s nobbut a notion -I’ve getten in my noddle, lad, but I’m going to tell you how to scram’le -up, and where to look.” - -“Something o’ t’ same sort was at t’ back o’ my mind,” said Jagger, “but -it licks me what he could want to hide up there.” - -“I’m saying naught,” returned his father, “’cause I’ve naught but a -notion to go by. I’m same as I’ve fun a lock that’s short of a key. -You’ll see what you make out, lad, but it wouldn’t cap me if you were to -find summat ’at’ll make your eyes bulge.” - -He refused to say any more, and they crossed the fields to the ravine in -silence until Jagger laid his hand on his father’s arm. - -“I could ha’ thought there was somebody i’ front of us,” he said. “Hark -you!” - -They were at the very entrance to the chasm and at the foot of the rocks -with the screes above them. Both men listened intently, but there was no -sound except the flapping of a bird’s wings high above. - -“It’s been one o’ t’ daws you heard,” said Maniwel. - -“I didn’t hear it exactly,” replied Jagger; “I sensed it.” - -“You’re nervy, lad,” said his father. “It’s as well I came wi’ you. Now -just take a bit o’ notice while I tell you which way to go.” - -His voice sounded loud and Jagger remonstrated with him in a low voice, -but Maniwel was unmoved. - -“We’er doing naught to be ashamed on, lad, and there’s no ’casion to -muffle t’ clappers. If you find aught ’at we’ve no concern wi’ you’ll -leave it where it is; and if you chance across summat ’at doesn’t belong -either to Inman or us you’ll bring it down and we’ll let t’ police have -it. Put this box o’ matches i’ your pocket. You’ll mebbe want a light -before you’ve finished, and I don’t know ’at it matters if anybody sees -you.” - -“I’m down about your being by yourself if Inman comes,” said Jagger. - -“You’ve no ’casion to fret yourself,” replied his father. “I’ll cross t’ -beck and get under t’ rock. We’re a bit ahead o’ his time, I reckon; -but, anyway, I’ve a good stick i’ my hand. Now up wi’ you, lad, and -think on o’ what I’ve tell’d you!” - -Jagger was soon at the foot of the screes, and his father crossed the -noisy stream and made his way to the densely-black shadows of the high -cliff that overhung his head. The gloom of the ravine had no terrors for -him, and he deliberately sought its darkest corner behind a projecting -limb of the rock. - -“It’ll be as snug a cubby-hole as a man need want,” he muttered, “and I -can keep an eye both on Jagger and t’ field-path.” - -Jagger was half-way up the screes by this time, and the shingle was -giving away the secret of the ascent as it clattered down into the beck. - -“He’s framing all right,” thought Maniwel, “but t’ job’s only just -begun, and he’ll happen be there when t’other fellow comes. I’ll stand -here and wait to see what turns up.” - -He moved forward, and the same moment a hand was placed over his mouth, -while a man’s low, firm voice said: - -“Keep quite still! I shall do you no harm. My name is Harker and I’m a -police officer!” - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - IN WHICH THE TABLES ARE TURNED MORE THAN ONCE - -INMAN parted company with the policeman at Tom Morton’s door; but his -business with the man was concluded in five minutes and he then took a -direction which would probably have astonished the constable, for -instead of returning to Mawm by the high road, he went down to the -river, and following its course upstream to the point where the Gordale -beck joined it, made a bee-line for the ravine. - -In doing this he had neither overlooked his expressed determination to -keep a watchful eye on the Drakes’ house, nor intentionally deceived -Stalker; but had yielded to an imperative impulse which he did not stop -to question. This was the more surprising because he was usually too -logical and also too stubborn to be moved by those sudden mental thrusts -to which many people yield so readily, and if he did so now it was -because his mind was in a condition of excited eagerness that was not -without a trace of panic. - -Despite the coolness he had maintained in his wife’s presence after he -had conquered the first almost uncontrollable impulse to render her -incapable of doing him further mischief he was at heart afraid of Nancy. -There had always been about her something he had not understood; a -suggestion of strength held in reserve—of that super-strength which we -call fortitude, and he began to fear that her resourcefulness might -match his own. His thoughts were full of her as he strode along in the -darkness, and of the relations that must exist between them in the -future when the successful issue of his present enterprise should enable -him to settle down to the only important business of life—that of -making money and piling it up. Once let him get into his stride, and -nothing should hinder him from pushing on; as for the Drakes, they might -go to the dogs or the devil, or potter along to the end of their -journey, patching up poor men’s fences and knocking together an -occasional poor man’s coffin. Henceforward they were beneath his -contempt— - -He paused there, knowing it was a lie; that though he had married Nancy -for her money and for the opportunities the alliance would bring