“You’re right about the poor-house,” he said with an emphasis that struck a chill to the woman’s heart; “and I’m beginning to wonder if I can save you from it. I’ve lent him five hundred pounds of my own savings this morning, which he knows ought to go to the bank this afternoon, and he’s too drunk to take it.” “Eh, dear! eh, dear!” Keturah sank into a chair and began to sob, but Inman checked her. “Stop that baby work! If Nancy was able to go about she’d act for me, but as she isn’t there is only you.” “Aye, more’s the pity!” wailed Keturah. “Nancy’s more in her nor me, and ’ud know what to do.” “I’m going to tell you what to do,” Inman replied firmly. “You must get him to bed to-night at all costs and keep the drink away from him. There’s no more in the cupboard and no one must fetch him any. If he’s allowed to sleep in his chair again it’s a thousand to one he chokes. I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s a fact that his face was blue when I roused him this morning.” “The Lord save us!” ejaculated Keturah, “and you going to be away all t’ night!” “Get him to bed,” continued Inman, “and you’ll be able to talk to him to-morrow morning. Then you must tell him that I left word that he was not to forget the bank. You’ll remember!” Keturah sighed and clasped her hands helplessly. “Aye, I’ll think on hard enough, but what am I to do if he won’t come? I can’t lug him in!” “I’ve thought of that,” Inman replied, and his unaccustomed gentleness gave Keturah the first ray of hope she had had for many a day. “I’ll see him last thing and try to get him in; but if I fail, and he doesn’t come of his own accord by bedtime, you must get the men to carry him in and lay him down. We mustn’t have him die in the office.” “The Lord help us!” Keturah wailed again; “to think it’s come to this pass, and him ’at never used to touch t’ stuff. Eh, dear! I’m sure it’s enough to drive a woman off her head!” Inman said nothing and she saw him no more until he came in for his tea, when his face was still gloomy. “I’ve done my best,” he said, “but he won’t budge. However, the booze is all done and I’ve put the lamp and matches out of his way. In another hour or two he’ll either be more reasonable or too drunk to know what’s happening, and you can then have him carried in. I’ve mentioned it to Frank and he’ll step round about nine.” It was after six when he left the house and was driven off to catch the slow train for Airlee, where he would have to spend two or three hours before the mail left for Hull. During the long drive he spoke only once to the stable boy who drove him, when he remarked that it was a wild, black night and would snow before morning. “Ending up wi’ ‘Damn it!’” the youthful Jehu remarked to the equally youthful porter at the station, as the two watched the train bear Inman away. “I’d as soon drive Old Nick his-self as yon!”