Banks, like an angry lion. “D’yer call it nowt to steal into a man’s place, and coot and carry off every band in t’ whole works?”
“Have they – have they done that, Banks?” cried Richard.
“Have they?” roared the foreman; “ask the sneaking cowards.”
“No, no, we hain’t,” cried the leader, bringing his hand down on the table with a thump. “It’s a loi, ain’t it, lads – a loi?”
“Yes,” was chorused; “we ain’t done nowt o’ t’ sort.”
“Then who did it?” cried Banks; and there was a silence.
“Look here,” cried Richard, who had been brought very unwillingly to this concession by Mrs Glaire, and gladly hailed an excuse for evading it. “Look here, Banks, are all those wheel-bands destroyed?”
“Ivery one of ’em,” said Banks.
“Then I’ll make no agreement,” cried Richard, in a rage. “You may strike, and I’ll strike. It’s my turn now – be quiet, mother, I’m master here,” he cried, as Mrs Glaire tried to check him. “I won’t have my property destroyed, and then find work for a pack of lazy, treacherous scoundrels. There’s a hundred pounds’ worth of my property taken away. Make it up, and put it back, and then perhaps I’ll talk to you.”
“But I tell you, Mester, it’s none o’ us,” cried the leader.
“None of you!” sneered Richard. “Why, the bands are gone, and I’m to give way, and pay better, and feed you and yours, and be trampled upon. Be off, all of you; go and strike, and starve, till you come humbly on your knees and beg for work.”
“Had you not better try and find out the offender, Mr Glaire?” interposed the vicar, who saw the men’s lowering looks. “Don’t punish the innocent with the guilty.”
“Well spoke, parson,” cried a voice.
“You mind your own business, sir,” shouted Richard. “I know how to deal with my own workmen. You struck for wages, and you assaulted me. I’ll strike now, you cowards, for I’ll lock you out. The furnaces are cold; let them stop cold, for I’ll lose thousands before I’ll give in. I’ll make an example of you all.”
“You’ll repent this, Mester Richard Glaire,” shouted Slee.
“I’ll repent when I see you in gaol, you mouthing demagogue!” cried Richard. “Now, get off my premises, all of you, for I’ll hold no more intercourse with any of the lot.”
“But I tell you, Mester,” said the leader, a short, honest-looking fellow, “it’s – ”
“Be off, I tell you!” shouted Richard. “Where are my bands?”
The man wiped his forehead, and looked at his companions, who one and all looked from one to another, and then, as if feeling that there was a guilty man amongst them – one who had, as it were, cut the ground from beneath their feet – they slowly backed out, increasing their pace though, towards the last, as if each one was afraid of being left.
“Go after them, Banks, and see them off the premises,” said Richard, with a triumphant look in his eye. “Let’s see who’ll be master now.”
The foreman went after the deputation, and there was a low murmuring in the yard, but the men all went off quietly, and the great gates were heard to clang to.
“Oh, Richard, my boy,” said Mrs Glaire, “I’m afraid you’ve made matters worse.”
“I’ll see about that,” said Richard, rubbing his hands, and giving a look askant at the vicar, who stood perfectly silent. “They’ll be down on their knees before the week’s out, as soon as the cupboard begins to be nipped. Are they all gone, Banks?”
“Yes, they’re all gone,” said the foreman, returning. “I wouldn’t ha’ thowt it on ’em.”
“Stop!” cried Richard, as a sudden idea seemed to strike him. “What time did you go away, Joe?”
“’Bout nine.”
“And all was right then?”
“That I’ll sweer,” said the foreman; “I went all over the works. It must ha’ been done by some cowardly sneak as had hid in the place.”
“I know who it was,” said Richard, with his eyes sparkling with malicious glee.
“Know who it was?” said Banks. “Tell me, Maister Richard, and I’ll ’bout break his neck.”
“It was that scoundrel Tom Podmore.”
“Who? Tom Podmore! Yah!” said the foreman, in a tone of disgust; and then with a chuckle. “I dessay he’d like to gi’e you one, Maister Dick; but go and steal the bands! It ain’t in him.”
“But I tell you I saw him!” cried Richard.
“Saw him? When?”
“Hanging about the works here last night between nine and ten.”
“You did!” cried the foreman, eagerly.
“That I did, myself,” said Richard, while the vicar scanned his eager face so curiously that the young man winced.
Joe Banks stood thinking with knitted brow for a few moments, and then, just as Mrs Glaire was going to interpose, he held up his hand.
“Wait a moment, Missus,” he said. “Look here, Maister Richard, you said you saw Tom Podmore hanging about the works last night?”
“I did.”
“There’s nobbut one place wheer a chap could ha’ been likely to ha’ gotten in,” said Banks, thoughtfully. “Wheer might you ha’ sin him?”
“In the lane by the side.”
“That’s the place,” said the foreman, in a disappointed tone. “That theer window. Was he by hissen?”
“Yes, he was quite alone,” said Richard, flinching under this cross-examination.
“And what was you a-doing theer, Maister Richard, at that time?” said the foreman, curiously.
“I – I – ” faltered Richard, thoroughly taken aback by the sudden question; “I was walking down to go into the counting-house, with a sort of idea that I should like to see if the works were all right.”
“Ho!” said the foreman, shortly; and just then the eyes of the young men met, and it seemed to Richard that there was written in those of the vicar the one word, “Liar!”
“Did you speak, sir?” said Richard, blanching, and then speaking hotly.
“No, Mr Glaire, I did not speak, but I will, for I should like to say that from what I have seen of that young man Podmore, I do not think he is one who would be guilty of such a dastardly action.”
“How can you know?” said Richard, flushing up. “You only came to the town yesterday.”
“True,”
