“I’ll go, lad. It’s ill trying to reason wi’ a man ’at’s i’ drink; but just try to let this one word get through t’ drink to thi memory. When tha comes to thi-sen and wants a friend, tha’ll find him where he’s always been—at Maniwel Drake’s.”
With these words and without a backward glance, he left the room, and returned home.
CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH NANCY’S BABY IS BORN AND JAGGER LOSES
HIS TEMPER
THERE are some men who take an almost scientific interest in compassing the ruin of others. Along certain channels the current of humane and kindly feeling may flow as with other men, but let some particular individual injure them, or stand in the way of their advancement, and their conduct becomes inhuman; and they will watch the sufferings they produce with something of the detached and impersonal interest of the chemist who expects that his mixture of chemicals must ultimately shatter the vessel that contains it, and whose only care is to safeguard himself from injury in the process.
Inman was of this class. It afforded him positive pleasure to see how the coils he wound so cunningly tightened about his unsuspecting victim. The knowledge that he was unsuspected added to his enjoyment; tickled his sense of humour. He believed with all his soul that Baldwin’s motto—“all for my-sen” could not be bettered; it was the view of life held by all healthy animals—by the cross-grained buck-rabbit as much as by the stoat; and the game of stalking the stalker was one that afforded him endless amusement.
It gratified him too to realise that he was succeeding in another direction: that the villagers were looking upon him with a less unfriendly eye as Baldwin’s increasing demoralisation and coarseness of language cooled their already luke-warm sympathies. It was to the man’s credit, they said, that he should keep his head and his temper, and work industriously and cleverly in his master’s interests, when everybody knew what provocation to wrath the master offered. Inman never manifested ill-temper; never advanced beyond a half-humorous sneer; maybe (they argued) he showed his worst side to the world, as the men of his wild country were said to do. There were others, however, who shook their heads meaningly, and kept firm hold of their distrust.
Meantime Inman’s grip upon his master tightened, and a more domineering note crept into his voice when he addressed him; but only when they were alone; only when evening brought them to the council-room and the bottle.
“I tell you,” said Inman, “Nancy’s gone as far as she will go. If you think you can do better than I’ve done, try her yourself—I’m willing. I daresay in spite of all your foul language and black looks she loves you as much as she does me.” There was a harder note than usual in his voice, as if his patience was almost exhausted, and his lip took an ugly curve as he spoke of Nancy’s love, for she had been irritable of late, and once or twice hot words had passed between them.
They were sitting at the table in the dimly-lit office, each with a glass in front of him; but Inman was making a mere pretence of drinking.