“Oh, Richard, my boy,” said Mrs Glaire, “I’m afraid you’ve made matters worse.”
“I’ll see about that,” said Richard, rubbing his hands, and giving a look askant at the vicar, who stood perfectly silent. “They’ll be down on their knees before the week’s out, as soon as the cupboard begins to be nipped. Are they all gone, Banks?”
“Yes, they’re all gone,” said the foreman, returning. “I wouldn’t ha’ thowt it on ’em.”
“Stop!” cried Richard, as a sudden idea seemed to strike him. “What time did you go away, Joe?”
“’Bout nine.”
“And all was right then?”
“That I’ll sweer,” said the foreman; “I went all over the works. It must ha’ been done by some cowardly sneak as had hid in the place.”
“I know who it was,” said Richard, with his eyes sparkling with malicious glee.
“Know who it was?” said Banks. “Tell me, Maister Richard, and I’ll ’bout break his neck.”
“It was that scoundrel Tom Podmore.”