CHAPTER XXVIII.
A SPEECH.
When he returned to the Works the noon-bell was ringing, and the hands were crowding through the gates on their way to their midday meal. Among those going out he met Floxham, who spoke to him as he passed.
"Theer's some o' them chaps," he said, "as wunnot show their faces again."
"Aye," said Haworth, "I see that."
Ffrench had left the bank and was pacing up and down his room panic-stricken.
"What have you heard?" he exclaimed, turning as Haworth entered. "Is it—is it as bad as you expected?"
"Aye," said Haworth, "worse and better too."
"Better?" he faltered.
Haworth flung himself into a chair. He wore a look of dogged triumph.
"Leave 'em to me," he answered. "I'm in th' mood fur 'em now."
But it was not until some time afterward that he delivered the message Rachel Ffrench had intrusted to him.
On hearing it her father appeared to rally a little.
"It seems a rather dangerous thing to do," he said, "but—it is like her. And perhaps, after all, there is something in in showing no fear."
And for a few moments after having thought the inci-
