“As you like, Drake,” replied the squire as he tucked the rug about his knees. “I think myself you’ll be seeking trouble instead of softening it. But I admire your spirit, and if you had been in Briggs’ place I should have reminded you of the saying of the old Roman—‘Fortune can take away riches but not courage.’ I’m afraid it would be lost on Briggs.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Maniwel; “Jagger and me’ll maybe need to remember it, for we’d a little matter of three hundred pounds wi’ him ourselves ’at we were expecting to draw t’ first o’ next month. But that’s neither here nor there. T’ loss of it is bad to bide; but it leaves us just where we were, you see, whereas wi’ Baldwin it means all t’ difference i’ t’ world.”
The squire held out his hand and grasped Maniwel’s.
“I’m sorry, Drake, very sorry——” He seemed about to say more but checked himself. “Tell Jagger to keep his heart up! I don’t need to tell you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the other smiling. “I’ll match my Jew again’ your Roman—‘Be of good cheer!’ He said when they were distressed by t’ waves; and t’ boat got safe to land, you’ll recollect. I shall lose no sleep over t’ job.”
The squire pressed his hand again and the car moved rapidly away, whilst Maniwel went indoors to make himself acquainted with the story of the disaster.
When he had read the columns twice over he sought his son. Jagger was still working in the shop where the light was dim, and he scarcely raised his head when his father entered.
“There’s bad news, lad!” said Maniwel abruptly; “—news you’d never guess.”
“Nought to do wi’ John Clegg, has it?” asked Jagger, straightening himself from the bench.
“That’s a good shot, lad! He’s run away; cleared off wi’ every penny he could lay his hands on! I thank God from my heart ’at you an’ me hasn’t a sin o’ that sort on our souls. There’s hundreds ruined, according to t’ paper.”