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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVEI^ For God and Labour. (THE STORY OF A GOOD WOMAN'S SIN.) BY C. HALL FEILDEN. AUTHOR OF A Good Mail's Sin," "When the Te-wiptev, F,ails," &c., &,c. CHAPTER XII. IN THE SERPENT'S POWER. Sir Donald Barclay did not see a great deal -of Herbert Blake, probably not half as much as Herbert Blake saw of him, for there was very very little thai, went on at Rainsford Hall which Blake did not know. Already he understood the characters of every- one of the servants employed in the household, and those whom he had discovered were either dangerous or useless to him had, for some reason, been dismissed. The same thing pertained withth-o officials pt the Mill. Only those who possessed subdued spirits were kept; anyone who had dared to dis- agree with him in any shape or form had had to find employment somewhere else. So far as the men were concerned! anyone who dared to look at him with suspicious eyes was no longer employed by the firm. Hence it was that Herbert Blake was not ex&ctly the best loved man in Blacktown. So far as his actions at the Hall were con- cerned nobody attributed them to him. He wac; too discreet for that. Any dismissing that had been done was never traceable to his actions. It was Sir Donald Barclay on whose shoulders the blame fell, and Sir Donald was really a willing victim. Perhaps it was because he knew that it was futile to fight against this man. Anyhow he was of an easy turn of mind, and when Blake thought and planned it saved him the trouble. But still, the conversation that he had had with Enid Burton that afternoon had somewhat roused him from his lethargic condition. Per- haps it was that she had touched his vanity in pointing out the tremendous power which he could wield, and as Blake entered his study he looked at him for the first time in a way in which a, master is apt to look at a man. "There seems to be a lot of trouble j?oirig on at the Mill, Blake," he said sharply. "1 ou know men won't stand it. You can be firm and treat them with an iron rod, but you don't want to put tJpikes in it." Blake walked leisurely across the room and threw himself into an armchair. He appeared not to have heard the remark that was addressed to him. "It isn't a bit of use," the baronet continued, "grinding down people who have to work for you. Temper a little bit of moderation in your actions. You will get on ever so much better. My father was a strong man. He stood no humbug from anyone, but he didn't conduct the Mill in the way in which you are trying to do it." Blake for a second looked at the young man contemptuousily before he replied. Then he flicked the ash off his cigar. You were speaking about your father, I think," he remarked, coolly, "and! the way in which he conducted the Mill. You forget that three years' enforced absence scarcely leaves you in a position to discuss the way in which he car- ried on the business." Donald looked up nervously. Whilet this man was before him all his power seemed to forsake him. However, he felt that it was wise not to allow himself to be brow-beaten. "I don't need reminding of that, Blake. Cir- cumstances have altered considerably. As your employer I have a right to speak, apart from the fact of being master of the Mill. You must alter your way of dealing with these men, or else some other arrangement will have to be made." Blake rose from his chair, and throwing his legs apart stood leisurely in front of the fire. To anyone entering the room at that moment, he indeed would have appeared the master. He was a tall man. He had the knowledge that when mental strength was allied with physical strength the result was rather impressive. And so it was that he towered over the young man before he condescended to reply. "You remarked, Sir Donald, that since your absence from here some time ago circumstances have altered. I quite agree with you. Now I want to be perfectly candid with you. It is still possible for the wheel of fortune to take another turn round and for circumstances to alter once more. In all your dealings with me whenever I want to do anything it must be done my way, and in order to encourage you to remember this fact I should like you to have ever before your mind, when you are attempting to go contrary to my wishes,, a certain place called the Red Lion Inn at Shoreditch." "For Heaven's sake, Blake," the baronet said1, "don't drag that beastly matter up—it is all dead and gone. Your silence is adequately purchased by the remuneration and the position which you have as manager of the Mill." "My remuneration will be sufficient, Blaire replied, "so long as it meets my requirements. My position will be satisfactory so long as it is not tampered with. Some gossiping individual has been here talking to you I can see. Be- fore you make up your mind again Sir Donald to censure me for reports which have been brought to your ears you will perhaps turn the matter over in your mind and see whether it is advisable. At the present moment you are drawing the interest on something like £ 2,000,000 capital. You have nothing to do— you can go away to the other end of the yor?1 if you wish to. The interest on the capital will still continue to come in. Leave me