him; -though he had himself been unfaithful to her and was unrepentant, he was -bitterly jealous of Jagger. The difficulty he had never yet surmounted -was how to hurt his enemy in a vital spot and escape injury himself; but -he never lost hope. His attempt to throw suspicion for the theft of the -money on Jagger had influenced nobody except Stalker, who was a gullible -fool. That, too, would have hit Nancy hard; would have wounded her pride -as well as her heart, but prudence suggested that it would be best -henceforth to imitate the police and let the matter drop. There would, -however, be other openings. Life was long and full of snares, into which -the wariest old bird might run. And he would be wealthy before many -years had passed, and what was there money could not accomplish? - -It was the one article in his short creed that he believed with all his -soul, yet even as it crossed his mind he knew that it would never buy -Nancy’s love; but the thought brought a smile to his face. He could very -well do without love; in that market tinsel had all the attractiveness -of pure gold, and tinsel was cheap. A smooth tongue and a kiss or two -could purchase it. - -So his thoughts raced along, but always in a circle, for they inevitably -brought him back to the point where a vague uneasiness clouded his -satisfaction, and the sense of anxiety was somehow connected with his -wife. What if she were free again?—but that was impossible. - -Once or twice he wondered if there was no possibility of patching up a -peace; but he knew in his heart that she was too straight to tolerate -his methods, and he told himself it was a pity. With a nature like hers, -if only it had not been spoiled by this unprofitable conscientiousness, -what an admirable helpmate she might have been! - -When he reached the Gordale road and climbed the stile into the pasture -he dismissed these reflections, and concentrated his thoughts on the -task that had baffled him the previous night. All was very still, but -the darkness was not dense, for the sky was bright with stars as if -frost was in the air. Suddenly, as he raised his eyes to the cliff that -was his goal, he saw a faint light that flickered for a moment and then -went out. A second or two later another appeared and was carried along -the surface of the rock until its life, too, was spent. - -Inman stood still, but his pulse raced. Someone had anticipated him. -Someone was searching the crevices which held his secret, and the result -was inevitable. The overthrow of his schemes, so utterly unexpected, -fell upon him with the force of a cataclysm, sweeping him from his feet -and producing for a moment or two real physical dizziness. - -He recovered himself quickly, and as another light glimmered on the rock -he hastened along, finding cover in the shadows of the high walls, -though he felt sure the searcher was too busily engaged to discover his -approach. By the time the next match was struck he was cowering behind a -rock at the entrance to the ravine; and there was murder in his heart -when he recognised the familiar form of Jagger Drake. - -He had dreaded it all along, though he had slighted and pushed aside the -suggestion. His wife had tracked him only too well and had betrayed him -to the enemy. In the moment of realisation he became desperate and -thought only of vengeance, yet even so his mind set itself automatically -and instantaneously to the work of counter-plotting. His fingers reached -down and grasped a stone. There were few men whose aim was better than -his; few whose right arm had more of weight and muscle in it. It was -only necessary to stay there in hiding until the other’s feet should be -on that treacherous slope of loose shingle when he would be powerless to -defend himself, and one or two shots would bring him headlong to the -foot of the cliff with a broken neck. If he should not be dead it would -be no hard task to lend nature a hand—almost as easy as to take away -the treasure-trove before any other eye should see it—and the man’s -death would lie at his own door. Men would ask why the silly fool should -have climbed the Scar at night. And it would be Nancy who had sent him -to his fate! - -These thoughts flashed across his mind; were examined and rejected in a -moment, for they were speedily followed by a second and better -suggestion. Before another minute had passed he was making his way back, -at first cautiously, then with increasing speed to the high road and the -village. - -He had been gone a half-hour before the whistling cry of a curlew was -heard from the cliff side, and the two men in hiding lifted up their -heads and listened. A moment later it was repeated, more loudly and this -time not so successfully, for there was something less of the bird and -more of the schoolboy in it—a note of triumph that is missing from the -bird’s call. - -“What is it?” the detective asked; and Maniwel replied with a similar -reproduction of the moorbird’s music. - -“He’s fun what he’s after,” he replied. “We might as well get down.” - -It was in a recess well above his head that Jagger had found the object -of his search. Behind a clump of yew that had secured root-hold in a -narrow crevice of the cliff