"I'll down wi' thee, thou prating fool!" cried Joe fiercely. "Are ye men, to listen to that maulkin?" "Yes, they are," cried Sim; "and you're an owd fool to faight." "Shall we try to drive them out, Banks?" whispered the vicar. "No good," said Joe, sturdily. "Let's hear what they've gotten to say; it'll give you and the others breath, and mebbe by that time the maister can faight a bit, too. I'm an owd fool, am I?" he said, "eh, Sim Slee?" "Yes; to faight for the man as has gotten away thee bairn." "Thou lies, thou chattering jay," cried the old man furiously; "say it again, and I'll brain thee." "I do say it again," cried Sim, who was quite out of the foreman's reach. "It's true, aint it, lads?" "Yes, yes, he's gotten her away." "It's a lie," cried Joe Banks again. "Tell 'em, Maister Dick; tell the cowards they lie." "Yes, yes," said Richard hoarsely, as he stood now leaning against the wall, bathed in perspiration, bleeding, ragged, haggard, and faint. "I have not got her away." "Thee lies, Dick Glaire," shrieked Sim. "He paid me to get her awaya, and I wouldn't do it." "It's false," cried Richard again, as he looked round at his fierce pursuers, and then at the doors and windows for a way of escape. "It's true," cried Sim, exultantly. "It's my turn now, Dick Glaire. Yow'd smite me and coot me feace for not doing thee dirty work, will ta? Now harkye here, lads, at this." He drew a piece of paper from his pocket, and read aloud:-- "Be ready at nine to-night. She'll join you by the gate of Lamby's close; then straight off with her to the station, take your tickets, as I told you, to London, and stay with her at the address I gave you till I come." "Now then, Joe Banks," he said, holding out the note, "whose writing's that?" "It's a lie--a forgery," cried Richard, whose face now was of a sickly green. Joe Banks passed his hand before his face, and seemed dazed for a moment; then, catching at the note, he took a candle from the drawers on which it stood, and, as he did so, Richard started forward, and made a snatch at the paper, but a menacing movement on the part of the crowd made him start back, while the vicar looked from face to face, and saw Tom Podmore's stern scowl, and the fire gathered in Joe Banks's eyes. "He'll murder him," he said to himself; and, shifting his position, he got between Joe and Richard Glaire. "Hold your tongue, for your life," he whispered to the trembling man. "Your only chance is to beg for his mercy: for his child's sake. Daisy must be your wife." "Curse you!" cried Richard, through his teeth. "You were always against me." Then he shrank back trembling against the wall, as in the midst of profound silence, the old man read the letter straight through. "Who gi'e thee this, Sim Slee?" he said twice in a husky voice. "Dicky Glaire." "No, no," gasped Richard; "a lie--a lie. It's a forgery. I did not get away Daisy Banks; so help me God, I didn't, Joe."