to do the work and to carry things out as I wish. Her- bert Blake is essential to the welfare of the Mill and any man who is dismissed it is because he is not conducive to the welfare of Herbert Blake." His remarks were made calmly but em- phatically, and before Sir Donald had time to appreciate that the law had been laid down to him the manager had taken his departure. CHAPTER XIII. I HERBERT BLAKE'S FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH I GRACE ROOKSTON. The Mill commenced work at 6 o'clock in the morning, and on this particular occasion, as Mr. Blake entered the building, he noticed one of the female hands in conversation with the porter. "What's the matter, Yates?" he said sharply. Yates looked at him nervously, as though he iwas afraid to speak. "There is no need for him to hide the matter, "whatever it is," the girl spoke for herself. "I should have been here at six o'clock this morn- ing. I am late, and I was explaining the reason why." Blake looked at her critically for a moment, and his keen eyes soon pointed out to him the strong resemblance between her and the photo- graph which he had found in Sir Robert Bar- clay's coffin. A conversation with the girl would be useful to him. "What is your name?" he said, still uphold- ing his managerial role. "Rookston,' she replied, not for one moment flinching. "You will come to my room in an hour's time, Miss Rookston," he said, as he moved away. "Strange how these things work out," he Murmured to himself as he entered the room where the late baronet had transacted all his business. Sir Robert Barclay's name had been removed from the door, and in its place was "Mr. Her- bert Blake, manager." He surveyed the room with pride. All the old fusty books and the ancient decrepid desk which, unknown to him, had contained the baronet's great secret, had been removed. At the present moment it looked more like a reception-room than an office. The floor was carpeted with a most expen- sive Brussels, and around the room were signs of luxury and certainly good taste. "This is only the beginning," he said to him- self. Money, the god whom I serve, will do more than this for me before I have finished. The time is not far distant when I shall have cringing at my feet a vast mass of humanity. All eating their daily bread with money pro- vided by me. Every breath they take will al- most be because I have permitted them to live." As he looked over the desk he found a letter from Nobbs, his confidential foreman. Next to himself, he was the most hated man on the premises, consequently Nobbs was useful to him. The letter simply contained the names of three men who had dared to voice the opinion that Herbert Blake was a "slave-driver." He turned to the telephone and rang up lIIr. Nobbs. "That you, Nobbs?" he asked; and the reply was evISently in the affirmative. "Dismiss those three ingrates who were mentioned in your letter immediately. That will do." And dieia he rang off. He threw himself back in an easy chair and allowed his thoughts to run riot. Incidentally his eye rested upon a sheet of the firm's notepaper. Yes, he thought to himself, "the firm is built on a rock. It started well—plain Robert Barclay was the name, I believe—then it became Sir Robert Barclay, and then Sir Robert Bar- clay and Son. The next move is close at hand. Barclay and Blake is casting its shadow, and when the total eclipse takes place it will be Herbert Blake, Mill Owner." A messenger boy interrupted his meditations by announcing the fact that a Miss Rookston was waiting to see him in answer to a sum- mons which she had received from him. Show her in," he said. As the tall, graceful girl entered the room, intuitively Blake rose from his chair. Something in the beautiful girl's face made him feel that for once he could not play his part. He knew in that moment that she was the daughter of the late baronet. There was no I question about the matter; still, he must not start by allowing his mind to be prejudiced. "You were late this morning, Miss Rookston," he said, sternly. "Any breach of discipline that takes place in this building I like to deal with myself." "I have noticed that," the girl said quietly. He looked at her almost awestruck for the moment. No one since he had entered the mill had ever dared to cast any imputation upon him .-at least, not in his presence. "Your case is very flagrant," he continued. I shall have to consider how I shall deal with the matter. "In doing so," the girl ventured, "will you take into consideration any reason which neces- sitated my being late?" "I scarcely think so," he said. "It is not for me to study reasons. If you buy finery with the money which you earn here instead of food, and, as a consequence, are at starvation's door, that is no business of mine." "The moneys which we make here," Grace said, "scarcely admits of our purchasing finery in even the most modest degree." Her words were spoken fearlessly, and in a quiet tone. Nothing as yet had roused the dominant Barclay blood which was in her veins. "Well now, come!" the manager broke in. "Since you have been a bit outspoken I will listen to the reason why you were late." "My father is ill," she said deliberately. "Oh—your father?" he said, feigning not to know the man "is he employed in the