and spread its foliage before a shallow -opening in the rock, his hand had encountered something softer than -stone or wood; something that proved to be a small leather bag. - -It was heavy—eight or nine pounds he judged—and he had a little -difficulty in transferring it to his pocket, for the toes of his boots -had not much grip upon the inch-wide ledge of rock from which he was -stretching upwards, but by and by he found himself on the turf again -with the screes immediately below. He was so eager to be down that he -sent the loose stones clattering to the river bed like a miniature -avalanche, and his father could not forbear a warning cry. - -“Steady, lad, steady! You’ll hurt yourself if you fall to t’ bottom!” - -“No fear o’ that,” replied Jagger, who was already on the edge of the -lower cliff, making ready to descend. “By gen, father, we’ve dropped on -it this time. It’s a job for t’ police, right enough—a bag-full o’ -brass.” - -He was too excited to moderate his voice, and when the old man bade him -“Whisht!” he only laughed. - -“I care for nobody,” he said. “He can come when he likes now. He’s a -deep beggar, is Inman, but, by gen, he’s let himself in for’t this time! -It’ll open Stalker’s eyes!” - -“Don’t jaw so much!” an impatient and authoritative voice broke in, “but -get down and let us see what you’ve found. Time’s precious!” - -Jagger nearly overbalanced himself in his surprise. - -“Who’ve you got with you?” he inquired suspiciously as he began the -descent. For just a moment he thought it must be Inman himself, for the -voice was half familiar, but when the detective replied, “You’ll know me -when you see me. We’ve met before,” enlightenment came. - -“It’s Mr. Harker!” he said. “This licks all!” - -The bag was secured with string and Jagger struck a match whilst the -officer untied it. But the sight of the contents was not really -necessary to confirm what was already certain—that the missing gold was -in their hands; and Mr. Harker tied it up again and pushed it along the -table of rock towards Jagger. - -“Now, listen to me,” he said. “You found the swag and you’ve got to deal -with it exactly as you would have done if we hadn’t been here. I want to -tell you what’ll happen. Stalker’ll arrest you and you’ll have to go -with him!” - -“Arrest me!” It was too dark to see the astonishment that spread over -Jagger’s face; but it revealed itself in his voice. - -“We’ve seen what you haven’t,” the detective proceeded quickly. “You -haven’t been the only star on the stage. Inman’s been and caught you at -the game; and it’s easy to guess what he hurried away for.” - -“But why should he arrest me?” pursued Jagger, who had not anticipated -any such untoward result of the enterprise. “I should hand t’ bag -straight over to Stalker!” - -“He’ll arrest you for having stolen property in your possession,” -returned the officer, “and you’ll have to go down to Keepton; but you -needn’t worry; you’ll have a front seat for the play, that’s all.” - -Something in the detective’s tone raised Jagger’s spirits and he -inquired more cheerfully: - -“Then I’m to get away by myself, am I? What about father?” - -“Your father’ll keep with me. Otherwise Stalker would arrest you both, -as it would be his duty to do. If you don’t meet him you must follow -your own course; but let me see you stirring, or the other fellows will -be here, if I’m not mistaken.” - -A grim smile was on Jagger’s face now, and he moved away briskly, -carrying the bag in his hand. - -“He’s not likely to show fight under provocation, is he?” the detective -asked Maniwel, as they followed slowly a minute or two later. “I should -imagine he might be a bit of a bruiser, and it would be a pity to give -Stalker an excuse for putting the bracelets on him.” - -“Twelve months since I wouldn’t ha’ answered for him,” the father -replied; “but he’ll keep himself in now, you’ll see. What’ll you do wi’ -Inman?” - -“Leave that to me!” was the significant answer. - - * * * * * - -Before Inman found Stalker he had so rehearsed and perfected his story -that all apprehension of evil to himself had been dismissed from his -mind, which was possessed with a fierce joy. It was worth the loss of -the money to have Jagger shut up in prison and branded as a thief; it -was a price he would willingly have pledged himself to pay at any time. -From the moment he had set foot in the village on his return from Hull -he had done his best to throw suspicion on his rival, and in all his -consultations with Stalker he had taken care to keep the suggestion -alive. The oil of flattery, applied with featherlike delicacy of touch, -had made the slow-moving constable quick to discover guilt in actions -and circumstances that could have had no relation to the crime apart -from Inman’s cunning inventiveness; and he had allowed himself to be -persuaded that time and patience would give him his prisoner. The only -cloud on his satisfaction, therefore, when Inman found him and hurried -him along the Gordale Road was that the glory of having tracked the -criminal should belong not to him but to his patron. - -“I’ll bet a hundred pounds to a penny he’s hidden the plunder there,” -Inman said, as he tried to quicken the policeman’s heavy