“I should think not—­nor any other wise chap wouldn’t trust him.  He’s a bad lot.  He only believes in machines, not humans.”

The boy began to be receptive.

“He wants to be friends, but I won’t be his friend, because I hate him.  Only I don’t tell mother, because she don’t hate him so much as me.”

“More fool her, then.  She ought to hate him.  She’s got first cause.  Do you know who ought to own these works when your father dies?”

“No, Mister Baggs.”

“You.  Yes, they did ought to belong to you in justice, because you are his eldest son.  Everything ought to be yours, if the world were run by right and fairness and honour.  But it’s all took from you and you can’t lift a finger to better yourself, because you’re only his natural son, and Nature may go to hell every time for all the Law and the Church care.  Church and Law both hate Nature.  So that’s why I say you’re an unlucky boy; and that’s why I say that, despite your father’s money and fame and being popular and well thought on and all that, he’s a cruel rogue.”

Abel was puzzled but interested.

“If I’m his boy, why ain’t my mother his wife, like all the other chaps’ fathers have got wives?”

“Why ain’t your mother his wife?  Yes, why?  After ten years he’ll find that question as hard to answer as it was before you were born, I reckon.  And the answer to the question is the same as the answer to many questions about Raymond Ironsyde.  And that is, that he is a crooked man who pretends to be a straight one; in a word, a hypocrite.  And you’ll grow up to understand these things and see what should be yours taken from you and given to other people.”

“When I grow up, I’ll have it out with him,” said Abel.

“No, you won’t.  Because he’s strong and you’re weak.  You’re weak and poor and nobody, with no father to fight for you and give you a show in the world.  And you’ll always be the same, so you’ll never stand any chance against him.”

The boy flushed and showed anger.

“I won’t be weak and poor always.”

“Against him you will.  Suppose you went so far as to let him befriend you, could he ever make up for not marrying your mother?  Can he ever make you anything but a bastard and an outcast?  No, he can’t; and he only wants to educate you and give you a bit of money and decent clothes for the sake of his own conscience.  He’ll come to you hat in hand some day—­not because he cares a damn for you, but that he may stand well in the eyes of the world.”

Abel now panted with anger, and Mr. Baggs was mildly amused to see how easily the child could be played upon.

“I’ll grow up and then—­”

“Don’t you worry.  You must take life as you find it, and as you haven’t found it a very kind thing, you must put up with it.  Most people draw blanks, and that’s why it’s better to stop out of the world than in it.  And if we could see into the bottom of every heart, we should very likely find that all draw blanks, and even what looks like prizes are not.”