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Titanium Dioxide (TiO2) and Its
Applications
The Metal Oxides Series Edited by Ghenadii Korotcenkov

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Metal Oxides Series

Titanium Dioxide (TiO2)

and Its Applications

Edited by

Francesco Parrino
Department of Industrial Engineering,
University of Trento, Trento, Italy

Leonardo Palmisano
“Schiavello-Grillone” Photocatalysis Group,
Department of Engineering, University of
Palermo, Palermo, Italy

Series Editor

Ghenadii Korotcenkov
Department of Theoretical Physics,
Moldova State University, Chisinau, Moldova
Elsevier
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The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford OX5 1GB, United Kingdom
50 Hampshire Street, 5th Floor, Cambridge, MA 02139, United States
Copyright © 2021 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
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electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and
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Licensing Agency, can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/permissions.
This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by
the Publisher (other than as may be noted herein).
Notices
Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and
experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices,
or medical treatment may become necessary.
Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in
evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described
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To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or
editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter
of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods,
products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress
ISBN: 978-0-12-819960-2

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visit our website at https://www.elsevier.com/books-and-journals

Publisher: Matthew Dean

Acquisitions Editor: Kayla Dos Santos
Editorial Project Manager: Chiara Giglio
Production Project Manager: Vignesh Tamil
Cover Designer: Miles Hitchen
Typeset by MPS Limited, Chennai, India
Contents

List of contributors xv
About the series editor xix
About the editors xxi
Preface to the series xxiii
Preface to the volume xxvii

Section 1 Titanium dioxide: synthesis and

characterization 1
1 Introduction 3
Francesco Parrino and Leonardo Palmisano
1.1 Economic aspects 3
1.2 Summary of the book 6
References 11

2 Properties of titanium dioxide 13

Francesco Parrino, Francesca Rita Pomilla, Giovanni Camera-Roda,
Vittorio Loddo and Leonardo Palmisano
2.1 Introduction 13
2.2 Structural properties 14
2.2.1 Structures of TiO2 14
2.2.2 Main techniques used for TiO2 structural analysis 16
2.3 Structure and defects 18
2.3.1 Defectivity 19
2.3.2 Surface defectivity 22
2.3.3 Surface and lattice distortion 26
2.4 TiO2 morphologies 26
2.5 Thermodynamic properties 29
2.6 Electronic properties 32
2.7 Electrical properties 33
2.8 Optical properties 35
2.9 Photon-induced behavior 39
2.10 Mechanical and rheological properties 42
2.10.1 Mechanical properties 42
2.10.2 Rheological properties 46
References 46
vi Contents

3 Structural and electronic properties of TiO2 from first principles

calculations 67
Sergio Tosoni, Giovanni Di Liberto and Gianfranco Pacchioni
3.1 Introduction 67
3.2 Electronic structure calculations on TiO2: methodological aspects 68
3.2.1 The bandgap issue 68
3.2.2 Excess electrons (and holes) in TiO2: the localization
problem 70
3.2.3 Oxygen vacancies 72
3.2.4 Interstitial Ti species 74
3.2.5 Photoexcited carriers 75
3.3 Titania heterojunctions and nanoparticles: computational
modeling of cutting-edge materials 76
3.3.1 Separation of photoexcited charge carriers in titania
nanocomposites 76
3.3.2 Computational modeling of titania nanoparticles 78
3.4 Conclusions 81
Acknowledgments 81
References 81
4 Synthesis and characterization of titanium dioxide and titanium
dioxide based materials 87
Marianna Bellardita, Sedat Yurdakal and Leonardo Palmisano
4.1 Introduction 87
4.2 Preparation methods 88
4.2.1 Preparation methods of powdered TiO2-based materials 88
4.2.2 Preparation methods of TiO2 film 104
4.3 Characterization techniques of TiO2 109
4.3.1 X-ray diffraction 109
4.3.2 Scanning electron microscopy 115
4.3.3 Transmission electron microscopy 121
4.3.4 Brunauer Emmett Teller-specific surface area
determination 127
4.3.5 Diffuse reflectance spectroscopy 135
4.3.6 Photoluminescence spectroscopy 141
4.3.7 X-ray photoelectron spectroscopy 144
4.3.8 Thermal gravimetric analysis 147
References 152

