For a moment the impulse upon Frank Maynard to seize his cousin by the throat and to thrash him to within an inch of his life almost over-powered him. But the thought of his wife sitting at home, of the bills he already owed in the town, of the house on his hands for another quarter, and that he was actually without a penny, rushed upon him, and with a tremendous effort he kept down his passion.
Fred continued. “In some respects I would rather keep the work in my own hands. Now what I think of doing is this. I will take the highest of these estimates, sixpence a yard for clay, and a shilling for rock. Now you shall work the men just as if they were your own. I shall pay them. If there is any profit at the end, that is if we have done the work under this price, we will divide it between us, and in the meantime you shall draw two pounds a week, to be charged of course against the work. What do you say to that?” Fred spoke cheerfully as if he were making a most liberal offer.
“I am perfectly certain, Fred, that the work cannot be done at the price. Still, if those are your only terms, I must accept them. I have no choice.”
“And mind, Frank, work is to be work. I shall expect you to do just the same as any other inspector would do. To be on the work before the men begin at six in the morning, and to be there till they knock off at night.”
Again Frank had a very hard struggle with himself, his teeth were set hard, and the veins on his forehead stood out like cords. But he only said, “Of course I shall do my work like other people. Good night.”
Fred Bingham looked after him for some time with his smile upon his lips. “I’ll make you smart before I’ve done with you, my fine fellow.” And then he went out into the night air.
“Oh, Katie,” Frank said to himself as he shut the door, “you little know what I have stood to-night for your sake. My God, my God.! what is to become of us? To think that I should have been such a gross idiot as to believe all these years in this infernal scoundrel. What have I done to make him hate me like this? God knows I have always taken his part since he was a boy, have quarrelled for him, have supported him against Prescott and Alice and Kate and all, and now at last, when he knows I am helplessly in his power, bound hand and foot, he treats me as if—Good Heavens! I shall go mad. Oh, if I could only get out of this, only carry out our old plan. But there, it is too late now. At any rate I must stop for a time; if the worst comes to the worst, Katie and I must put our pride in our pockets, and ask the Drakes to lend us enough to take us abroad.”
“Frank, you are dreadfully pale,” Kate said anxiously, when he came in.
“I knocked against the gate in the dark,” Frank said, deceiving his wife for the first time, “and shook myself a bit. I shall be all right presently.”
“Where did you hurt yourself, Frank?”