Almost a week had passed since Dawkin's disappearance. This was the first time that Eppie had been able to visit Rowan since the calamity.

Letting her in at the garden gate, Rowan led her towards metal chairs which she had placed in the shade of a spindle tree. Dandelion seeds drifted around them like snow. *Eppie, I'm so happy! I've been dying to tell you. On the night of the chimney fire, Mr Grimley told me that he is my grand-uncle. Jared, his brother, was the husband of the Bulwar's only daughter, Augusta. They had a daughter called Arabella. She came to bed of twins out of wedlock: Dawkin and I.'

Eppie almost collapsed in a swoon at the enlightenment. *Dawkin is your brother?'

*Our mother died in childbirth. Squire Bulwar hated our father. After we were born, he had him thrown into jail. My father was an honourable man. He and some other prisoners were making a turnpike road when he rescued a girl from stampeding cattle.'

*Sam Scattergood!'

*How could you possibly know his name?'

*It was because of me that Sam died. I was the child.'

Seeing Eppie's torment reflected in her eyes, Rowan reached out for her hand and comforted her. *Do not distress yourself. My father lives still.

*When my grand-uncle attended what he thought was my father's funeral, he told Uncle Lewis that Sam had children who still lived. He said he had become a guardian of the poorhouse so that, unbeknown to Squire Bulwar, he could keep an eye on us - although, of course, both Dawkin and I were sent away to work and our grand-uncle had to track us down. Lewis confided to my grand-uncle that my father was hiding out on their remote farm. The coffin contained the body of a diseased calf.

*After Mr Grimley learnt about Squire Bulwar's death last week, we paid a visit to my father. We later journeyed to Garn Hall to offer our condolences to my great-grandmother. I found Mrs Bulwar rather intimidating, although her heart is in the right place. She said that she never agreed with her husband sending Dawkin and I to the poorhouse. The perfect thing is that now, if Gabriel asks me to marry him, I can accept. He won't be ashamed of me.'

*Of course!' Eppie said. *This is the most agreeable news!'

*The only anxiety is about my brother. What do you think can have become of him?'

*When he was speaking at the tavern he said how much he hated Squire Bulwar. I see now that he must have been thinking about the hardships inflicted on you and him.'

*Priscilla overheard Dawkin telling you where he was lodging. That evening, my grand-uncle sent Loafer to request Dawkin to call on us.'

*Dawkin was here, on the night of the murder? There's no way he can be accused of the crime!'

*After our grand-uncle told Dawkin we were Squire Bulwar's great-grandchildren he was distressed. He dashed away before we had finished supper.'

Eppie was chilled to the bone. *Dawkin had time to kill his great-grandfather. But if he had, why had he allowed himself to be so easily provoked to an outburst of anger against Squire Bulwar at the tavern?'

*Uncle wishes he had not told Dawkin and I about the circumstances of our upbringing when he did, then we wouldn't have this worry, wondering if my brother had anything to do with the murders.'

Colonel Cudbert Catesby had investigated the deaths of the climbing-boys. When Brodie, the remaining climbing-boy was brought before him, his condemning words were: *Dawkin murdered my friends.'

Eppie desperately needed to speak to Brodie. Why had he not been with the other boys at Dawkin's lodgings? Had someone, the real murderer, coerced him to fabricate the events of that fateful night? Though she had sought the boy out, he was nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE.

CRUSADE FOR THE POOR.

Thurstan strode into the mill office. *Uncle, I have a pressing matter to set before you.'

Panic swept through Mr Grimley. He felt sure that this was the moment of doom.

Thurstan smiled vindictively at the mill manager, delighted with the terror he was imparting to the man.

Du Quesne was engrossed in paperwork. *Can it not wait? We are swamped with orders.'

There was a deathly silence as the machines came to a standstill.

*What the deuce is wrong with that engine now? Someone go into town and drag Redgy Dipper from his sickbed. He'll know how to repair it. That's the second time it has broken down this month.'

*I would imagine it has something to do with the protest that Dung Heap's sister is organising,' Thurstan said.

