"Mind," said the latter, "you ain't supposed to go to sleep. You goes your rounds four times. There's the rules." He pointed to a card on the wall, and added—"I take forty winks myself every now and then, but I can wake up if a fly jumps on the table. Now, I'm off. I'll be back in lots o' time."
He departed, whistling as he went, and not feeling the least ashamed of betraying the trust reposed in him, by thus entrusting the safety of the whole mill to a comparative stranger. Timothy was not in the habit of asking whether things were right before he did them, but only whether they were pleasant or convenient.
He did not notice Archie Fairfax, who was standing at the office-door as he walked quickly by, just under a newly-lighted lamp.
There was some one else watching too, from under the shadow of a projecting buttress, whom neither Archie nor Timothy perceived. It was Simon Bond—Stephen's bitterest enemy.
Ever since the day when the lad had refused to answer his rude questions, Simon had been on the look-out for his revenge. Twice he had waylaid Stephen, and tried to give him the thrashing he had promised him.
But once Stephen had eluded him by going through a big shop which had an opening on the other side; once some one had come up just as Simon had got his foe into a quiet corner.
It was of no use for him to track Stephen to his home, for he knew how crowded it was in those narrow streets; and though a "row" would probably be a matter of daily occurrence, there was every likelihood that the men who looked on might take the side of their own neighbour against a stranger like Simon.
"But my time'll come yet," he said to himself, "if I wait long enough."
He contented himself, while waiting for the longed-for day of vengeance, with adding what he could to Stephen's load of trouble.
His work was in the same big room, and he took care that Stephen should have the draughtiest corner of it, and be the last to get into the office on pay-day. And he managed that if anything did go wrong, suspicion should fall on Stephen—in which Archie was his unconscious helper. Then, if Stephen ventured to speak while waiting outside for admittance in the morning—which he did very seldom—Simon would repeat his words in a loud, mocking voice, and comment upon them, and turn them into ridicule, till poor Stephen dreaded the sight of him more than of all the other men put together.