The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
had utilised as a paint shop. Crass was there, mixing some colour.
'I want a bit of stopping,' Philpot said as he helped himself to some.
'Is the swine gorn?' whispered Crass.
'I don't know,' replied Philpot. 'Where's his bike?'
''E always leaves it outside the gate, so's we can't see it,' replied Crass.
'Tell you what,' whispered Philpot, after a pause. 'Give the boy a hempty bottle and let 'im go to the gate and look if the bike's 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 immediately: the bike was gone.
As the good news spread through the house a chorus of thanksgiving burst forth.
'Thank Gord!' said one.
'Hope he 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.
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