As Richard Glaire followed Daisy Banks and reached the works, he made
for the great gates, took a rapid glance up and down the dark street to
see that it was quite forsaken, and then slipped a latch-key in the
wicket, which yielded quietly, and he passed in.
"Will she be here?" he said; and then it struck him suddenly that it was
impossible: the works had been closely shut up.
"But she came here--to find me. Perhaps she has Joe Banks's key," he
exclaimed. "At all events I'll have a look."
He crossed the yard, entered the great pile of buildings, and listened;
then returning, he went to the counting-house, and through the passage
to the dark opening into the alley, to find it on the latch.
"She is here," he exclaimed, joyously; and, leaving it as it was, he
proceeded to the great building, and then began to peer about in the
darkness and listen, ending by seeking the first ladder leading to the
half-floor.
"She's playing with me," he said, half laughing. "She's a plucky little
thing, though, to come here by herself;" and then he ascended, and
stopped at one of the windows looking towards the town to listen, but
all seemed still.
He had hardly placed his foot on the second flight of stairs, and begun
to ascend, when the light of a bull's-eye lantern was flashed all over
the foundry.
"Dark as Jonah's sea-parlour, my lad," said a voice. "Come along, all
of you," and several men, who had entered by the counting-house door,
and then gone back to fetch something, came silently into the great
gloomy place.
They were evidently in their stocking feet, and moved about without a
sound, two of them being dimly seen by the lantern light to be carrying
small kegs.
"Be keerful wi' that lantern, Barker," said the first speaker, who had
evidently been drinking.
"Yes, I'm careful enough," said the man; "but these nails and bits of
metal are dreadful to the feet."
"He, he, he!" laughed Slee, "we shall clear all them away soon. I'm
glad I comed. I'm not the man to stay away when theer's a job o' this
sort on. Look alive, Stocktle."
"I'm looking alive enew," said one of the men with the kegs; "but it
seems a burning shame to spoil the owd place wheer we've made so many
honest shillings."
"None o' your snivelling, Joe Stocktle," exclaimed Sim Slee. "Don't you
come powering your warm watter on the powther. Is the place a-bringing
you money now, or starving your missus and the bairns?"
"That's a true word," said the man, sulkily; and he placed his keg on
the earth, beside one of the thick furnace walls, as Joe Banks, without
another word, placed his there too, right in the centre of the building,
where the great wall went up as a support to the various floors, close
to the huge chimney-shaft, which was continued up a couple of hundred
feet above the building.
"It'll send the owd shaft down too," said Sim; "and if we're lucky, the
place 'll catch fire and blaze like owt."
"Pray be quick, my lads; and we'd better go now," whispered Barker.
"Hush! wasn't that a noise?"
"On'y an owd tom cat," said Slee. "He lives here, and scarred me finely
when I came for the bands. Yow can do wi'out us, now, Joe Banks?"
"Wait a moment," said the foreman, slowly. "Get me a crowbar off yon
bench."
Slee fetched the tool, taking the light with him, and casting weird
shadows about the vast foundry, as he carried the lantern, and made its
light flicker about. Then returning, he stood looking on, and holding
the light, his hand trembling as he lighted Joe Banks, while he and the
man called Stocktle loosed the top hoops, and wrenched out the heads of
the kegs with a recklessness that made Barker's blood run cold, and he,
too, shivered so that his teeth chattered.
"Seems a shame to blow up t'owd shop," said Stocktle, again. "Must do
it, I s'pose."
"Of course you must, you maulkin," whispered Slee. "Theer's all the
lads hinging about the market-place to see 'em go up. Now, Joe Banks,
tak' this lantern. You knows what to do. Here's the fuse. Shove it in
your pocket. Wait till we've gone, then upset both kegs, and then make
a good long train right to the door, wheer you'll put your fuse into
ground, with a handful o' powther at the end. Open the lantern, and
howd fuse to it a moment, shoot lantern up, and if fuse is well leeted,
coot off as hard as you can. Here's the pot. Half fill un, so as to
lay a long train."
Joe Banks took the small watering-can handed to him, and proceeded to
half fill it from one of the kegs, trying it afterwards, to see if the
black grains poured freely from the spout; and finding they did, he set
it down. "Pray come along," whispered Barker. "I'm wi' you," said
Slee; and he followed Barker hastily, the two men making for the
counting-house door.
"Tak' care o' yoursen, Joe Banks," said the man left behind. "Shall I
stop and help you? Them two's coot awaya."
"No; go after them," said the foreman, speaking almost for the first
time.
"Raight," said Stocktle, "On'y look out for yoursen, owd Guy Fox, and
don't get blowed up too. Are you all raight?"