pace. “My only -fear is that he’ll slip us, and perhaps hide it again nearer home. He -was striking a match to look for it when I came away, and you took the -deuce of a lot of finding.” - -The grumbling tone passed unnoticed by the policeman, who was thinking -to himself that it was well for him that he was accompanied by a man of -such strong determination and powerful physique, for Jagger’s fame as a -fighting man was proverbial in the hill-country, and he was not likely -to “take his sops” without a struggle. - -“Was he by himself?” he inquired. - -“Yes,” replied Inman, with a note of confidence. - -The thought that Nancy might have guided her lover there had occurred to -him on his way back, but that fear (or hope, for he hardly knew in which -light he regarded it) had been removed when he called at his home and -satisfied himself by his wife’s deep breathing that she was asleep in -her room, with the door secured. - -“A leather bag, did you say?” Stalker continued. - -“Unless he’s changed it,” Inman replied impatiently. “You’ll search him, -I suppose? It isn’t likely he’ll be wearing it in his button-hole like a -posy!” - -They had reached the stile and were about to pass over when the -policeman became aware that someone was approaching from the direction -of the Scar, and he whispered an instruction to his companion to secrete -himself on the farther side. When Jagger was descending into the road, -Stalker stepped forward and swept the light of his bull’s-eye upon him. - -“I see you’ve getten it with you, my lad!” he said. “I’ve waited a long -time; but there’s an end to t’ longest road. I suppose you’ll come along -quietly?” - -The suddenness of the encounter and the flash of the lamp startled -Jagger; and his voice was not as steady as he had meant it to be when he -replied: - -“I’ve got it, right enough, and you’d have got it if you’d waited. I was -on my way to find you; but I suppose those who hid it away picked it out -’at their game was up, and set you on my track to keep your nose off o’ -their trail.” - -“It wor very thoughtful on you,” Stalker answered with pleasant sarcasm; -“an’ as you was to ha’ left it wi’ me I may as well take it. By gen, -it’s no light weight! Happen you’ll take charge on’t, Mr. Inman, while -we get to t’ village, and leave me my two hands free?” - -Inman stepped forward and Jagger observed him for the first time. - -“So you’re there, are you?” he remarked. “I thought by this time you’d -have put five miles o’ moor between you and Mawm. _You_ know who hid t’ -bag on t’ Scar side, choose who you got to steal it.” - -“You are quite right,” he answered with no emotion of any kind. “I’ve -known all along both who stole it and who hid it; but the trouble was I -didn’t know where until I followed you. Stalker knows that I knew.” - -“That’s all right, sir,” said the constable, “and we needn’t stop here -i’ t’ lane arguing about it. We’ll be stepping forrad, and t’ least -said’ll be t’ soonest mended, for it’s my duty to warn you ’at aught you -say may be used in evidence again’ you.” - -Jagger made no reply, and walked between his two captors thinking his -own thoughts. At intervals his companions exchanged a brief sentence, -but for the most part the journey was continued in silence, so that when -the outskirts of the village had been reached the sound of footsteps in -the rear was clearly heard. - -The constable gripped Jagger’s sleeve. “If it’s a rescue you’re thinking -on,” he said, “I shall have to put cuffs o’ your wrists.” - -Jagger laughed, and his indifference surprised the constable and -disturbed Inman. - -Whoever was approaching was making good progress, and in a few moments a -firm voice rang out the question: - -“Is that you, Stalker, in front?” - -“Yes, sir,” replied the constable, who thought the sergeant must be -again in the neighbourhood, and experienced a sense of relief at this -unexpected lightening of his responsibilities. - -He halted as he spoke, and Mr. Harker and Maniwel came up. At sight of -them Inman’s face dropped. - -“I’ve arrested this man, sir,” Stalker explained, “wi’ the money ’at was -stolen from Briggs in his possession on information laid by Mr. Inman.” - -“I know,” the detective replied curtly; “and I’ve a warrant for the -arrest of James Inman on the same charge. You can leave Drake to me, -Stalker, and give your attention to the other prisoner. I’ve my car in a -shed a hundred yards away, and we’ll get down there at once and make our -way to Keepton.” - - - CHAPTER XXX - - IN WHICH SWITHIN TELLS HIS STORY - -IT was anything but a pleasant night, for a damp mist was clinging to -the sides of the hills and condensing on the grey walls of the cottages, -which looked as though some invisible hand was squeezing out a sponge -upon them, yet the bar parlour of the “Packhorse” was uncomfortably -crowded. On the other hand, that of the “Royal” was deserted, and the -landlord might as well have closed his doors and gone across the green -to the help of his competitor, whose legs and arms were kept in -perpetual motion. - -It was easy to see even at a glance who was monopolising the limelight -on this occasion, for every chair was turned so that its occupant might -catch a sight (albeit in some cases at the expense of an uncomfortable -twisting of the neck) of Swithin’s face. - -He sat in his usual seat upon the hearth, with old Ambrose in the -arm-chair on the other side, and wore the pleased and self-satisfied -expression of the man whose ship has come into port at last, and who can -proceed at his leisure to unload the cargo and reveal its treasures. - -Again and again had the tale been told, but each batch of newcomers -found it easy to draw forth a repetition, for Swithin was like a -gramophone in his readiness to oblige the company; and as he fortunately -lacked the mechanical precision of that instrument, even those who had -heard the story more than once bent forward to listen to it again, being -convinced that there would be variations in the treatment though not in -the theme. - -Never had Swithin shown himself to better advantage. The account that he -had been required to give in Court had been prepared in advance during -the long weeks that followed the hour of his enlightenment, when his -faculty of putting two and two together had enabled him to see what the -detective was “getting at,” and made him that astute officer’s confidant -and ally. If he stood on stilts during the narration it was because he -was even yet in spirit and imagination addressing the bench of -magistrates who had complimented him on his evidence. - -“‘Suck-cink and to t’ point,’ the Chairman said, when he tell’d me I -could stand down!” There could be no doubt that Swithin was immensely -proud of that high-sounding commendation. Nobody present was familiar -with the word the old man had rolled so appreciatively on his tongue, -but what of that? It was manifestly an expression that was used by the -lords of the land to the men they delighted to honour. - -“It caps all ever I ’eard tell of; and to think ’at if it ’adn’t been -for Swithin he might never ha’ been fun out!” - -“Nay, to think ’at if it hadn’t ha’ been for Swithin, Jagger’d mebbe ha’ -got five year!” - -It was not honey to Swithin, for the old man cared nothing for such -sickly sweetness, but it was beer and ’bacca in overflowing measure. - -“Nay, nay,” he said in a protesting tone that invited contradiction; -“it’s Detective-Sergeant Harker Jagger’s got to thank, not me. A fine -chap you have there, neighbours. Before ever I tipped him t’ wink, as -you may put it, he had t’ thief spotted—_nosed_ him—that’s what it is -wi’ such as Harker. T’ minute he set eyes on him and heard him bluster, -says he to his-sen, ‘That’s my man!’ and there wor nowt to go by. Then I -puts my bit in, on t’ quiet; and as sly as a couple of stoats we’ve -worked together ever sin’; for there’s them at isn’t in t’ force, -neighbours, ’at happen ought to ha’ been.” - -“It’s a gift, Swith’n; it’s a gift, lad!” wheezed Ambrose. - -“I’m not denying it, Ambrus,” replied Swithin modestly. “I says, ‘If it -wasn’t Inman’s voice ’at cursed when he ran agen t’ wall that night ’at -I wor waiting o’ Crumple to cauve you can call me a liar, says I, and -have done wi’ ’t.’ And he just opened his note-book and put down all I -tell’d him. Then when t’ snaw melted he fun t’ button, and that cooked -Inman his goose.” - -“Found what button?” inquired Job; who lived so far away that he had -been one of the last to arrive. - -“T’ button off Inman’ owercoat,” replied Swithin. “He fun it t’ same -night you met him i’ t’ Long Close and suspicioned him for t’ thief and -flayed me wi’ your talk about a gallus-button. Not ’at I’m blaming you -for being on t’ wrong scent, ’cos we aren’t all born alike, and some’s -bound to make fools o’ theirsel’s. It wor me ’at fun out for him ’at -after that ’at Inman’s coat wor short o’ that button; but I’ll tak’ -to’t, neighbours, ’at it wor Mr. Harker ’at guessed ’at he’d hid t’ -money away i’ t’ Scar.” - -This admission manifestly caused Swithin an effort; but he brightened -again as he proceeded. - -“T’ way he pieced it together caps all, and kep’ his-sen out o’ sight, -so ’at Inman and Stalker thowt he’d dropped t’ business. They’d ha’ -stared if they’d ha’ known ’at Detective Swith’n Marsdin was on t’ job!” - -He broke off to hide a chuckle in his mug, but the company was too -interested to smile. - -“Detective Marsdin by day and Detective Harker by night,” he continued. -“You should ha’ seen Inman’s face i’ t’ dock when he heard Harker -putting two and two together. He had it all as clean as a whistle fro’ -t’ time Inman slammed t’ carriage door tul. It seems t’ train he -travelled by wor pulled up by signal a few hunderd yards out o’ t’ -station, and him having a carriage to his-sen there wor nowt easier nor -for him to drop out. That wor t’ first link i’ t’ chain.” - -Swithin paused and took a refresher. - -“Number two! At three o’clock t’ next morning a man summat after his -build catches t’ Scotchman at t’ Junction, and lands i’ Airlee i’ time -to get a’ early train for Hull. That brings us to Number Three! - -“T’ ticket collector at Hull swears ’at a man wi’ a brown owercoat ’at -lacked a button passed t’ barrier at nine i’ t’ morning, and t’ same man -passed back at two i’ t’ afternoon. He reckernized him by t’ loose -threads where t’ button sud ha’ been.” - -Again Swithin