Mill?" "No," the girl replied, with a look in her eyes as much as to say "You know he isn't." "Does he work at all?" Yes, when he is well enough. "What is his business?" "He is an undertaker." Ah, yes—yes—now I remember. And you lay that he is ill-has he been ill long?" "Not very long." "Oh, then, perhaps his illness dates from the day of Sir Robert Barclay's funeral?" he said, watching her face at the same time. The girl thought for a moment, and then it occurred to her that her father's illness had com- menced that day. "You are right," she said, sharply; "what made you think that?" "Oh! only because some people were so attached to the Barclays that the dramatic death of the two might have upset all those who knew them. Still, that is by the way. And your mother? Couldn't she look after him instead of allowing you to be late?" "I have no mother," Grace replied. CI Ah-that is unfortunate; has she been dead long?" "I never remember her." These remarks satisfied Blake that he was on the right road, and he changed the, subject. "You have rather interested me, Miss Rookston," he said. "I think it is very possible that you might have an advancing position in the firm. I always like to feel that I have one or two people in every branch of the business from whom I can expect absolute confidence. Now I am just going to put you to the test a little bit. There is a young fellow belonging to the works who is very popular with the men, probably because he sides with all their unjustified grievances. I want you to tell me something about him. His name is Stephen Bond, I believe." The sarcasm of his tone as he mentioned the name brought the flashing eyes of the girl upon him, and the colour rose to her cheeks. "What you wish to know of Stephen Bond you can learn from him—he keeps nothing in the background.It "It might not be well for Stephen Bond' if I heard all that he knows about himself," the manager said, meaningly. "I would prefer that you told me the exact position in which he stands with the men, as to whether he is strong and influential." "I am here,1- the girl replied, "to answer as to why I was late this morning. I am in this build- ing to do my duty so far as the Mill is concerned. I am not here to answer for the actions of Stephen Bond, or anyone else." It was the first time Herbert Blake had been openly defied, and for that to be at the hands of a. girl was more than even his imperturbable spirit could stand. I You mustn't attempt to defy me," he said, "as his brows knitted together. I will make you speak." "You will never do that," she cried, drawing herself to her full height. "My father has never attempted to coerce me." "Your father," he laughed sarcastically. "He 18 «T*1C0 reprobate to hold up as a model." If you mean to cast any slur upon my father's head," Grace broke in, "if you have evil words to say of him, I can only tell you that you are a liar." Herbert Blake was now white with passion. "You shall suffer for this. You refuse to bend to my will. I will make you. I won't discharge you, although 1 could send you out into the world for your insolence. You shall stop here, and, mark my words, the day will come when vo'u will bend to my will." 9 "You have used your threats as far as you dare go," Grace said, between almost clenched teeth, when she had sufficiently recovered herself to speak. "In the rooms which I have just left are 2,000 people. If you looked in there now you would find that work has been suspended—they are waiting for my return. Had you laid a finger upon me, or treated me in any way unjustly, those 2,000 people would have struck work to-day." "And what are you going to tell them when you go back?" he said. For a moment Grace hesitated, then she tossed her head back proudly. "I shall tell them that the interview with our manager has been completely satisfactory. That he had endeavoured to extract information from me under threats, but at the end he hadi to yield and confess himself beaten." Had the girl's existence not been so necessary for the furtherance of Henry Blake's plans, the sudden frenzy which had seized him might have almost prompted him to kill her; but, with the wonderful mastery which he had over himself he quickly controlled his emotions. "Miss Rookston," he said, "provided that neither of our careers come to an untimely end, we shall often meet again. At one of those meetings you will cringe before me. Then I shall lay down such terms to you as to convince yoa that Herbert Blake is a man of his word, and that when he says he can crush a person's will he means what he says." And then he showed her out of the room. There was a dead silence as the girl stepped into the great work-room, and all eyes were turned upon her. She took the place where she stood day after day, and in answer to the inquiring look in her comrades' eyes, she did as she had told Herbert Blake she would. "My interview with our manager has been completely satisfactory," she said, firmly. "He endeavoured to extract information from me under threats, but at the end he had to yield and confess himself beaten." And the next moment the roaring sound of machinery almost deadened the murmur of satisfaction which greeted her ears. (To be continued.)

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