THE golden moment passed and did not return. The next morning found Baldwin ill and depressed, with a great craving for the bottle his weak mind had forsworn the night before, and a foreboding that he had made a fool of himself and an enemy of Inman. That crafty individual, however, was in chastened mood and more than ordinarily patient and thoughtful. A full whisky-bottle had replaced the empty one in the office cupboard; but the foreman busied himself in the workshop and never turned his head in that direction the whole day. Once, when a question was asked him relating to some work that could not be completed for some considerable time, he appeared to hesitate and referred the questioner to Mr. Briggs, with the quiet explanation that he might have left before then; a remark that infuriated the master, who called upon the devil to witness that he did not know what Inman was talking about.
During the morning Maniwel, who had tormented himself with reproaches during the night, sent up word that he would like to speak with Baldwin, who dictated the surly reply that he had no time to waste. Repulsed by the master, Maniwel next turned to the man, and waylaid Inman the same evening as he walked home from the hotel, to which he had now transferred his custom.
“I would like a word wi’ you, my lad,” he began with characteristic directness, “about my old mate, Baldwin. It isn’t i’ t’ nature o’ things ’at you should be over friendly wi’ me, I know, but I can’t see a man going down t’ hill as fast as Baldwin’s going without asking if there’s naught can be done to steady him.”
“And what gives me the honour of being picked out for your questions?” Inman inquired with cold sarcasm. “Am I to understand ’at you think I’m responsible, or what?”
“I’ve said naught o’ t’ sort,” Maniwel replied gently. “Most o’ what I’ve heard has been t’other way about, and they say you’ve done your best to check him. I’ve lived long enough to know ’at a man’ll fly to t’ bottle when he’s i’ trouble without help from nob’dy. Nay, it’s because I hear he sets a deal o’ store by you, and’ll let you guide him when he’ll listen to nob’dy else, ’at I thought I’d like to say ’at if there was ought I could do——”
“If you’ll give me a turn, old man,” Inman broke in with an icy passion that told Maniwel there was nothing good to be expected there, “I’ll save you any further waste o’ breath. Sanctimonious sermons are naught i’ my line, and you’d do better to let charity begin at home and get Jagger to hearken. He’ll happen tell you which o’ t’ Ten Commandments he’s been breaking!
“But there’s one thing I will say: if I’d been minded to put the brake on before you spoke, and try to hold Baldwin back, I wouldn’t now—I’d push him forward wi’ both hands sooner than give you pleasure, you canting old humbug. So you can get back home and see what good your damned interference has done your old mate!”
He had advanced his face close to Maniwel’s as he hissed out the closing words, but the action had not the effect he expected.
“Then God forgi’e you, my lad!” said Maniwel sadly, “and save you from having a man’s blood required at your hands. But I won’t believe aught as bad of you; nobbut I’ll say this one thing: the devil’s a master that pays poor wages, and when a man has his feet on t’ slippy road ’at leads to t’ pit it doesn’t take both hands to push him forrad.”
“I’ll keep my feet without your help, old man,” Inman replied sneeringly, “but heark ye! I’ll bring you and your precious Jagger to your knees yet; I’ll——”