The Parson O' Dumford

Here Richard paused for a few moments, but could hear nothing but the beating of their own hearts, for now he, too, was horribly alarmed.

“It’s nothing,” he said at last. “Daisy, you’ve been inventing this to make me let you go.”

Daisy made no reply, for the horror of some impending evil seemed to be upon her, and with her lips parched, and tongue dry, she could not even utter a word; but clung to him, and tried to urge him away.

“Come along, then, into the counting-house,” he said, infected now by the girl’s manifest fears. “Mind how you come; the steps are worn. Take care.”

But for his arm Daisy would probably have fallen, but he aided her, and she reached the floor in safety.

“Stop a moment, silly child,” he said, “and I’ll light a match, just to look round and show you that you are frightened at nothing.”

“No, no,” gasped Daisy. “Quick, quick, the door.”

“Well, then, little one, just to prevent our breaking our necks over this cursed machinery.”

“No, no,” moaned Daisy. “I know the way. Here, quick.”

But Richard was already striking the wax match he had taken from a box, and then as the light blazed up he uttered a cry of horror, and let it fall, while Daisy, who took in at a glance the horror of their situation, sank beside the burning match, which blazed for a few moments on the beaten earth, and then went out, leaving them in a darkness greater than before.

Volume Three – Chapter Twelve.

A Late Recognition

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.