When the water boiled, Durham made a second brew of tea and took his seat on a stool which was by the table. He helped himself to bread and meat and commenced his meal, but never a word did Dudgeon speak. He sat placidly smoking, his eyes on the smouldering embers of the fire, without as much as a glance in the direction of his visitor.
The sun went down and the interior of the hut grew gloomy.
"Haven't you a lamp?" Durham asked. "I cannot see what I am eating."
"Make the fire up—that's good enough for me," Dudgeon replied without raising his head.
On the shelf over the fire-place Durham had noticed a kerosene lamp, a cheap, rickety article with a clear-glass bowl half-full of oil. He rose from the stool, reached for the lamp, put it on the table and lit it.
"Here, that oil costs money," Dudgeon snarled as he looked round. "Half a crown won't cover luxuries—you'll pass over another bob if you're going to waste my oil."
Durham resumed his seat without heeding.
"Do you hear?" Dudgeon exclaimed. "If you ain't going to pay, you ain't going——"
He stood up as he spoke, stood up and took a step towards the table with one hand outstretched to lift away the lamp.
Durham, looking round as he moved, saw his eyes suddenly open wide and stare fixedly at the door.