Section 2 Energy applications 167

5 Synthetic, natural and bioinspired dyes as TiO2 sensitizers
in sustainable solar cells 169
Nunzio Genitori and Gaetano Di Marco
5.1 Introduction 169
Contents vii

5.1.1 Photovoltaic technology 169

5.1.2 Dye-sensitized solar cells 171
5.2 Semiconductors 176
5.2.1 Bands formation 176
5.2.2 The occupation of the orbitals 176
5.2.3 Titanium dioxide 177
5.3 Dyes 180
5.3.1 Synthetic dyes 180
5.3.2 Natural dyes 182
5.3.3 Computational details 189
5.3.4 Bioinspired 191
5.4 Other functional materials 191
5.4.1 Characteristics and performance of CEs 191
5.4.2 Characteristics and performance of electrolytes 192
5.5 Assembly and characterizations for DSSCs 193
5.5.1 Development of photoanodes and cathodes 193
5.5.2 Spectroscopic techniques 193
5.5.3 Cyclic voltammetry 194
5.5.4 Roughness and desorption factor 196
5.5.5 Characteristic I-V curves 197
5.5.6 Quantum efficiency: IPCE, APCE, and LHE 201
5.5.7 Electrochemical impedance spectroscopy 203
5.5.8 Tafel electroanalysis 204
5.6 Conclusions 206
References 207

6 TiO2-based materials for photocatalytic hydrogen production 211

Maria Vittoria Dozzi and Elena Selli
6.1 Introduction 211
6.2 Photocatalytic water splitting with TiO2 212
6.3 Development of sensitive TiO2-based photocatalysts for H2
generation 214
6.3.1 Bandgap engineering 214
6.3.2 Surface TiO2 sensitization 217
6.4 Separation of photogenerated charges in TiO2-based
photocatalysts for H2 generation 218
6.4.1 Charge separation in TiO2 phase junctions 218
6.4.2 Charge separation in shape-controlled anatase TiO2 218
6.4.3 Noble metal nanoparticles deposition and Schottky
junction fabrication 220
6.4.4 Fabrication of heterojunctions 222
6.4.5 Loading cocatalysts on TiO2 225
6.5 Sacrificial agents in photocatalytic hydrogen production:
from overall water splitting to biomass reforming 228
6.6 Conclusion and perspectives 230
References 230
viii Contents

7 TiO2-based devices for energy-related applications 241

C.G. Jothi Prakash and R. Prasanth
7.1 Introduction 241
7.1.1 Titanium dioxide for energy harvesting 242
7.1.2 Titanium dioxide for energy storage 242
7.2 Energy storage applications 243
7.2.1 Supercapacitors 243
7.2.2 Batteries 250
7.2.3 Hydrogen production and storage 254
7.2.4 Others 258
7.3 Conclusion and outlook 260
References 260

8 Heat transfer by using TiO2 nanofluids 267

Vittorio Loddo and Giovanni Camera Roda
List of abbreviations 267
8.1 Introduction 267
8.2 Preparation and characterization of TiO2 nanofluids 270
8.2.1 Nanoparticles preparation 270
8.2.2 Preparation of nanofluids 272
8.2.3 Parameters influencing the aggregation and stability
of TiO2 nanofluids 274
8.2.4 Nanoparticle size measurements 274
8.2.5 Z-potential measurements 275
8.2.6 pH measurements 275
8.3 Heat conduction in TiO2 nanofluids 276
8.3.1 Influence of particle load 278
8.3.2 Influence of temperature 278
8.3.3 Influence of thermal conductivity of the base fluid 279
8.3.4 Influence of particle cluster size and shape on thermal
conductivity 279
8.3.5 Influence of surfactant 285
8.3.6 Influence of ultrasonic treatment 285
8.4 Heat convection in TiO2 nanofluids 285
8.4.1 Forced convection 287
8.4.2 Natural convection 293
8.5 Boiling heat transfer of TiO2 nanofluids 295
8.5.1 Influence of nanoparticle type 296
8.5.2 Influence of particle loading 296
8.5.3 Influence of surface roughness 297
8.5.4 Influence of the heater material 298
8.5.5 Influence of ionic additive 298
8.6 Applications of TiO2 nanofluids 298
8.7 Future investigations 299
References 300
Contents ix

