and I don't think they'd go. But we might try
to get those two to see that anything the poor devils of laborers do is
bound to recoil on themselves, fourfold. I suppose," he added, with
sudden malice, "a laborers' rising would have no chance?"

Neither John nor Stanley winced.

"Rising? Why should they rise?"

"They did in '32."

"In '32!" repeated John. "Agriculture had its importance then. Now it
has none. Besides, they've no cohesion, no power, like the miners or
railway men. Rising? No chance, no earthly! Weight of metal's dead
against it."

Felix smiled.

"Money and guns! Guns and money! Confess with me, brethren, that we're
glad of metal."

John stared and Stanley drank off his whiskey and potash. Felix really
was a bit 'too thick' sometimes. Then Stanley said:

"Wonder what Tod thinks of it all. Will you go over, Felix, and advise
that our young friends be more considerate to these poor beggars?"

Felix nodded. And with 'Good night, old man' all round, and no shaking
of the hands, the three brothers dispersed.

But behind Felix, as he opened his bedroom door, a voice whispered:

"Dad!" And there, in the doorway of the adjoining room, was Nedda in her
dressing-gown.

"Do come in for a minute. I've been waiting up. You ARE late."

Felix followed her into her room. The pleasure he would once have had in
this midnight conspiracy was superseded now, and he stood blinking at her
gravely. In that blue gown, with her dark hair falling on its lace
collar and her face so round and childish, she seemed more than ever to
have defrauded him. Hooking her arm in his, she drew him to the window;
and Felix thought: 'She just wants to talk to me about Derek. Dog in the
manger that I am! Here goes to be decent!' So he said:

"Well, my dear?"

Nedda pressed his hand with a little coaxing squeeze.

"Daddy, darling, I do love you!"

And, though Felix knew that she had grasped what he was feeling, a sort
of warmth spread in him. She had begun counting his fingers with one of
her own, sitting close beside him. The warmth in Felix deepened, but he
thought: 'She must want a good deal out of me!' Then she began:

"Why did we come down again? I know there's something wrong! It's hard
not to know, when you're anxious." And she sighed. That little sigh
affected Felix.

"I'd always rather know the truth, Dad. Aunt Clara said something about
a fire at the Mallorings'."

Felix stole a look