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Updated: May 31, 2025
At the dinner-table Mr Clayhanger had only vouchsafed that he had a train to catch, and would probably not be in till late at night. The next moment he glimpsed Darius through the window, his arms motionless by his sides and sticking slightly out; hurrying in the sunshine along Wedgwood Street in the direction of Shawport station. So this was business!
"You can come back on Saturday," she said; "so that you'll be in time to collect your rents. There's an express to Glasgow from Crewe at 1.15, and to catch that we must take the 12.20 at Shawport." She had settled every detail. "And what about my dinner?" he inquired. "I'm going to set about it instantly," laughed she. "I mean my dinner on Friday?" he said. "Oh, that!" she replied.
"It's a dreadful thing." "I should thing it was!" Hilda agreed fervently. "Oh! Do you know, on the way from Shawport, I saw a procession of the men, and anything more terrible " "It's the children I think of!" said Mrs. Orgreave softly. "Pity the men don't!" Mr. Orgreave murmured, without raising his head. "Don't what?" Hilda asked defiantly. "Think of the children."
In five minutes he was drawing cheques, and simultaneously planning how to get over the disappearance of the old private ledger in case Twemlow should after all, at some future date, ask to see original documents. 'What a chance! The thought ran round and round in his brain. As he left the works by the canal side, he paused under Shawport Bridge and furtively dropped the revolver into the water.
I walked with eyes downcast into the station. I had determined to take the train from Knype to Shawport, a distance of three miles, and then to walk up the hill from Shawport through Oldcastle Street to Bursley. I hoped that by such a route at such an hour, I should be unlikely to meet acquaintances, of whom, in any case, I had few.
Mayer, the manager, and everybody on the bank, learned that Fred, with old Myatt at his back, was in sole control of the works at Shawport; creditors breathed with relief; and the whole of Bursley remembered that it had always prophesied that Fred's sterling qualities were bound to succeed.
"Can we go and see the saggers now?" he suggested. Edwin might have taken him to the manufactory in which Albert Benbow was a partner, but he preferred not to display to the father of Clara's offspring his avuncular patronage of George Cannon, and he chose the works of a customer down at Shawport for whom he was printing a somewhat ambitious catalogue.
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