say I shall tell. However, 'appen ow of the
biggest manufacturers in the town 'll have it."

"A big manufacturer wouldn't look at it," said Paul. "It's only fit
for a man in a small way of business."

Fletcher looked at him and laughed. "Good-morning," he said. "'Appen
I can go into it further to-morrow, but not now." And then he turned
on his heel and left Paul thinking.

Before the day was out Paul heard that young Edward Wilson, the son of
the man who had prosecuted him, had hired the shed for a warehouse,
although there seemed no reason at all why he should do so.

"This settles me," said Paul to Preston that night. "It's evident that
Wilson has got his knife into me, and he, hearing what you had in your
mind, determined to make it impossible. But, never mind," and Paul's
somewhat prominent jaws became rigid and stern. "I don't know that I
was so keen about manufacturing before, but I'd like to fight Wilson,
and he shall see that I'm not easily beaten. But we must go quiet,
Preston, and we'll have to be careful. There's not the slightest doubt
about it that Wilson thinks he owes me a grudge for what happened
nearly three years ago. But for that I shouldn't have had six months
at Strangeways. Still, I'm not a chicken, neither are you."

And then the two young men talked long and seriously concerning other
alternatives.

A week later the final step was taken, and Paul and Preston had signed
a contract to hire a larger weaving shed than they had intended, and
arrangements were pushed forward to start work immediately. Indeed,
Paul's mind was so filled with the project he had in hand that almost
everything else was forgotten. Two matters, however, must be
mentioned. The one was a letter from his mother, to whom he had
written, giving an account not only of his experiences in prison and of
his home-coming, but also of the venture that he was making. "If I
succeed, mother," he said, "you must come to Brunford to live. And I
mean to succeed. In twelve months from now I am going to be a
well-to-do man. I've learnt pretty much all there is to know about
manufacturing, and I've a good partner. And I mean to get on. But
don't think I've forgotten the real purpose for which I came to the
North. I have not found out much about my father yet, although I've
tried, tried hard. I can't understand it either. I've got hold of law
books containing lists of the names of the barristers in England, and
whil