careworn from the first, but as weekspassed on he seemed to get worse. He still did his duty as well, oralmost as well, as ever, but he grew perceptibly weaker every day, andat last he could hardly drag himself along.
"I doubt if I'll last much longer," he said to himself, as he reachedthe mill one morning about three months after his first arrival atLongcross, "but father's time will be out next week. I must write tohim to-day or to-morrow and warn him what may be coming."
There was only one man at the mill who had ever been the least civilto Stephen. This was a gay, thoughtless young fellow named TimothyLingard.
He always rather prided himself on taking a different side from theother men, and in his light, careless way he had rather patronizedStephen when he saw him.
Not that they met very often, for Timothy's work was to stay in themill all night, and go round the premises at intervals in order to seethat there was no danger of fire.
Sometimes he was not gone when Stephen came in the morning; and then,as the latter waited outside for the doors to be opened, Timothy wouldenter into a conversation with him, just to show the other men that hetook a different line from theirs.
One evening--it was about a week after the discussion about Stephenbetween Archie and Mr. Munster--Timothy met the pale, careworn laddragging himself wearily home from the mill. He looked more raggedthan ever--his clothes seemed almost ready to drop off.
"Hullo!" said Timothy; "you look as if you hadn't too many pennies tochink against each other. What d'ye do with your wages? They don't goin clothes--that's clear enough."
Stephen flushed deeply, in the sudden way that people do who are in avery weak state, but he made no answer.
"I can put you in the way of earning an extra pound, if you like,"said Timothy carelessly.
"Oh, how--how?" cried Stephen with sudden animation, clutching atTimothy in his eagerness, and then holding on to him to keep himselffrom falling.
"There--don't go and faint over it," said Timothy, pushing him off;"and don't throttle a man either for doing you a good turn. That ain'tno encouragement. What I mean is, that I've a rather partic'larengagement to-morrow night, and for several nights to come--in fact,till next Friday--and I want to get some one to take my place at themill."
"But will Mr. Munster let any one else come?"
"I ain't a-going to ask him. It don't matter to _him_ who's there, solong as there _is_ some one to look after the premises. I'm going toput in my own man; and you can have the job if you like, and taketwo-thirds o' my pay--that's twenty shillings. I shall be back bythree or four o'clock in the morning, so as to give you time for a napbefore your own work begins. But if you ain't feeling up to the doublework, just say so. Now I look at you, I have my doubts, and it won'tdo for you to go falling off asleep, or fainting, mind. What d'you sayto it?"
"I could do it--I'm sure I could. I wouldn't go to sleep--I promiseyou I wouldn't. The only thing is, I should like--I think--if you sayit won't matter--yes, I really should like--"
"Have it out, and have done with it, and don't stand spluttering therelike a water-pipe gone wrong. Will you do it, or not?"
"Yes," said Stephen, in a low voice.
"Then mind, you ain't to say a word about it to any one--not asthere's any harm in it, but I don't want the foreman to hear of itsideways. I shall come here as usual at six o'clock, and if you'llcome up about seven--it's pretty near dark by then--I'll let you in,and be off myself."
"All right. But--but, Tim, I--I was going to ask--"
"Well? Do get on--what an ass you are! What do you want?" interruptedthe other impatiently.
"'Twas about the money. Could you--I mean, would you mind paying mefirst? I'll do the work--I will, indeed."
"It'll be the worse for you if you don't," said Timothy. "But as forpaying first, I don't know as I've got the money. What d'you want itfor?"
"I can't tell you--at least, I mean, for food and clothes," answeredStephen, looking extremely distressed and embarrassed. "But nevermind, Tim; if you can't do it, I'll wait."
"No; you can have it. I daresay I'll be making more to-night," saidthe reckless Timothy, and he got out two half-sovereigns and gave themto Stephen.
"Now, remember," he said, "if you say I ain't paid you, or if youdon't do the work properly, and anything happens while I'm away, I'llbreak every bone in your body."
