After that he got up and began to make his preparations to go home while Haworth sat and watched him. "I shall want to go away," he said. "When I come back I shall know what the result is to be." "Start to-morrow morning," said Haworth. "And keep close. By the time you come back----" He stopped and left his chair, and the bell which called the hands to work began its hurried clanging. At the door he paused. "When shall you take it away?" he asked. "To-night," Murdoch answered. "After dark." At home he only told them one thing--that in the morning he was going to London and did not know when he should return. He did not go to the Works during the day, but remained at home trying to rest. But he could not sleep and the day seemed to lag heavily. In the afternoon he left the sofa on which he had lain through the morning and went out. He walked slowly through the town and at last turned down the lane which led to the Briarley's cottage. He felt as if there would be a sort of relief to the tenseness of his mood in a brief interview with Janey. When he went into the house, Mr. Briarley was seated in Mrs. Dixon's chair unscientifically balancing his latest-born upon his knee. His aspect was grave and absorbed; he was heated and disheveled with violent exertion; the knot of his blue cotton neckerchief had twisted itself under his right ear in a painfully suggestive manner. Under some stress of circumstances he had been suddenly pressed into service, and his mode of placating his offspring was at once unprofessional and productive of frantic excitement. But the moment he caught sight of Murdoch an alarming change came upon him. His eyes opened to their fullest extent, his jaw fell and the color died out of his face. He rose hurriedly, dropped the youngest Briarley into his chair and darted out of the house, in such trepidation that his feet slipped under him when he reached the lower step, where he fell with a loud clatter of wooden clogs, scrambling up again with haste and difficulty and disappearing at once. Attracted by the disturbance, Janey darted in from the inner room barely in time to rescue the deserted young Briarley. "Wheer's he gone?" she demanded, signifying her father. "I towd her he wur na fit to be trusted! Wheer's he gone?" "I don't know," Murdoch answered. "I think he ran away because he saw me. What is the trouble?" "Nay, dunnot ax me! We canna mak' him out, neyther mother nor me. He's been settin' i' th' house fur three days, as if he wur feart to stir out--settin' by th' fire an' shakin' his yed, an' cryin' ivvery now and then. An' here's her i' th' back room to wait on. A noice toime this is fur him to pick to go off in. He mowt ha' waited till she wur done wi'." As conversation naturally could not flourish under these circumstances, after a few minutes Murdoch took his leave.