Section 3 TiO2 in our life 309

9 TiO2 as white pigment and valorization of the waste coming
from its production 311
Manuel Jesús Gázquez, Silvia Marı´a Pe´rez Moreno
and Juan Pedro Bolı´var
9.1 Introduction 311
9.1.1 Titanium minerals 312
9.1.2 Titanium ore purification 313
9.2 Routes for the manufacture of titanium dioxide
pigments (Pigment White 6) 315
9.2.1 The chloride process 315
9.2.2 Sulfate process 317
9.3 Properties and applications of Pigment White 6 319
9.3.1 Properties 319
9.3.2 Applications 321
9.4 Valorization of coproducts and wastes generated 327
9.4.1 Main wastes generated in the sulfate process 328
9.4.2 Main wastes generated in the chloride process 329
References 330
10 Titanium dioxide based nanomaterials: application of their
smart properties in biomedicine 337
Giada Graziana Genchi
10.1 Introduction 337
10.2 Smart properties of titanium dioxide based nanomaterials 338
10.2.1 Advanced photodynamic therapy approached based
on hybrid titanium dioxide based nanomaterials 339
10.2.2 Advanced sonodynamic therapy approached based
on hybrid titanium dioxide based nanomaterials 342
10.3 Tissue engineering 343
10.4 Drug delivery 345
10.5 Other applications 349
10.6 Conclusion and perspectives 350
References 351
11 TiO2 in the food industry and cosmetics 353
Annachiara Berardinelli and Filippo Parisi
11.1 Introduction 353
11.2 Titanium dioxide as food additive 354
11.2.1 Titanium dioxide in food 354
11.2.2 Influence of titanium dioxide on human health 355
11.3 Titanium dioxide for food preservation 357
11.3.1 Antibacterial effects 357
11.3.2 Ethylene degradation 360
11.3.3 Active packaging 361
x Contents

11.4 Titanium dioxide in cosmetics and personal care products 362

11.4.1 Regulations 364
11.4.2 Safety of sunscreens 364
11.5 Conclusion 365
References 366

12 Titanium dioxide: antimicrobial surfaces and toxicity assessment 373

Valeria De Matteis, Mariafrancesca Cascione and Rosaria Rinaldi
12.1 Introduction 373
12.2 Antibacterial and antimicotic properties 375
12.2.1 Adverse effect of TiO2 on bacteria 375
12.2.2 Adverse effects of TiO2 on fungi 378
12.3 Toxicity assessment on TiO2 NPs 378
12.3.1 Regulations 378
12.3.2 Exposure route and biodistrubution 379
12.4 Antimicrobial surfaces 383
12.5 Conclusion 386
Conflicts of interest 386
Acknowledgments 386
References 386

13 Functionalization of glass by TiO2-based self-cleaning coatings 395

Corrado Garlisi, Gabriele Scandura, Ahmed Yusuf
and Samar Al Jitan
13.1 Introduction 395
13.2 Main principle behind self-cleaning behavior 396
13.3 Applications of self-cleaning glass and main
commercial products 402
13.3.1 Commercial self-cleaning glasses 405
13.4 Doped TiO2 based coatings for improved self-cleaning ability 408
13.4.1 Mechanism of doped-TiO2 coatings for glass 408
13.4.2 Synthesis strategies 412
13.5 Future tendencies: multilayer coatings for multifunctional glass 414
13.5.1 Multilayer structures for improved self-cleaning and
antireflective ability 414
13.5.2 Self-cleaning and energy-saving multilayer structures 417
13.6 Conclusion 420
References 421

