“Yes, and a bloody fine lot of prices they was, too, if the truth was known!” said Bundy. “There was six other firms after this job to my knowledge—Pushem and Sloggem, Bluffum and Doemdown, Dodger and Scampit, Snatcham and Graball, Smeeriton and Leavit, Makehaste and Sloggitt, and Gord only knows ’ow many more.”
At this moment Newman came into the room. He looked so white and upset that the others involuntarily paused in their conversation.
“Well, what do YOU think of it?” asked Harlow.
“Think of what?” said Newman.
“Why, didn’t ’Unter tell you?” cried several voices, whose owners looked suspiciously at him. They thought—if Hunter had not spoken to Newman, it must be because he was already working under price. There had been a rumour going about the last few days to that effect.
“Didn’t Misery tell you? They’re not goin’ to pay more than six and a half after this week.”
“That’s not what ’e said to me. ’E just told me to knock off. Said I didn’t do enough for ’em.”
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Crass, pretending to be overcome with surprise.
Newman’s account of what had transpired was listened to in gloomy silence. Those who—a few minutes previously—had been talking loudly of chucking up the job became filled with apprehension that they might be served in the same manner as he had been. Crass was one of the loudest in his expression of astonishment and indignation, but he rather overdid it and only succeeded in confirming the secret suspicion of the others that he had had something to do with Hunter’s action.
The result of the discussion was that they decided to submit to Misery’s terms for the time being, until they could see a chance of getting work elsewhere.