"Well, sir, there is a key to every lock."
"That is well said, and I believe it; but one can't always find the key."
"I almost think I have, sir."
"See nobody is listening. Where is Bayne? He is due."
"Oh, he is not very well, sir; and I was to ask you for an hour's absence."
"Let him have the whole afternoon. I'll not have a soul in this but us two. Now come close, and tell me."
They sat opposite each other, and put their heads together over the table, and the following dialogue passed almost in a whisper. To see them, you would have thought they were conspiring against the law, instead of combining to hide a lawful act from the violaters of the law.
"I can forge the blades a dozen miles from Hillsborough."
"Not you; you will be told of. That won't do."
"I shall not be told of; for nobody will know but you. I shall only forge at night; and the building is out of the world, and wedged in, out of sight, between two bleak hills. Sir, it is a deserted church."
"What, forge blades in a church?"
"A deserted church; why not?"
"Little, you are A 1. Go on."
"I can get the blades ground by a friend at Birmingham; and my mother and I can put them together at home. The complete articles will come to you in parcels of a certain colored paper, invoiced in cipher outside, so that they need not be opened; you can trust the invoice, and dispatch them to your London agent."
"All right."
"The steel you must supply me at the current price, and charge it against me."
"Certainly. But your price per gross? For this work can't be done by time."
"Of course not." And Henry named a price per gross at which Cheetham lifted up his hands. "Why, you'll take nine pounds a week at that!"
"Ay, and more," said Henry, coolly. "But I sha'n't make it. Why, this scheme entails no end of expenses. A house, and stables with back entrance. A swift horse, to gallop to the forge at sunset, and back by noon. A cart to take the things to the railway and back, and to the parcel delivery for you. And, besides that, I must risk my neck, riding over broken ground at night: and working night and day shortens life. You can't reduce these things to Labor and Capital. It's Life, Labor, and Capital."
"Hallo! There's a new cry. I tell ye what; you know too much for me. You read the Beehive. I take you at your price."
Then he had a misgiving. "That old Smitem's as crafty as a fox. If he finds you stay here, with no visible employment, he will soon be down on us."
"Ay; but in the day-time I shall appear as a carver of wood, and also an inspector of factories for Dr. Amboyne. Who will suspect me of a night trade, as well as two day trades?"
Cheetham slapped the table triumphantly: but, recovering his caution, he whispered, "It's planned first-rate."
"And now, sir, there is one difficulty you must help me in, if you please. It is to set up the forge unobserved."
"What, am I to find the forge?"
"There's a question, sir! Of course you are. One of these new portable forges."
Cheetham reflected for some little time. He then said it was a ticklish thing, and he saw but one way. "The forge must come here, after closing hours, and you and I must fetch it away in the dead of night, and take it down to the old church, and set it up."
"Well, but, sir, we shall want assistance."
"Nay, nay. I've got the last suit of moleskin I ever worked in laid away. I'll air 'em, and put 'em on again; and, when I've got em on once more, I shall feel a man again. I'll have neither fool nor spy in it: the thing is too serious. I might bring some country fellow, that can't read or write; but no, these portables are small things, and I'm one of the strongest men in Hillsborough. Best keep it to ourselves. When is it to be?"
"Say next Wednesday, two hours after midnight."
"Then that is settled. And now I'll square the old account agreed."
He drew his check-book toward him again.
But Henry slopped him. "Fair play's a jewel," said he smiling.
"The moment you sacked me--"
"Say the Trades, not me."
"Dr. Amboyne hired me, at six guineas a week, to inspect the works.
So you owe me nothing; but to be true to me."
This trait, though it was one of ****** probity, astonished and gratified Mr. Cheetham. He looked on the young man with marked respect. "You are hard; but you are very square. I'll be true as steel to you, and we'll outwit our tyrants together, till I get a chance to put my foot on them. Yes, I'll be open with you; there are plenty of orders from London and the Continent, and one for six sets from swells in Hillsborough."
"Might I see that order?"
"Why not? There, run your eye over it. I want to go into the packing-room for a minute."
He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more than an order.
But it was a great deal more than that to Henry. It was Grace Carden's handwriting, the first specimen he had ever seen.
He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came from it that went to his heart. He devoured the delicately formed letters, and they went to his heart too: he thrilled all over. And the words were as like her as the perfume. She gave the order, and the addresses of her friends, with a pretty little attempt at the businesslike; but, this done, she burst out, "and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr. Little, and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Unions."
These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and brought the tears of tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the words again and again. He put them into his bosom, and took them out again, and gloated over them till they danced before his manly eyes. Then his love took another turn: he started up, and marched and strutted, like a young stag, about the room, with one hand pressing the paper to his bosom. Why had he said Wednesday? It could all have been got ready on Tuesday. No matter, he would make up for that lost day. He was on the road, once more, the road to fortune, and to her.
Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with the paper in his hand, and of course took the vulgar view of his emotion.
"Ay, lad," said he, "and they are all swells, I promise you.