14 TiO2 as a source of titanium 429

Xingli Zou, Zhongya Pang, Li Ji and Xionggang Lu
14.1 TiO2 production from titanium minerals 429
14.1.1 Production of titanium-rich slag from titanium minerals 429
14.1.2 Production of TiO2 from titanium-rich slag 431
14.2 The Kroll process from TiO2 to Ti 433
Contents xi

14.3 Electrolytic production of Ti from TiO2 in high-temperature

molten salts 438
14.4 Electrodeposition of Ti in low-temperature liquid salts 445
Acknowledgments 446
References 447

15 TiO2 in the building sector 449

Elisa Franzoni, Maria Chiara Bignozzi and Elisa Rambaldi
15.1 Introduction 449
15.2 TiO2 in cement-based materials 449
15.2.1 General goals of the use of TiO2 in
cement-based materials 449
15.2.2 Use of TiO2 for functional cement-based materials 451
15.2.3 Use of TiO2 for structural cement-based materials 458
15.2.4 Patents on cement-based materials with TiO2 461
15.3 TiO2 in geopolymers 461
15.4 TiO2 in ceramic tiles 462
15.4.1 Ceramic tiles production 462
15.4.2 Exploitation of TiO2 in ceramic tiles 464
15.4.3 International patents on photocatalytic ceramic tiles 467
15.4.4 Standards 468
15.5 TiO2 in cultural heritage conservation 468
15.6 Environmental and health concerns in the use of TiO2 in
building materials 470
15.7 Conclusion and perspectives 473
References 474

Section 4 TiO2 devices and their applications 481

16 TiO2 oxides for chromogenic devices and dielectric mirrors 483
Alessandro Cannavale and Giovanni Lerario
16.1 TiO2 in electrochromic devices 483
16.1.1 Deposition techniques 484
16.2 TiO2 in photo-electrochromic devices 488
16.3 TiO2 optical properties 492
16.4 Modeling distributed Bragg reflectors 493
16.5 Bloch surface waves and microcavity modes 498
16.6 Conclusion 501
References 501

17 TiO2 in memristors and resistive random access memory devices 507

Andrea Zaffora, Francesco Di Franco, Roberto Macaluso
and Monica Santamaria
17.1 Introduction 507
xii Contents

17.2 Fundamentals on resistive switching 508

17.2.1 Electrochemical metallization memories 508
17.2.2 Valence change memories 510
17.3 TiO2 in memristors and resistive random access memories:
fabrication methods and performances 512
17.3.1 Anodizing 512
17.3.2 Atomic layer deposition 516
17.3.3 Sputtering 519
17.4 Conclusions and perspectives 521
References 522

18 Applications of TiO2 in sensor devices 527

Giuseppe Mele, Roberta Del Sole and Xiangfei Lü
List of abbreviations 527
18.1 Introduction 528
18.2 Titanium dioxide in sensor field: principles and mechanisms
of action 530
18.2.1 Mechanism of sensing 531
18.3 Gas sensors 534
18.3.1 H2O (humidity) 536
18.3.2 Dihydrogen (H2) 538
18.3.3 Dioxygen (O2) 539
18.3.4 CO2 541
18.3.5 NH3 542
18.3.6 CO 543
18.3.7 NO2 544
18.3.8 Volatile organic compounds 545
18.4 Biosensors 552
18.4.1 Glucose 554
18.4.2 DNA and biomarkers 555
18.4.3 Pesticides 556
18.4.4 Cholesterol derivatives 558
18.4.5 H2O2 558
18.4.6 Urea 559
18.4.7 Glutamate 560
18.4.8 Bacteria (Escherichia coli, etc.) 560
18.4.9 Other analytes 561
18.5 Sensors for environmental applications 562
18.5.1 Detection of organic pollutants 563
18.5.2 Detection of dyes 565
18.5.3 TiO2 in molecular imprinting technology 567
18.5.4 Metal ions detection 568
18.6 Fabrication of nanoscale sensors and future prospects 569
18.7 Conclusion 571
References 572
Contents xiii

