It was of no use for him to track Stephen to his home, for he knew how crowded it was in those narrow streets; and though a "row" would probably be a matter of daily occurrence, there was every likelihood that the men who looked on might take the side of their own neighbour against a stranger like Simon. "But my time'll come yet," he said to himself, "if I wait long enough." He contented himself, while waiting for the longed-for day of vengeance, with adding what he could to Stephen's load of trouble. His work was in the same big room, and he took care that Stephen should have the draughtiest corner of it, and be the last to get into the office on pay-day. And he managed that if anything did go wrong, suspicion should fall on Stephen--in which Archie was his unconscious helper. Then, if Stephen ventured to speak while waiting outside for admittance in the morning--which he did very seldom--Simon would repeat his words in a loud, mocking voice, and comment upon them, and turn them into ridicule, till poor Stephen dreaded the sight of him more than of all the other men put together. "What's up now, I wonder," thought Simon, as he watched Timothy come out 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? I should like to know. If he is, now's my time. I don't suppose the little chap will lock the door, so I'll just slip in while he's going his rounds, and be ready for him when he comes back--that'll all be as easy as sneezing. I'll make it pretty hot, though, for Master Stephen when I've got him." He went home to his tea; and Stephen, all unconscious of the plots being laid against him, entered the little room where the night-watch sat, and got out his meagre supper, which he had had no time yet to swallow. The room had two doors; one led to the courtyard through which Stephen had entered, and the other, the upper half of which was glass, took into Mr. Fairfax's private office and the larger counting-house beyond, out of which the passages leading to the general workrooms opened. "I hope the little 'uns 'ull get on all safe for a few nights without me," he said to himself, as he ate his slice of bread. "Polly's so sensible, she'll do all right, if those rackety boys 'ull do as she tells 'em. They promised me they would, but there's no tellin'." He sat thinking for some time, and then started off on his first round of inspection. Meanwhile Archie Fairfax had gone home to dinner, his mind full of the proofs he thought he had acquired of Stephen Bennett's untrustworthiness. He said nothing about it, however, until he and his father were left alone after dinner. "Who's the caretaker at night now, father?" he asked, as he peeled an apple. "Timothy Lingard," was the answer. "Why do you want to know?" "Oh, only because he isn't there to-night; so I thought he might have been dismissed." "Not there to-night! What do you mean, Archie?"