Even as he spoke the string parted and the candlestick fell into the water below.
Benson swore quietly.
"I'll soon get another," said George, starting up.
"Never mind, the well's all right," said Benson.
"It won't take a moment, sir," said the other over his shoulder.
"Are you master here, or am I?" said Benson hoarsely.
George came back slowly, a glance at his master's face stopping the protest upon his tongue, and he stood by watching him sulkily as he sat on the well and removed his outer garments. Both men watched him curiously, as having completed his preparations he stood grim and silent with his hands by his sides.
"I wish you'd let me go, sir," said George, plucking up courage to address him. "You ain't fit to go, you've got a chill or something. I shouldn't wonder it's the typhoid. They've got it in the village bad."
For a moment Benson looked at him angrily, then his gaze softened. "Not this time, George," he said, quietly. He took the looped end of the rope and placed it under his arms, and sitting down threw one leg over the side of the well.
"How are you going about it, sir?" queried George, laying hold of the rope and signing to Bob to do the same.