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‘Yes； sir；' said Newman。
‘All right；' said Hunter； affably。 ‘I'll tell Crass to have a kit ready for you；'
He nodded in a friendly way to the man； who went off feeling like a criminal。
As Hunter resumed his march； well pleased with himself； the fifth man； who had been waiting all this time； came to meet him。 As he approached； Hunter recognized him as one who had started work for Rushton & Co early in the summer； but who had left suddenly of his own accord； having taken offence at some bullying remark of Hunter's。
Hunter was glad to see this man。 He guessed that the fellow must be very hard pressed to come again and ask for work after what had happened。
‘Any chance of a job； sir？'
Hunter appeared to reflect。
‘I believe I have room for one；' he said at length。 ‘But you're such an uncertain kind of chap。 You don't seem to care much whether you work or not。 You're too independent； you know； one can't say two words to you but you must needs clear off。'
The man made no answer。
‘We can't tolerate that kind of thing； you know；' Hunter added。 ‘If we were to encourage men of your stamp we should never know where we are。'
So saying； Hunter moved away and again proceeded on his journey。
When he arrived within about three yards of the gate he noiselessly laid his machine against the garden fence。 The high evergreens that grew inside still concealed him from the observation of anyone who might be looking out of the windows of the house。 Then he carefully crept along till he came to the gate post； and bending down； he cautiously peeped round to see if he could detect anyone idling； or talking； or smoking。 There was no one in sight except old Jack Linden； who was rubbing down the lobby doors with pumice…stone and water。 Hunter noiselessly opened the gate and crept quietly along the grass border of the garden path。 His idea was to reach the front door without being seen； so that Linden could not give notice of his approach to those within。 In this he succeeded and passed silently into the house。 He did not speak to Linden； to do so would have proclaimed his presence to the rest。 He crawled stealthily over the house but was disappointed in his quest； for everyone he saw was hard at work。 Upstairs he noticed that the door of one of the rooms was closed。
Old Joe Philpot had been working in this room all day； washing off the old whitewash from the ceiling and removing the old papers from the walls with a broad bladed； square topped knife called a stripper。 Although it was only a small room； Joe had had to tear into the work pretty hard all the time； for the ceiling seemed to have had two or three coats of whitewash without ever having been washed off； and there were several thicknesses of paper on the walls。 The difficulty of removing these papers was increased by the fact that there was a dado which had been varnished。 In order to get this off it had been necessary to soak it several times with strong soda water； and although Joe was as careful as possible he had not been able to avoid getting some of this stuff on his fingers。 The result was that his nails were all burnt and discoloured and the flesh round them cracked and bleeding。 However； he had got it all off at last； and he was not sorry； for his right arm and shoulder were aching from the prolonged strain and in the palm of the right hand there was a blister as large as a shilling； caused by the handle of the stripping knife。
All the old paper being off； Joe washed down the walls with water； and having swept the paper into a heap in the middle of the floor； he mixed with a small trowel some cement on a small board and proceeded to stop up the cracks and holes in the walls and ceiling。 After a while； feeling very tired； it occurred to him that he deserved a spell and a smoke for five minutes。 He closed the door and placed a pair of steps against it。 There were two windows in the room almost opposite each other； these he opened wide in order that the smoke and smell of his pipe might be carried away。 Having taken these precautions against surprise； he ascended to the top of the step ladder that he had laid against the door and sat down at ease。 Within easy reach was the top of a cupboard where he had concealed a pint of beer in a bottle。 To this he now applied himself。 Having taken a long pull at the bottle； he tenderly replaced it on the top of the cupboard and proceeded to ‘hinjoy' a quiet smoke； remarking to himself：
‘This is where we get some of our own back。'
He held； however； his trowel in one hand； ready for immediate action in case of interruption。
Philpot was about fifty…five years old。 He wore no white jacket； only an old patched apron； his trousers were old； very soiled with paint and ragged at the bottoms of the legs where they fell over the much…patched； broken and down…at…heel boots。 The part of his waistcoat not protected by his apron was covered with spots of dried paint。 He wore a coloured shirt and a ‘dickey' which was very soiled and covered with splashes of paint； and one side of it was projecting from the opening of the waistcoat。 His head was covered with an old cap； heavy and shining with paint。 He was very thin and stooped slightly。 Although he was really only fifty…five； he looked much older； for he was prematurely aged。
He had not been getting his own back for quite five minutes when Hunter softly turned the handle of the lock。 Philpot immediately put out his pipe and descending from his perch opened the door。 When Hunter entered Philpot closed it again and； mounting the steps； went on stripping the wall just above。 Nimrod looked at him suspiciously； wondering why the door had been closed。 He looked all round the room but could see nothing to complain of。 He sniffed the air to try if he could detect the odour of tobacco； and if he had not been suffering a cold in the head there is no doubt that he would have perceived it。 However； as it was he could smell nothing but all the same he was not quite satisfied； although he remembered that Crass always gave Philpot a good character。
‘I don't like to have men working on a job like this with the door shut；' he said at length。 ‘It always gives me the idear that the man's 'avin a mike。 You can do what you're doin' just as well with the door open。'
Philpot； muttering something about it being all the same to him … shut or open … got down from the steps and opened the door。 Hunter went out again without making any further remark and once more began crawling over the house。
Owen was working by himself in a room on the same floor as Philpot。 He was at the window； burning off with a paraffin torch…lamp those parts of the old paintwork that were blistered and cracked。
In this work the flame of the lamp is directed against the old paint； which becomes soft and is removed with a chisel knife； or a scraper called a shavehook。 The door was ajar and he had opened the top sash of the window for the purpose of letting in some fresh air； because the atmosphere of the room was foul with the fumes of the lamp and the smell of the burning paint； besides being heavy with moisture。 The ceiling had only just been water washed and the walls had