"Yes," was the reply; and the man glided silently amongst the furnaces
into the darkness, leaving the stern grey-headed man to his dark task.
He was quick over it, tilting and half emptying the kegs against the
wall; and then, with the pot in one hand, the lantern in the other, he
made a path of light along the floor, in which he trickled down a black
zigzag pattern for many yards, till the pot was nearly empty, when he
poured all the rest in a patch, took out the long black fuse, laid one
end in the powder, and drew out the other, ready to thrust in the
lantern.
"It's a mean, cowardly trick," muttered Banks, darkening the lantern as
he put down the pot and stood erect. "What would my owd brother workman
say if he could see me now? Ay, and what would he say to his
black-hearted son for robbing me of all I howd dear? It's a judgment on
him, and he deserves it. Ay, but it's not like me to do such a thing;
but I've said I'd do it, and I will. Who's yon? Curse him; I wish it
were Dick Glaire, and I'd fire the train at once if I died wi' him."
The foreman stood ready, as he heard whispers and descending steps, and
ground his teeth together, as he made out that there was a woman's voice
as well as a man's.
"It must be Richard Glaire," he muttered, "and who will it be wi' him?"
He stood listening again, feeling in his mad excitement neither fear of
detection nor death, for his sole desire was to obtain one great
sweeping revenge on the man whom he now hated with a deadly hate; and as
he listened the thought grew more strongly that this must be Richard
holding a meeting with Eve Pelly.
"It can be no one else," he muttered, pressing his hands to his fevered
head, and then stooping to feel the fuse and powder. "I don't want to
hurt her, poor lass, but she's an enemy now, like her scoundrel o' a
cousin. A villain! a villain! He's forsaken my poor bairn, then, to
come back here and mak' love to she. If I shrunk from it before, I feel
strong now. But I'll be sure first, for, mad as I am again him, I
wouldn't send an innocent man to his account. But it must be him, it
must be him, sent by his fate to die in the midst of his place."
Joe Banks stood trying to think, but he was in so excited and fevered a
state that the effort was vain. He could see nothing but ruin and
death. He had promised to fire the train, and he was ready to do it,
for passion had long usurped reason, and should he die in the ruins, he
cared but little.
Meantime, as he stood intently listening, and with his hand upon the
catch of his lantern, ready to apply it to the fuse at any moment, the
whisperings continued, ceased within a few yards of where he stood; and
then came the sound of a box being opened. There was a sharp, crackling
scratch, and a tiny white flame flashed out in the midst of the
darkness.
It lasted but a few moments, for Richard uttered a cry of dread, and let
it fall, but in those moments Joe Banks had seen who struck the match,
and that a female companion had sunk fainting to the earth, and the hot
rage, that had almost turned his brain, grew ten times hotter.
"You madman!" cried Richard, who had divined what was to take place; and
in his dread he became for the time brave, and sought to grasp the man
who was charged with the deadly design. "You madman!" he cried. "What
are you about to do? Here, help!"
He sought to grasp the foreman, and had not long to wait, for, choking
with rage, the injured man stepped forward to seize him in turn, and
they closed in a furious struggle, which resulted in the younger man
seeming like a child in the mighty arms of his adversary, who lifted him
from the ground, dashed him down, and then, panting with exertion and
rage, planted a foot upon his chest and held him there close by the end
of the train, while he felt round for the dark lantern he had dropped.
"Banks, Joe Banks, are you mad?" cried Richard, who was half stifled by
the pressure upon his breast.
"Yes," said the foreman, grimly; "mad."
"What are you going to do?" panted Richard, struggling to remove the
foot.
"To do, liar, coward, villain! was it not enew that you had all you
could want, but you must come and rob me o' my poor bairn?"
"Joe--Joe Banks!" panted Richard, in protestation; but his words were
stifled, for the maddened man pressed his foot down more firmly on his
chest.
"Silence, you villain!" cried Banks, in a low fierce whisper, "or I'll
crash in your chest or break your skull with a piece of iron. Are you
going to marry that Eve Pelly?"
"Yes, Joe, yes; but--"
"Silence!" hissed the foreman, "unless you want to say your prayers.
Speak a word aloud, and I'll kill you dead. Now, you want to know why
I'm here? I'll tell you. The poor lads thrown out o' work by your
cruel ways said they'd blow up the works, for you had injured them so
that they would have revenge; and then I said I had greater wrong to
bear, and I would do it. Do you want to know more?" he continued, with
a savage chuckle. "There lies the powther all of a heap, two barrels
full, and here's the train down by your feet. It's aw ready, and there
would have been no works by this time if you had not come with she."
"Joe, listen," panted Richard, struggling ineffectually against the
pressure.