*Protest? What protest?'

*Nihil agendo homines male agree discunt.'

*Do not annoy me with your supercilious diction.'

*I was reflecting that you do not drive your workers hard enough. The devil finds mischief for idle hands.'

*I can do without you interfering, telling me what I do or do not do.'

*Temper, temper.'

The engine-maker, a short, grey-faced man, bowed deferentially in the doorway. *Sir, I have turned off your power.'

*That did not fail to come to my attention,' du Quesne said. *Might I be enlightened as to the reason?'

*I find myself confronted with a serious financial problem.'

*You may well be, Mr Blower. However, that is no excuse to meddle with my business.' Of his nephew, du Quesne demanded, *When did you learn of this protest?'

Thurstan took a sadistic pleasure in rousing his uncle to fever pitch. He cast him a wry smile. *Days, if not years ago.'

*You might have thought to have informed me earlier.'

*It slipped my mind.'

Du Quesne glared at Wilbert, who had trailed Mr Blower. *Why are you dithering, man? Get that engine running.'

*Before you ...' Thurstan began.

*What now?' du Quesne barked.

*I thought you might like to know that Wakelin Dunham is the instigator of a plot to wreck your mill.'

*He's what!'

*And there was something else. What was it? Some matter of slight significance. Ah, yes, he plans to murder you.'

*Murder me!'

*I presume you would like me to send one of my men to the knacker's yard to deal with him?'

Teeth gritted, du Quesne thumped the desk. *Hell and damnation!'

*I take that as a yes.' Thurstan strolled off. *Grim, that matter about the fines. I will speak to my uncle upon my return.'

*What matter?' du Quesne asked irascibly.

*About this money,' Mr Blower said. *What you gave me wasn't right, sir. Mr Howard, the banker, has asked that I deal directly with you about the problem. I'm sure there's been some mistake, so I suggest we go somewhere private to talk about it.'

*You may have time to waste, Mr Blower. I have an uprising to crush. Good day to you.' Du Quesne left the office and strode towards the line of workers.

Tramping steadily past the silent machines, the mill children carried a banner emblazoned with a red cross, proclaiming Christ as their leader. Behind them trod sacked men and their working wives.

Seeing the furious expression on du Quesne's face, Eppie, at the fore of the crusade, experienced a moment of doubt.

Crumpton raised his cudgel. *I'll put a stop to this.'

*Let her speak,' du Quesne said, knowing he would win any argument. *The animosity between Eppie Dunham and my good self goes back many years. I find myself intrigued to hear what she has to say on this occasion.'

*For my part, sir, I feel no enmity toward you,' Eppie said. *What I do feel strongly is the lack of justice you show towards those weaker than yourself.'

*Is that so? Might I enquire what you hope to gain by your audacious behaviour?'

*My foremost anxiety is for the children, sir. I request that safety improvements are made throughout the mill. The machines must be fitted with guards.'

*Request denied. The machines constantly break down and need to be readily accessible to be quickly repaired.'

*Children should no longer be forced to clean under the machines whilst they are in motion.'

*Out of the question. Anything else?'

Realising that she was in for a tough battle with her father, she turned her attention to the overseer. *Mr Crumpton must no longer beat the children.' This request was greeted with whoops of jubilation from the girls and boys. *Beating with the strap, trying to drive sleepiness off with blows, these are no means by which to encourage the young to work.'

She was aware of Mr Grimley, who stood slightly to the rear of du Quesne, nodding his agreement.

Du Quesne was unmoved. *Dread of punishment is the only way to force children to work the hours I demand.'

*Can you not see that the children need to work fewer hours? They scarce have time to sleep and eat, none for physical exercise in the open air or for the pure enjoyment of nature.'

*I cannot afford to run my mill only when children feel like working. There is, moreover, value in hard work. Hard work is good for young people.'

Thurstan returned.

*Here is something to amuse you,' du Quesne said. *Though I can scarcely claim to be enraptured by her discourse, never have I had the privilege of dealing with such an amusing firebrand. The misguided fool maintains that life at this mill should be a paradise on earth.'