paused, and allowed his eyes to travel over the company -and take toll of their appreciation. Again, too, he refreshed himself -with a drink. - -“We had t’ job weighed up by this time,” he went on; not thinking it -necessary to inform his hearers that much of this information had -reached his ears for the first time that morning; “but we hadn’t fun -where he’d hidden t’ brass, and Harker wasn’t for hurrying his-sen. When -there wor no moon he left me i’ charge, as you may say; but there worn’t -many nights i’ t’ month when he didn’t turn up his-sen; and how many -hours, neighbours, when you’ve been warm i’ your beds that man’s been -shivering i’ Gordel he could mebbe tell you better’n me. - -“T’ first time he tracked him there, wor t’ night Maniwel’s roof-tree -wor let down. Harker watched him do it, and then followed him across t’ -moor to t’ Scar. But Inman wor ower quick for him, and Harker wor flayed -o’ making a noise when he were climbing down t’ slippy rocks wi’ so much -loose stone about, so all he knew wor ’at Inman wor groaning and pitying -his-sen on t’ stones i’ t’ bottom. But by what he made out he’d slipped -down t’ cliff-side and hurt his knee-cap, and a bonny job he had to -trail his-sen home. It wor me ’at let day-light into Harker when he -tell’d me; and it wor me ’at showed him where he could hide his-sen and -spy on him. - -“He’d a bit to wait wol Inman’s knee mended, but there came a darkish -night when Inman turned up again, and a woman close on his heels. He -guessed it wor Nancy, but he didn’t follow ayther on ’em, flayed o’ one -or t’other of ’em picking him out. He always had a car and a bike i’ our -shed and kep’ t’ key in his pocket, so he could get off back before -daylight. He knew Inman ’ud be sure to try agen t’ next night, and t’ -rest you know as well as me.” - -“Well, this is a licker!” remarked Job; “but I’m one o’ them ’at’s heard -nowt, Swithin, or next to nowt. They didn’t keep Jagger, then?” - -“Keep Jagger!” The contempt in the old man’s voice was the most emphatic -of negatives. “Do you think, Job, wi’ a man like Mr. Harris i’ t’ chair -they wor likely to keep Jagger? And ’at after what Harker had to tell -’em?’ ‘We’re very much obliged to you, Mr. Drake,’ he says, smiling, -‘and hope you haven’t been put to no inconvenience,’ he says. It wor -different wi’ t’other, and there wor no smiles for him, I can tell you. -He’s got to go to t’ ’Sizes.” - -“But they tell me Maniwel’s bailin’ him out,” said Job incredulously. - -“And it’s trewth they tell you,” returned Swithin, “‘the trewth, the -’ole trewth, and nothing but the trewth,’” he added with fond -reminiscence of his police-court experiences. “And that’s where I part -comp’ny wi’ Maniwel, being what t’ Scriptur’ calls casting your pearls -before swine.” - -“Hearken tul him!” interjected Ambrus, in a thin but decidedly approving -voice. “He’s in his gifted mood to-day, is Swith’n!” - -“Two hunderd pound he has to lay down alongside two hunderd more ’at -some Airlee fella offered; to say nowt o’ t’ three hunderd Inman has to -find his-sen. Mr. Harris tell’d him to take his time and think it ower, -and Jagger’s face wor as black as a chimley; but there’s no moving -Maniwel when he sets his-sen; and Jagger stuck up for his dad as we come -home i’ t’ train. He’s a lad ’at’s going to tak’ a bit o’ sizing up, is -Jagger.” - -“It’ll be a sad job, neebours,” said Ambrose, “if so be as Maniwel loses -his bits o’ savings after all t’ labour him and Jagger’s put intul their -business, and yon Inman’s a lad ’at I’d trust as far as I could trace -him. But it’s allus been a sayin’ o’ Maniwel’s ’at when a man’s past -mending he’s past fending, and he’s for casting out devils wi’ -fair-spokken words. Eh! neebours, but it grieves me to think ’at there’s -all these gurt happenin’s i’ t’ village and my poor owd brain a-whirlin’ -round same as a lad’s peg-top. If I’d ha’ been i’ my prime I could ha’ -made a set o’ grand verses out on it all, but ivery dog has his day, and -mine’s near-hand ower. Hows’ever, I hope it’ll be Maniwel, and not yon -lad ’at’ll see me put away.” - -“If you’ve to wait, Ambrose, while Inman puts you away,” said Swithin -when the old man’s monody had ended, “you’ll have a few years to live -yet; and I should say my-sen ’at Mawm’s finished wi’ him. And good -riddance to bad rubbish, says I, though I’m sorry for Nancy, poor lass!” - -There were others who at that moment were thinking of Nancy. Maniwel and -his family were taking counsel together, and even the father’s brow was -troubled. - -“I never once gave her a thought, lad,” he said, lifting his eyes to his -son’s face. “It’s awk’ard.” - -“Awkward!” repeated Jagger. “What you’ve got to do is to say ’at you’ve -thought better of it, and let him stop where he is. It was a mad idea to -offer all t’ bit we have i’ t’ bank to bail out a scamp like him. I -thought you must ha’ lost your senses when I heard you.” - -“It seems such a shame after all t’ mischief he’s done you,” said Hannah -indignantly. “It isn’t as if it ’ud make any difference either, ’cos -there’s naught so certain as ’at he’ll get a long sentence at t’ -finish.” - -“Now, mother, it’s your turn, and then we’ll hear what Baldwin has to -say.” - -“Nay,” said Baldwin, with an emphatic movement of the head, “I’m saying -naught; it’s none o’ my business.” - -“Then come, mother!” said Maniwel, with half-humorous encouragement. - -“He comes off a black moor, Maniwel,” said the old woman. “Them of his -breed isn’t to be trusted. They’re slippy as eels, and cunning as foxes, -and their heart’s nowt but a bog. They’re t’ devil’s own childer from t’ -start...!” - -“Why, now, I think that’s as far as we need go, mother,” Maniwel -interrupted with a twinkle in his eye; “for if we went further we could -hardly fare worse. I reckon if he was t’ devil’s own bairn from t’ start -it’s time he had a step-father, and as there’s nob’dy else willing it’ll -ha’ to be me. - -“I may ha’ been a bit hasty, Jagger, i’ offering brass ’at didn’t belong -to me, but if we lose it I’ll try to make it up to you, lad; and if I -can’t you’ll none bear me a grudge. I can’t fairly put into words what’s -at t’ back o’ my mind, but yon lad’s nob’dy akin to him by what I can -make out, and this is t’ last chance there’ll be for a good while o’ -showing him a kindness. He’ll ha’ lots o’ time for reckoning things up -after a bit, and I could like him to think ’at he’d a friend ’at ’ud -give him a hand and help him to keep straight when he came out. I could -like better still, lad, to think ’at he’d a houseful o’ friends.” - -He looked hard at his son, who avoided the glance and still looked -gloomy. - -“There’s some men kindness won’t cure,” he growled. - -“That’s true,” his father replied, “but you never know who they are. -You’ve got to go on trying, same as t’ doctors, and it’s capping what -bad cases pull round sometimes, if you’ve a bit o’ patience. Now come, -lad! you wouldn’t have me go to Inman and say, ‘I’ve been thinking t’ -thing over, and we’re flayed if we bring you home you’ll nobbut get -worse, and mebbe smittle someb’dy else into t’ bargain, so we’ve decided -to leave you to t’ prison doctor?’” - -With a hasty exclamation Baldwin pushed back his chair and went out of -doors, and Hannah smiled. - -“It was getting over warm for him i’ front o’ t’ fire,” she remarked -caustically. “_He’s_ pulling round very slow.” - -“He’s none that bad,” said her grandmother, with a note of defiance in -her voice. - -“He’s none that good, neither,” returned Hannah. “It’ll take a deal o’ -father’s honey to sweeten him to my taste.” - -“Shut up, Hannah,” said her brother, who seemed relieved now that -Baldwin was not present. “He’s making himself useful i’ t’ shop, and his -temper’s improving. He’ll be going back to Keturah, let’s hope, when -Inman’s out o’ t’ road. It’s _him_ I’m bothered about. It’s all very -well experimenting on t’ devil wi’ kindness, but what about Nancy? He’ll -kill her!” - -“I’ll go see t’ lass,” said his father, “and talk it over. She’d best go -away while after t’ trial, happen.” - -“You’ve no ’casion to bother,” returned his son; “I’ve seen her myself -and she won’t budge. She’s as bad to move as you.” - -“But as I’ve getten her into t’ mess I must try to get her out,” said -Maniwel. “She’ll be blaming me, and no wonder; but I doubt if t’ lass -’ud have me go back o’ my word. I’ll step across.” - -“Please yourself,” said Jagger, “but she’s made her mind up. She’s -staying where she is, choose what happens. I said Hannah ’ud sleep wi’ -her, but she shook her head. She’s got it fixed in her mind that he’s -too fond of his skin to hurt her—‘all for my-sen doesn’t put his neck -in a noose,’ she says. And she won’t blame you, you’ll see. As like as -not she’ll thank you.” - -“Then it’ll be summat fresh,” said Maniwel, “and a change is good for -everybody. We shall find some way out between us, I’ll warrant.” - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - IN WHICH WE TAKE LEAVE OF THE MEN OF MAWM - -WHETHER it was fate or providence that led Maniwel Drake to risk his -savings in order to procure for his enemy a few weeks liberty, who shall -determine? When men are the sport of circumstances they cry, “Who can -control his fate?” When kindly breezes bring them into the haven where -they would be they talk smoothly of Providence. Theologians and -philosophers have disputed over the terms in all ages; but amidst the -clash of argument one truth stands out clearly—that a man inevitably -reaps what he sows. Within a month Maniwel had lost his money and Inman -his life. - -“It wor fated to be so,” said old Ambrose; but Jagger regarded it as an -act of Providence. - -Inman came home, to the surprise of his wife, who had not believed that -his pride would suffer him to face his neighbours; and in the language -that was current “brazzened it out.” His features were impassive, and -there was a stern repelling look in his eyes that made men chary of -seeking his company. He had no doubt formed his plans from the first, -but he masked his intentions with guile and succeeded in disarming -suspicion. With the men of Mawm it was in his favour that he paid no -lip-service to the Drakes for the kindness they had done him, and -avoided all communication with them. - -His business seemed to occupy all his thoughts; and the arrangements he -made for its continuance during the three years his lawyer told him he -might