"You've ruined me!" he repeated. "You! A chap that's played gentleman manufacturer; a chap I've laughed at; a chap I took in to serve my own ends—ruined me, by——"
"Oh, no, no!" the culprit cried out. "My dear fellow, no! No, no!"
Haworth strode up to him and struck his fist against the table.
"Have I ever told you a word of what was going on?" he demanded.
"No! No!"
"Have I ever let you be aught but what I swore you should be at th' first—a fellow to play second fiddle and do what he was told?"
Ffrench turned pale. A less hard nature would have felt more sympathy for him.
"No," he answered, "you have not," and his chin dropped on his breast.
Haworth shook his fist in his face. He was in a frenzy of rage and despair.
"It's been going from bad to worse for six months," he said; "but you were not up to seeing it stare you in the face. Strikes are the things for trade to thrive on! One place after another gone down and Jem Haworth's stood up. Jem Haworth's outdone 'em all. I've not slept for three month, my lad. I've fought it like a tiger! I've not left a stone unturned. I've held my mouth shut and my eyes open,—aye, and held my breath, too. I've swore every time I saw daylight that I'd hold it out to the end and show 'em all what Haworth was made of, and how he stood when th' nobs went down at the first drive. I'd sooner have hell than what's bound to come now! And it's you that's done it. You've lost me twenty thousand