No one could look at the two and doubt Timothy's power to wreak hisanger on the slim, weakly-looking youth, some ten years younger thanhimself.
"All right; I'll take care," answered Stephen, who never wasted words;and they separated.
The following evening Stephen arrived, as arranged, in the twilight,at the big mill, and was admitted by Timothy at a little side-door.
"Mind," said the latter, "you ain't supposed to go to sleep. You goesyour rounds four times. There's the rules." He pointed to a card onthe wall, and added--"I take forty winks myself every now and then,but _I_ can wake up if a fly jumps on the table. Now, I'm off. I'll beback in lots o' time."
He departed, whistling as he went, and not feeling the least ashamedof betraying the trust reposed in him, by thus entrusting the safetyof the whole mill to a comparative stranger. Timothy was not in thehabit of asking whether things were _right_ before he did them, butonly whether they were pleasant or convenient.
He did not notice Archie Fairfax, who was standing at the office-dooras he walked quickly by, just under a newly-lighted lamp.
There was some one else watching too, from under the shadow of aprojecting buttress, whom neither Archie nor Timothy perceived. It wasSimon Bond--Stephen's bitterest enemy.
Ever since the day when the lad had refused to answer his rudequestions, Simon had been on the look-out for his revenge. Twice hehad waylaid Stephen, and tried to give him the thrashing he hadpromised him.
But once Stephen had eluded him by going through a big shop which hadan opening on the other side; once some one had come up just as Simonhad got his foe into a quiet corner.
It was of no use for him to track Stephen to his home, for he knew howcrowded it was in those narrow streets; and though a "row" wouldprobably be a matter of daily occurrence, there was every likelihoodthat the men who looked on might take the side of their own neighbouragainst a stranger like Simon.
"But my time'll come yet," he said to himself, "if I wait longenough."
He contented himself, while waiting for the longed-for day ofvengeance, with adding what he could to Stephen's load of trouble.
His work was in the same big room, and he took care that Stephenshould have the draughtiest corner of it, and be the last to get intothe office on pay-day. And he managed that if anything did go wrong,suspicion should fall on Stephen--in which Archie was his unconscioushelper. Then, if Stephen ventured to speak while waiting outside foradmittance in the morning--which he did very seldom--Simon wouldrepeat his words in a loud, mocking voice, and comment upon them, andturn them into ridicule, till poor Stephen dreaded the sight of himmore than of all the other men put together.
"What's up now, I wonder," thought Simon, as he watched Timothy comeout and Stephen go in at the little door of the manufactory. "Why,there's Tim Lingard going off right away. Is he gone for the night? Ishould like to know. If he is, now's my time. I don't suppose thelittle chap will lock the door, so I'll just slip in while he's goinghis rounds, and be ready for him when he comes back--that'll all be aseasy as sneezing. I'll make it pretty hot, though, for Master Stephenwhen I've got him."
He went home to his tea; and Stephen, all unconscious of the plotsbeing laid against him, entered the little room where the night-watchsat, and got out his meagre supper, which he had had no time yet toswallow. The room had two doors; one led to the courtyard throughwhich Stephen had entered, and the other, the upper half of which wasglass, took into Mr. Fairfax's private office and the largercounting-house beyond, out of which the passages leading to thegeneral workrooms opened.
"I hope the little 'uns 'ull get on all safe for a few nights withoutme," he said to hi
mself, as he ate his slice of bread. "Polly's sosensible, she'll do all right, if those rackety boys 'ull do as shetells 'em. They promised me they would, but there's no tellin'."
He sat thinking for some time, and then started off on his first roundof inspection.
Meanwhile Archie Fairfax had gone home to dinner, his mind full ofthe proofs he thought he had acquired of Stephen Bennett'suntrustworthiness. He said nothing about it, however, until he andhis father were
Archie's Mistake Page 2