expect to be away lacked nothing in completeness. He sat for hours -with Nancy and Frank, looking into accounts and discussing possibilities -with something like subdued zest; but he never once referred to the -subject of his arrest and the circumstances that had led up to it; and -Nancy told herself that the silence was portentous. She took the -precaution to bolt her bedroom door at night and slept little. - -Several weeks before his liberty was to end he disappeared in -circumstances that made pursuit impossible—that made even his flight -doubtful. - -It was a cold April day, fitfully bright, with frequent showers of -sleet. Towards the middle of the afternoon the wind brought up great -banks of leaden cloud which discharged themselves in snow. Before -nightfall a blizzard was raging with a severity that even Mawm found -exceptional, and for eighteen hours there was no cessation of its fury. -Huge drifts, in some cases ten feet deep, made the roads impassable, and -the farmers’ faces were clouded, for scores of ewes had perished in the -storm together with their lambs, and foxes were busy in the poultry -houses. - -Inman was seen in the street before the snow came, and not until his -dead body was found a fortnight later was it known for certain that he -had planned an escape. He had pledged his word not to leave the village, -and Stalker’s successor was supposed to keep an observant eye on him; -but there had been no definition of boundaries, so that there was always -the possibility that he had been cut off by the storm and had found -shelter in some upland farm with which there was no present means of -communication. - -Maniwel cherished no such hope. “He’s gone, lad,” he said to Jagger, and -his son nodded. - -“It can’t be helped,” he replied. - -A farmer, seeking his dead sheep, found him when the thaw came, in a -shallow depression not two yards deep, into which he had stumbled as he -walked, doubtless with his head bent to the challenge of the rising -gale, across the moor. - -There he had lain, stunned and with a broken leg, less than twenty feet -from the path by which he had entered Mawm a year and a half before, and -there death had overtaken him. On his body was the evidence of his -intention—notes and gold to a large amount which he had brought from -their hiding-place, and with which, no doubt, he had hoped to start life -afresh. - -The village of Mawm has still the carpenter’s shop, and the business is -prosperous in a moderate way. Baldwin Briggs has an interest in it, but -the name upon the sign-board is “Drake and Son.” Little new machinery -has been added, for though capital was not entirely lacking the Drakes -have the conservatism of the Yorkshire countryman, and are afraid of -moving too fast. They have “made brass” but not piled it up very high; -yet there is enough and a little to spare, and Nancy Drake is satisfied. -She has two children, sturdy boys both of them, who are the pride of -their grandfather’s heart, and a husband who grows more like his father -every day. So Swithin says, and now that Ambrose, like grannie, sleeps -lower down the valley there is no greater authority in Mawm. - -Hannah and her father occupy the old home, and there is a rumour in the -village that Jack Pearce would like to share it with them, or -alternatively to take Hannah to one of his providing. - -Baldwin and Keturah, too, are in familiar quarters. Nancy was glad to -get away when Jagger married her, and he rented a good, square house -across the stream where there is a garden for the children. - -Baldwin has aged very much, and his temper is still occasionally raspy, -but if he gives trouble it is only Keturah who knows it, and she is -certainly no more fretful than before; indeed, there are those who -assert that the fountain of her tears is almost dry. - -Fate or Providence? “I was against it at t’ time,” says Jagger. “It -seemed like a fool’s trick, and it was a lot o’ brass to lose; but it -was a providence for all that.” - -Nancy says nothing. - - THE END - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Obvious misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where -more than one spelling occurs, the majority used word was applied but -archaic spellings, if used, were maintained. Author's consistent use of -“my-sen” versus Yorkshire use of “mi sen” has been maintained. - -Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained. - -The author’s use of contractions has been maintained with spaces removed -where appropriate to conform to Yorkshire dialect: “for ’t” to “for’t”, -“on ’t” to “on’t”, “in ’t” to “in’t”, “to ’t” to “to’t”, “of ’t” to -“of’t”, “t’ other” to “t’other”, “more ’n” to “more’n”, wi’ ’t to wi’t -and all “’ll” contractions have been joined including “’at ’ll” to -“’at’ll”. - -Italics are represented thus _italics_ and bold thus =bold=. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Men of Mawm, by W. Riley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN OF MAWM *** - -***** This file should be named 50369-0.txt or 50369-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/3/6/50369/ - -Produced by Andrew Sly, Cindy Beyer, Al Haines and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |