“You are a strange lad, Dick Winthorpe,” said the engineer, looking at them curiously.
“Oh, but he will speak, Mr Marston! I can get him to,” cried Tom. “Come, Dick, say who it was.”
Dick stared at him wildly, for there was something so horrible to him in this boy trying now to make him state what would result in his father’s imprisonment and death, that Tom seemed for the moment in his eyes quite an unnatural young monster at whose presence he was ready to shudder.
“How can you be so obstinate!” cried Tom. “You shall tell. Who was it?”
Dick turned from him in horror, and would have hurried away, but Mr Marston caught his arm.
“Stop a moment, Dick Winthorpe,” he said. “I must have a few words with you before we part. It is plain enough that all these outrages are directed against the persons who are connected with the drainage scheme, and that their lives are in danger. Now I am one of these persons, and to gratify the petty revenge of a set of ignorant prejudiced people who cannot see the good of the work upon which we are engaged, I decline to have myself made a target. I ask you, then, who this was. Will you speak?”
Dick shook his head.
“Well, then, I am afraid you will be forced to speak. I consider it to be my duty to have these outrages investigated, and to do this I shall write up to town. The man or men who will be sent down will be of a different class to the unfortunate constable who was watching here. Now, come, why not speak?”
“Mr Marston!” cried Dick hoarsely.
“Yes! Ah, that is better! Now, come, Dick; we began by being friends. Let us be greater friends than ever, as we shall be, I am sure.”