Rowan crept to Mr Grimley's side.

*Ah, Miss Grimley,' Thurstan said, *you have arrived at a timely moment. You will have the opportunity to marvel at Dunham's histrionics.'

*Let me assure you, sir,' Eppie answered, *the motive behind my action is entirely sincere.'

*Have you any further faults you wish to air?' du Quesne asked. *I have much to do today.'

*Yes, sir, I have. Work at the mill is unmeaning for the children. It is no field for mental activity. Only through Sunday school can I encourage the children's learning, though I am in desperate need of resources. I have few books and the sand-table is an unsatisfactory means of teaching them their letters.'

*As I recall, Parson Lowford exercised your brain at the vestry school and such activity has only served to enhance your natural ability as a nauseating troublemaker. Request rejected.'

Though it appeared impossible for her to achieve her objectives, she fought on. Now was the moment to voice the toughest demand. *You must re-employ the men, and the women must be paid wages upon which they can live.'

At this, there were shouts of concord from Hedley and the other sacked workers.

*That I will never do. You women and children, back to work.'

*Sir, have you considered the implications of casting out the men?' Eppie went on rapidly. *By your action you drive many of them to stealing. If they are moral men they and their families may starve. If not, they may commit suicide. None of these acts are chosen by the poor. They are pressed upon them by you.'

*I will have an end to this foolish outcry. I treat my workers fairly, that is all they must expect. For your insolence and temerity, young woman, consider your employment in my establishment terminated. Join your friends on the street. Steal, starve, commit suicide, I care not which.'

Now she had nothing to lose. *It is utter hogwash to say that you treat the workers fairly. When have you ever shown fairness and kindness to us? You think of mill workers simply as wooden limbs to the machines, not as people, flesh and blood like yourself. You know the fly is injurious to the workers' health, yet where are the vents to extract the bad air? By obstinately refusing to improve working conditions you hasten the poor to early graves.'

*Hasten? What are you suggesting?'

*I suggest nothing. I state the facts. The workers cannot defend themselves. Eibhlin and Coline O'Ruarc did not suffer natural deaths. Their lives were cut short by you, for it was as though your sword cut through their hearts.'

*I am your natural superior. How dare you have the audacity to imply that I am a murderer? Crumpton, drive them back to work.'

Eppie was overcome with a rage which she knew not how to curb. *Having to endure years of bullying has made these people like frightened animals. They believe they are weak, that they deserve the rough life they lead. I tell you they do not. You condemn me for calling you a murderer. Why are you so blind that you cannot see that by your cold-hearted treatment of the workers it as though you are their murderer? By your very hand you are a killer, for you shot my father.'

Eppie's words offered the very opportunity for which Sukey had been waiting, a chance to get her revenge on her childhood adversary. *That weaver weren't no more your pa than mine's King George o' England. For well *ee knows that yer pa stands afore ya.'

*Why would you suggest such a preposterous notion?' du Quesne demanded.

*I overheard Dunham telling Miss Rowan that Wakelin Dunham stuck his ma's dead baby in her ladyship's cradle and stole *er.' She jabbed a finger towards Eppie. *Genevieve du Quesne.'

Like moths around a candle, the workers drew close, listening in awe.

Eppie glanced round at Martha and Lottie, thankful that they were at the end of the line of workers. She had to protect their lives at all costs.

Rowan stepped to Eppie's side to offer her moral support.

Casting Rowan a quizzical look, Thurstan saw from her steady gaze and dignified demeanour that she knew Sukey's outburst to be true.

*Shiz nicked Mistress Talia's locket an' all, has Dunham,' Sukey added.

Involuntarily, Eppie raised her hand to her neck. Seeing this slight movement, Thurstan rushed at her. Though she tried to fight him off, it was to no avail. Slipping his fingers beneath the delicate chain, where the locket hung under her bodice, he wrenched it free. *I will see you hang for this, Dunham!'