pered Philpot, after a pause. 'Give the boy a
hempty bottle and let 'im go to the gate and look to the bikes there.
If Misery sees him 'e can pretend to be goin' to the shop for some
hoil.'

This was done. Bert went to the gate and returned almost immediately:
the bike was gone. As the good news spread through the house a chorus
of thanksgiving burst forth.

'Thank Gord!' said one.

'Hope the b--r falls orf and breaks 'is bloody neck,' said another.

'These Bible-thumpers are all the same; no one ever knew one to be any
good yet,' cried a third.

Directly they knew for certain that he was gone, nearly everyone left
off work for a few minutes to curse him. Then they again went on
working and now that they were relieved of the embarrassment that
Misery's presence inspired, they made better progress. A few of them
lit their pipes and smoked as they worked.

One of these was old Jack Linden. He was upset by the bullying he had
received, and when he noticed some of the others smoking he thought he
would have a pipe; it might steady his nerves. As a rule he did not
smoke when working; it was contrary to orders.

As Philpot was returning to work again he paused for a moment to
whisper to Linden, with the result that the latter accompanied him
upstairs.

On reaching Philpot's room the latter placed the step-ladder near the
cupboard and, taking down the bottle of beer, handed it to Linden with
the remark, 'Get some of that acrost yer, matey; it'll put yer right.'

While Linden was taking a hasty drink, Joe kept watch on the landing
outside in case Hunter should suddenly and unexpectedly reappear.

When Linden was gone downstairs again, Philpot, having finished what
remained of the beer and hidden the bottle up the chimney, resumed the
work of stopping up the holes and cracks in the ceiling and walls. He
must make a bit of a show tonight or there would be a hell of a row
when Misery came in the morning.

Owen worked on in a disheartened, sullen way. He felt like a beaten
dog.

He was more indignant on poor old Linden's account than on his own, and
was oppressed by a sense of impotence and shameful degradation.

All his life it had been the same: incessant work under similar more or
less humiliating conditions, and with no more result than being just
able to avoid starvation.

And the future, as far as he could see, was as hopeless as the past;
darker, for there would surely come a time, if he lived lon