"Two can play at that game," said Richard to himself, as he walked
sharply down the hill and back into the town, where, not heeding Eve,
who was in the dining-room, he hastily wrote a short letter, and then
putting on his hat, went out again, smoking a cigar, apparently to have
a stroll, and sauntered down towards the Bull and Cucumber, where he
gave a long, low whistle, uttered twice, and then walked on for some
distance.
His signal had the required effect, for Sim Slee came after him with a
soft pace like a cat, and together the two men went on in the darkness,
Richard talking earnestly to his companion, and passing money to him,
whose chink was very audible.
"Now you quite understand?" said Richard, earnestly.
"Understand? He, he, he!" chuckled Sim. "I've got it quite by heart.
I say, won't Joe Banks be popped?"
"Hold your tongue, and keep names quiet. Now you quite understand. I
shall not show my face in the matter at all."
"Oh, no, of course not," said Sim. "All right, Mr Glaire, sir. You
couldn't have a troostier man than me."
"I don't know," said Richard; "perhaps I oughtn't to have given you the
money till after."
"Oh, you may troost me, Mr Richard, I'm square, sir, and honourable.
It'll all be done lovely."
"Then I shall not see you again," said Richard; and they parted.
"Ho, ho, ho!" chuckled Sim, slapping his legs. "Here's a game. Some on
'em 'll be chattering all over the place 'bout this, and, ho, my!"
He had another long enjoyable laugh, to start up half frightened, for a
dark figure approached him so suddenly, that it was close upon him
before he was aware of the fact.
"What are you laughing at?" said the newcomer, sharply. "What devil's
game hev yow and that Dick Glaire been hatching?"
"Hatching? Devil's game, Tom Podmore? why, can't a man laugh in the
lane if he likes? But there, I'm off up to the mill, for it'll reean
to-night, mun."
Tom Podmore strode off after Richard Glaire, muttering angrily, and on
getting close to the town, it was to see the young man walking right in
the middle of the road, to avoid the men standing about on the
pebble-paved sidewalks.
It was well he did so, for there were plenty of hands ready to be raised
against him, and had one struck at him, it would have been the signal
for a rain of blows: for scores of men in the place were now vowing
vengeance against the man whom they accused of starving their wives and
bairns. In fact, it had so far been Richard Glaire's insolent temerity
that had saved him from assault. He had gone boldly about, urged
thereto by his eagerness to meet little Daisy Banks, but for which
engagements he would probably have stayed indoors, and run greater risks
on the few occasions when he showed himself.
As it was, he hastened his steps this night, on seeing the dark groups
about, and when Tom Podmore closed up, he almost ran the last few steps,
dashed open the door, and, closing it, stood panting in the hall.
It was about half-past ten now, and he listened, with his hand upon the
bolt, to the muttering voices without for a few minutes, till one of the
maids came in to gaze at him curiously.
"Here, fasten up this door," he said harshly.
"Fasten the door, sir?" said the girl.
"Yes, fasten the door, stupid," he cried, angrily.
"But missus hasn't come in yet," said the girl.
"Not come in?" said Richard, starting as he recalled where he had left
her; and then, with a hasty pish! "I daresay she's at Purley's. I'll
fasten the door. Don't sit up."
The girl was leaving the hall, when he called after her:
"Where's Miss Eve?"
"Gone to bed, sir, with a sick headache."
"She's always got a sick headache," growled Richard.
"I wish you had 'em your sen," muttered the girl.
"There, bring some hot water and a tumbler into the dining-room," said
Richard, as the girl was turning to go.
He went into the dining-room, got out the spirit-stand, and, on the hot
water being brought, mixed himself a stiff glass of brandy and water,
and drank it rapidly, listening occasionally to the footsteps and loud
talking without.
A second glass followed shortly after, and then, tired out with the
day's work, the young man threw himself on the sofa. The sounds outside
by degrees grew indistinct and distant, and then, with a pale,
ghost-like Eve following him always, he was journeying through foreign
lands with Daisy, who looked lovingly up in his face. Then, Tom Podmore
seemed to be pursuing him and threatening his life. Next it was the
vicar; and then, at last, after struggling hard to get away, Joe Banks
stood over him with a flashing light, and as he waited to hear him say,
"Where is my child?"--waited with a feeling of suspense that seemed
prolonged for years, the voice said coldly and sternly:
"Why are you not in bed?"
He started into wakefulness to see that it was his mother standing over
him with a chamber candlestick, looking very cold and white.
"How could I go to bed when you were not back?" he said sulkily.
"You can go to bed now," she said, quietly.
"Where have you been?"
She made no answer.
"Were there many of those scoundrels about?" he asked.
"The men would not injure me," she said, in the same low voice.
"But how did you get in?"
"Eve came down and admitted me," was the reply.
"What's o'clock?"
Mrs Glaire made no answer.
"Oh, if you like to be sulky you can," said Richard, coolly; and,
lighting a chamber candle, he strode off to bed.
As he turned to wind up his watch in a sleepy manner, he found that it
had run down, so with an impatient gesture he laid it aside, finished
undressing, and tumbled into bed.
"Some of them will open their eyes to-morrow," he muttered, with a
half-laugh. "Well, it was time to act. I'm not going to be under
petticoat government all my life."
At the same time Mrs Glaire was seated pale and shivering in the
dining-room, while all else in the house were sleeping soundly, and the
street was now painfully still, for the murmuring workers of the foundry
had long since sought their homes, more than one sending up a curse on
Richard Glaire, instead of a prayer for his well-being and peace.
Volume 2, Chapter VIII.