Coventry watched her unseen. She went to the porch, and, after she had been there some time, the door was opened just a little, then wide, and she entered the building. He saw it all in a moment: the girl was already bought by the other side, and had carried his rival a letter before his eyes.
A clandestine correspondence!
All his plans and his resolutions melted away before this discovery.
There was nothing to be done but to save the poor girl from this miserable and degrading attachment, and its inevitable consequences.
He went home, pale with fury, and never once closed his eyes all night.
Next day he ordered his dog-cart early; and told Mr. Raby and Grace he was going to Hillsborough for medical advice: had a pain in his back he could not get rid of.
He called on the chief constable of Hillsborough, and asked him, confidentially, if he knew any thing about a workman called Little.
"What; a Londoner, sir? the young man that is at odds with the Trades?"
"I shouldn't wonder. Yes; I think he is. A friend of mine takes an interest in him."
"And so do I. His case was a disgrace to the country, and to the constabulary of the place. It occurred just ten days before I came here, and it seems to me that nothing was done which ought to have been done."
Mr. Coventry put in a question or two, which elicited from Mr. Ransome all he knew about the matter.
"Where does this Little live?" was the next inquiry.
"I don't know; but I think you could learn at Mr. Cheetham's. The only time I ever saw Little, he was walking with the foreman of those works. He was pointed out to me. A dark young man; carries himself remarkably well--doesn't look like a workman. If they don't know at Cheetham's, I'll find him out for you in twenty-four hours."
"But this Grotait. Do you know him?"
"Oh, he is a public character. Keeps 'The Cutlers' Arms,' in Black Street."
"I understand he repudiates all these outrages."
"He does. But the workmen themselves are behind the scenes; and what do they call him? Why, 'Old Smitem.'"
"Ah! You are one of those who look below the surface," said the courtier.
He then turned the conversation, and, soon after, went away. He had been adroit enough to put his questions in the languid way of a man who had no personal curiosity, and was merely discharging a commission.
Mr. Ransome, as a matter of form, took a short note of the conversation; but attached no importance to it. However, he used the means at his command to find out Little's abode. Not that Mr. Coventry had positively asked him to do it; but, his attention being thus unexpectedly called to the subject, he felt desirous to talk to Little on his own account.
Mr. Coventry went straight to "The Cutlers' Arms," but he went slowly. A powerful contest was now going on within him; jealousy and rage urged him onward, honor and gratitude held him back. Then came his self-deceiving heart, and suggested that Miss Carden had been the first to break her promise (she had let Jael Dence into Little's secret), and that he himself was being undermined by cunning and deceit: strict notions of honor would be out of place in such a combat. Lastly, he felt it his DUTY to save Miss Carden from a degrading connection.
All these considerations, taken together, proved too strong for his good faith; and so stifled the voice of conscience, that it could only keep whispering against the deed, but not prevent it.
He went direct to "The Cutlers' Arms." He walked into the parlor and ordered a glass of brandy-and-water, and asked if he could see Mr. Grotait, privately. Mr. Grotait came in.
"Sit down, Mr. Grotait. Will you have any thing?"
"A glass of ale, sir, if you please."
When this had been brought, and left, and the parties were alone, Coventry asked him whether he could receive a communication under a strict promise of secrecy.
"If it is a trade matter, sir, you can trust me. A good many have."
"Well then, I can tell you something about a workman called Little.
But before I say a word, I must make two express conditions. One is, that no violence shall be used toward him; the other, that you never reveal to any human creature, it was I who told you."
"What, is he working still?"
"My conditions, Mr. Grotait?"
"I promise you absolute secrecy, sir, as far as you are concerned.
As to your other condition, the matter will work thus: if your communication should be as important as you think, I can do nothing--the man is not in the saw-trade--I shall carry the information to two other secretaries, and shall not tell them I had it from Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope." (Mr. Coventry started at finding himself known.) "Those gentlemen will be sure to advise with me, and I shall suggest to them to take effectual measures, but to keep it, if possible, from the knowledge of all those persons who discredit us by their violent acts."
"Well then, on that understanding--the man works all night in a deserted church at Cairnhope; it is all up among the hills."
Grotait turned red. "Are you sure of this?"
"Quite sure?"
"You have seen him?"
"Yes."
"Has he a forge?"
"Yes; and bellows, and quantities of molds, and strips of steel. He is working on a large scale."
"It shall be looked into, sir, by the proper persons. Indeed, the sooner they are informed, the better."
"Yes, but mind, no violence. You are strong enough to drive him out of the country without that."
"I should hope so."
Coventry then rose, and left the place; but he had no sooner got into the street, than a sort of horror fell on him; horror of himself, distrust and dread of the consequences, to his rival but benefactor.
Almost at the door he was met by Mr. Ransome, who stopped him and gave him Little's address; he had obtained it without difficulty from Bayne.
"I am glad you reminded me, sir," said he; "I shall call on him myself, one of these days."
These words rang in Coventry's ears, and put him in a cold perspiration. "Fool!" thought he, "to go and ask a public officer, a man who hears every body in turn."