"Silence!" hissed Banks; and his foot was pressed so savagely down that
Richard Glaire thought his end had come, and lay half swooning, with
dazzling lights dancing before his eyes, the sound of bells ringing in
his ears, and a horrible dread upon him that if he spoke again the words
would be his last. And all this time, like a low hissing sentence of
death, went on the words of the foreman, as he bent over him.
"I tell thee I hev but to put the light to the train, and you--. Yes,
we shall be blown into eternity unless I run fro' the place."
"Your child--Daisy!" panted Richard, in his horror.
"I hev no bairn," cried Banks, who then uttered an ejaculation
indicative of satisfaction, for he had been feeling about, and reached
the lantern.
"Banks, Joe Banks, for mercy's sake," groaned Richard, hoarsely, "I'm
not fit to die."
"Nay, thou'rt not, and thou'lt be worse if I let thee live, and if thou
survives that poor lass will lead a living death."
"Joe--mercy!" cried Richard, as the pressure on his breast increased.
"Ask it fro' up yonder," said the foreman solemnly. "I'll gi'e you two
minutes to pray while the fuse burns. It'll last two minutes; see,
lad."
"Joe, Joe," panted his victim, feebly struggling as against some
horrible nightmare, while with starting eye-balls he glared up at the
weird, distorted face of his foreman, upon which the light shone
strangely as he opened the lantern door, held it to the fuse for a
moment, closed it, and hurled it to the other side of the foundry, while
the slow match began to burn gradually towards the powder.
"He's mad, he's mad!" moaned Richard, gazing hard with a feeling of
horrible fascination at the burning fuse, whose faint sparkling light
made the face of Banks look to him like that of some demon. "Joe, for
my father's sake!"
"Not for his. Yo' canno' be your father's bairn."
"Joe, for Daisy's sake," panted Richard, again. "Mercy, mercy! it has
nearly burned out."
"Pray, fool, pray," hissed Banks. "It may save you from the curse I
give you for blasting my home. I wean't run. Let it go, for thou'rt
sent here to-night to die. It's God's vengeance on you for what you've
done. See the powther catches."
"It's devil's work, not God's!" shrieked Richard, as, grasping the foot
that pressed him down, he made a final effort for life, just as the
train caught fire, flashed up, and began to run in a serpentine course
towards the barrels.
Another moment and it would have been too late. As it was, Joe Banks
took a couple of strides, and swept the powder aside in the middle of
the train, so that when the lurid serpent that seemed running its wavy
course along the floor, lighting up the works with a strange glow,
reached its maker's foot, it fluttered, sparkled here and there to right
and left, and then all was darkness.
"You're raight," said Banks, solemnly, from out of the darkness, while,
half blinded by the glare, Richard feebly struggled to his knees, and
crouched there, bathed in a chilly sweat. "You're raight; it is devil's
work, and I canno' do it. Richard Glaire, I believe I'm mad; and when I
found you here, wi' her as lies theer moaning, I said we'd all die
together."
"This is horrible, horrible!" moaned Richard.
"Mebbe it is," said Banks, sadly; "but for you, lad, the bitterness o'
death is past. It's devil's work, indeed, and it shall not be mine.
Get up, and tak' yon poor lass away, lest the fit comes ower me again,
and I forget as I'm a man."
Richard groaned, for he was weak and helpless as a babe.
"I give you your life before," continued Banks, moving to where a dim
light showed where the lantern lay, and returning with it open, so that
its glow shone upon Richard Glaire's white face. "I give it to you
again, man. Go, and God forgive you what you've done to me."
Richard made an effort to rise, and stood tottering on his feet,
speechless with the reaction from the horror through which he had
passed, while Banks crossed to where Daisy was beginning to recover from
her swoon.
"Poor bairn!" he said softly; "and I should ha' slain thee too. Get up,
Miss Eve, and some day you may pray for and forgive me."
He turned the light full upon her as she rose to her knees, then covered
her eyes, for the light dazzled her.
"Where am I?" she cried; then, as recollection flashed back, she started
up with a cry of "Father--father!"
Joe Banks stood motionless for a few moments, staring wildly at what
seemed to him like some horrible vision; and it was not until Daisy rose
to her feet that he fully realised what he had so nearly achieved; then
the lantern dropped from his hand; he clasped his temples with his
sinewy hands, and uttered a hoarse cry that echoed through the gloomy
place--
"My God!"
As the words left his lips he turned slightly, and fell heavily upon the
ground, just as there were shouts, the rush of feet; and, bearing
lights, a couple of policemen, Tom, Harry, and about a dozen of the
tradespeople, headed by the vicar, rushed into the place.
Volume 3, Chapter XIII.