“I’m to turn out of my cottage to-morrow,” said the man briefly.
“Indeed!” The pupils of Nicholas’s eyes contracted. “May I ask why that information should be of interest to me?”
“It’s of no interest to you, sir, and we know it. You never hear a word of what happens outside this house.”
“Mr. Spencer Curtis conducts my business,” said Nicholas politely.
“We know that too, sir, and we know the way it is conducted. It’s an iron hand, and a heart like flint. It’s pay or go, and not an hour’s grace.”
“You can hardly expect him to give you my cottages rent free,” suggested Nicholas suavely.
The man winced.
“No, sir. But where a few weeks would make all the difference to a man, where it’s a matter of a few shillings standing between home and the roadside—” he broke off.
Nicholas was silent.
“I thought perhaps a word to you, sir,” went on the man half wistfully. “We’re to go to-morrow if I can’t pay, and I can’t. A couple of weeks might have made all the difference. It was for the wife I came, sneaking up here like a thief. She’s lost two little ones; they never but opened their eyes on the world to shut them again. I’m glad on it now. But women aren’t made that way. There’s another coming. She’s not strong. I doubt but the shock’ll not take her and the little one too. Better for them both if it does. A man can face odds, and remake his life if he is a man—” he stopped.