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He needed a minute to think. Besides,
he always brought in coal when he was there. In the shed, however,
he put down the scuttle and stood still.
"The old devil!" he muttered.
But his rage for Anna was followed by rage against her. Where was
she to-night? Did Graham Spencer know where she was? And if he
did, what then? Were they at that moment somewhere together?
Hidden away, the two of them? The conviction that they were
together grew on him, and with it a frenzy that was almost madness.
He left the coal scuttle in the shed, and went out into the air.
For a half hour he stood there, looking down toward the Spencer
furnace, sending up, now red, now violet bursts of flame.
He was angry enough, jealous enough. But he was quick, too, to see
that that particular lump of potters' clay which was Herman Klein
was ready for the wheel. Even while he was cursing the girl his
cunning mind was already plotting, revenge for the Spencers,
self-aggrandizement among his fellows for himself.


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