"You knew how to do it, and you did it--gentleman way. You knew me and you knew I was hard hit and you knew I'd make a big throw. That was between us two, though we never said a word. I'd never give up a thing in my life before and I was mad for her. She knew how to hold me off and gave me plenty to think of. What else had you, my lad? 'Haworth's' didn't want a gentleman; 'Haworth's' didn't want brass, and you'd none to give if it did. It wasn't _you_ who was took in partner; it was what Jem Haworth was aiming at--and has missed, by----" He got up, and, pushing his chair back, made a stride toward the door. Ffrench was sure he was going away without another word, but he suddenly stopped and turned back. "I'd sooner take hell than what's comin'," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. "And it's you that's brought it on me; but if I'd got what I aimed at, it might have come and welcome." Then he went out. He went across to the Works, and, going into his room, he found Murdoch standing at one of the windows gazing out at something in the street. He was haggard and gaunt and had a vacant look. It occurred to Haworth that some sudden physical ailment had attacked him. He went up to his side. "What have you found, lad?" he demanded. The next instant his own eyes discovered what it was. An open carriage was just drawing up before the bank. Rachel Ffrench sat in it, and Saint Meran was with her. He looked at them a second or so and then looked at Murdoch--at his wretched face and his hollow eyes. An unsavory exclamation burst from him. "What!" he cried out after it. "There's another man, is there? Is it _that_?" "Yes," was Murdoch's monotonous reply. "There's another man." CHAPTER XLIII. "EVEN." The same evening M. Saint Meran had the pleasure of meeting a person of whom he had heard much, and in whom he was greatly interested. This person was the master of "Haworth's," who came in after dinner. If he had found Murdoch a little trying and wearisome, M. Saint Meran found Haworth astounding. He was not at all prepared for him. When he walked into the room as if it were his own, gave a bare half-nod to Ffrench, and carried himself aggressively to Miss Ffrench's side, Saint Meran was transfixed with astonishment. He had heard faint rumors of something like this before, but he never dreamed of seeing it. He retreated within himself and proceeded to study minutely the manners and characteristics of the successful manufacturers of Great Britain. "He is very large," he said, with soft sarcasm, to Miss Ffrench. "Very large indeed." "That," replied Miss Ffrench, "is probably the result of the iron trade."