shouted so loud that his voice filled all the house. Everyone
heard and was afraid. Who would be the next? they thought.

Finding that Linden made no further answer, Misery again began walking
about the house.

As he looked at them the men did their work in a nervous, clumsy, hasty
sort of way. They made all sorts of mistakes and messes. Payne, the
foreman carpenter, was putting some new boards on a part of the
drawing-room floor: he was in such a state of panic that, while driving
a nail, he accidentally struck the thumb of his left hand a severe blow
with his hammer. Bundy was also working in the drawing-room putting
some white-glazed tiles in the fireplace. Whilst cutting one of these
in half in order to fit it into its place, he inflicted a deep gash on
one of his fingers. He was afraid to leave off to bind it up while
Hunter was there, and consequently as he worked the white tiles became
all smeared and spattered with blood. Easton, who was working with
Harlow on a plank, washing off the old distemper from the hall ceiling,
was so upset that he was scarcely able to stand on the plank, and
presently the brush fell from his trembling hand with a crash upon the
floor.

Everyone was afraid. They knew that it was impossible to get a job for
any other firm. They knew that this man had the power to deprive them
of the means of earning a living; that he possessed the power to
deprive their children of bread.

Owen, listening to Hunter over the banisters upstairs, felt that he
would like to take him by the throat with one hand and smash his face
in with the other.

And then?

Why then he would be sent to gaol, or at the best he would lose his
employment: his food and that of his family would be taken away. That
was why he only ground his teeth and cursed and beat the wall with his
clenched fist. So! and so! and so!

If it were not for them!

Owen's imagination ran riot.

First he would seize him by the collar with his left hand, dig his
knuckles into his throat, force him up against the wall and then, with
his right fist, smash! smash! smash! until Hunter's face was all cut
and covered with blood.

But then, what about those at home? Was it not braver and more manly
to endure in silence?

Owen leaned against the wall, white-faced, panting and exhausted.

Downstairs, Misery was still going to and fro in the house and walking
up and down in it. Presently he stopped to look at Sawkins' work. This