“That’s a good shot, lad! He’s run away; cleared off wi’ every penny he could lay his hands on! I thank God from my heart ’at you an’ me hasn’t a sin o’ that sort on our souls. There’s hundreds ruined, according to t’ paper.” Jagger had not moved. His hands still grasped the plane where his eyes also rested. “It’s naught but what I’ve expected,” he said in a hard voice. “I’ve dreamt night after night ’at t’ money was lost, and someway I’ve never built on it. We lose fifteen pound a year interest, and we’re where we were before—on t’ Street called Straight.” It was almost a sneer; but it was instantly atoned for, and with a quick glance at his father’s face he went on: “Nay, I’ll say naught about it. T’ devil’s won that trick, but t’ game isn’t finished yet. I care naught about t’ money now ’at Nancy’s——” He stopped as comprehension widened, and a new light came into his eyes. “By Jove, it’s worth it! I never thought about Baldwin! T’ devil’s trumped after all, for Baldwin’ll be floored. I’d ha’ paid three hundred pounds wi’ pleasure to ha’ floored Baldwin!” He chuckled with satisfaction, but the smile faded when he caught sight of his father’s face. “Jagger!” said Maniwel almost sternly. “I’m sorry to hear a son o’ mine talk like a child o’ the devil. ‘Satan hath desired to have thee, that he may sift thee like wheat.’ But you’re a beginner, and you’ve a deal to learn. If Baldwin was to fall down Gordel and break his leg you’d none let him lie to crawl home by himself; and I’m off there now to talk things over wi’ him, if so be as he’ll let me.” “You are?” said Jagger, with closed teeth. “I’m off there now,” repeated his father. “Then there’s no more to be said”; and Jagger turned to his work. Keturah had just lit the lamp when Maniwel knocked at the door and raised the latch in the familiar fashion of the country. Baldwin was sitting by the hearth smoking the one pipe in which he indulged himself of an evening. His eyebrows met in a scowl as he recognised his visitor and the tone in which he bade him enter was anything but cordial. “It’s thee, is it? It’s long since tha was i’ this house afore.” Involuntarily his speech broadened into the homelier dialect which both men had used to employ with each other in former days, and Maniwel followed suit. “Aye,” he replied, “and I don’t know ’at I durst ha’ come, Baldwin, if it hadn’t been ’at I wor thrussen. But it’s a saying ’at trouble makes strange bedmates, and there’s trouble for both on us, lad. I’ one way happen it’s worse for me nor what it is for thee, for I stand to lose all I’ve saved; but I’m flayed tha’ll find it harder to bide, for tha drops from a bigger height.”