She looked up into his face disarmed by the unexpected gentleness.
“There was nothing whatever to do,” she replied. “It was cold meat; the potatoes were ready for the pan, and Keturah allows nobody to mix her puddings. If I’d laid the cloth it would have been as much as I should have done.”
“Very likely,” assented Inman. “The time’ll come maybe when you can set Keturah her work; but it isn’t yet, and we’ve got to lie low for a while. Partner!”—he laughed with sinister meaning and looked into his wife’s eyes which reflected none of his humour. “We’ll have no partnerships now, my lass. ‘All for my-sen’ is a game two can play at, and the cleverest wins.”
He said no more nor did he kiss his wife as he took his leave of her, matrimonial trimmings of that kind not being to his taste—for which relief Nancy was thankful. She remained standing with her eyes on the ground for quite a long time after he was gone, professing to debate with herself her future line of conduct but fearing all the time that she would obey. The power of those steely eyes was over her awake and asleep.
“Silly fool indeed!” she muttered as she returned to the kitchen.
CHAPTER XII
IN WHICH BALDWIN’S SKY BECOMES
SLIGHTLY OVERCAST
DESPITE frequent tiffs and an occasional battle-royal like that which has just been described, Inman’s influence with his master strengthened as the days went by. However cunning and suspicious a man may be he is in danger of being outwitted if he has no better weapons than a quick temper and a slow brain to oppose to the coolness and acumen of an alert adversary. And when the adversary protests friendship, and, refusing to be provoked, offers indisputable evidences of loyalty and goodwill, the most churlish nature must be affected, as the continual dropping of water will in course of time smoothen the grittiest rock.
Such evidences were too conspicuous to be overlooked for Inman never tired of devising ingenious schemes for crippling the enterprise of the Drakes; and Baldwin stored in his memory an admiration that nothing would have wrung from his lips, as he saw with what subtle ingenuity Inman spread his nets and succeeded in obliterating all traces of his operations. Suspicion there might be, but where concealment was advisable Inman took care there should be no proof. Baldwin reconciled his mind to what was unpalatable in his foreman’s manner because of the Machiavelian service he was rendering to his interests. The one bitter ingredient in the cup of his satisfaction was the knowledge that his competitors—father and son alike—went steadily on their way, undisturbed by all the hindrances that were set in their path.
One day towards the end of April Baldwin summoned Inman to the office. The morning’s letters lay open on the desk, and one of them the master held in his hand and perused a second time with a sullen look.