IV
Warily, above all, must he tickle Gregory’s suspicions.
No one knew of the system that grew up then in that house. The house was secret enough at any time; now it contained a secret within its secret. It contained the pursuit of Gregory by Silas, the difficult tracking-down, the requisite, progressive measure of suggestion, the pieces of paper bearing the poison of a phrase, the impotence of the dumb man, his efforts to escape from his tormentor, then his return in his cravings for a greater certainty. Silas was intent upon his own skill; a touch here, a touch there; he placed them with a sharp and delicate artistry. His only fear now was that Gregory might refuse to go with Calthorpe, and to forestall that danger he got hold of the overseer.
“I hope, Mr. Calthorpe, you’ll keep Gregory to this job. You know he’s diffident,—to look at the way he sticks to those vats, he who’s fit to manage the engine room!—and now he’s saying that you’re wanting him to go out of charity, like, and if he thinks that, he won’t be beholden to you.”
“I’ll go in to him now, and fix it up once for all. There’s no charity about the matter; I don’t want Gregory to talk to the plants, I want him to look at them.”
“I knew I only had to mention it to you,” said Silas demurely.