“But you never saw it liquid so that it could be poured out like water.”
“No,” I said, as I followed him, wondering whether I had not better tell him that I had overheard a strange remark about poisoning a dog, and ask if he thought there was any risk about Piter, who seemed to grow much uglier every day, and yet I liked him better.
The end of it was that I saw the steel lifted out of the furnace in crucibles and poured forth like golden-silver water into charcoal moulds, but I did not speak about the dog.
Chapter Ten.
“’Night, Mate.”
As it happened, Mr Tomplin came in that evening, and when he asked how matters were progressing at the works, Uncle Dick looked round and seemed to be asking his brothers whether he should speak.
“Ah! I see,” said Mr Tomplin; “they have been up to some tricks with you.”
“Tricks is a mild term,” said Uncle Jack bitterly.