19 TiO2 photocatalysis for environmental purposes 583

Olga Sacco, Vincenzo Vaiano and Diana Sannino
19.1 General overview on air and water pollution 583
19.2 General remarks on advanced oxidation processes 586
19.3 TiO2 photocatalysis for the removal of volatile organic
compounds from gaseous stream 589
19.4 TiO2 photocatalysis for indoor air purification 591
19.4.1 TiO2 photocatalysis with forced air 592
19.4.2 TiO2 photocatalysis in indoor environments 596
19.5 TiO2 photocatalysis for the removal of organic pollutants
from water and wastewater 600
19.6 Conclusion and future perspectives 602
References 603

20 Fine chemistry by TiO2 heterogeneous photocatalysis 609

Giuseppe Marcı`, Elisa I. Garcı´a-López and Leonardo Palmisano
20.1 Introduction 609
20.2 Reactions of partial oxidation 610
20.2.1 Oxidation of alcohols to aldehydes 610
20.2.2 Hydroxylation of aromatic compounds 612
20.2.3 Epoxidation of alkenes 614
20.3 Reactions of partial reduction 615
20.3.1 Hydrogenation of double and triple
carbon carbon bonds 615
20.3.2 Reduction of carbonyls 617
20.3.3 Reduction of N-containing functional groups 619
20.4 Reactions of alkylation 626
20.4.1 Reactions of addition 626
20.4.2 Substitution reactions in aromatic compounds 627
20.4.3 Reactions of carbonyl alkylation 629
20.5 Conclusion 631
References 631

21 Catalytic applications of TiO2 637

Salvatore Scire`, Roberto Fiorenza, Marianna Bellardita
and Leonardo Palmisano
21.1 Introduction 637
21.2 Titania as catalytic support: role of the strong
metal support interaction 638
21.3 The role of defects on catalytic performances 640
21.4 Main reactions involving titania-based catalyst 641
21.4.1 NOx removal 641
21.4.2 Deacon process 644
21.4.3 Reactions with sulfur-rich compounds 646
21.4.4 Direct synthesis of hydrogen peroxide 649
xiv Contents

21.4.5 Fischer Tropsch synthesis 651

21.4.6 Water gas shift reaction 653
21.4.7 CO2 methanation 655
21.4.8 Biofuels production 656
21.4.9 Dehydrogenations, selective oxidations, and
hydrogenations 658
21.5 Conclusion and outlooks 666
References 667

Index 681
List of contributors

Samar Al Jitan Department of Chemical Engineering, Khalifa University, Abu

Dhabi, United Arab Emirates; Research and Innovation Center on CO2 and H2
(RICH Center), Khalifa University, Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

Marianna Bellardita Department of Engineering, University of Palermo, Palermo,

Italy

Annachiara Berardinelli Department of Industrial Engineering, University of

Trento, Trento, Italy; Center Agriculture Food Environment, University of Trento,
Trento, Italy

Maria Chiara Bignozzi Department of Civil, Chemical, Environmental and

Materials Engineering, Alma Mater Studiorum University of Bologna, Bologna,
Italy

Juan Pedro Bolı́var Department of Integrated Sciences, Faculty of Experimental

Sciences, University of Huelva, Huelva, Spain; Research Centre of Natural
Resources, Health and the Environment (RENSMA), University of Huelva, Huelva,
Spain

Giovanni Camera-Roda Department of Civil, Chemical, Environmental, and

Materials Engineering, University of Bologna, Bologna, Italy

Alessandro Cannavale Department of Sciences in Civil Engineering and

Architecture, Polytechnic University of Bari, Bari, Italy

Mariafrancesca Cascione Department of Mathematics and Physics “Ennio De

Giorgi”, University of Salento, Lecce, Italy

Valeria De Matteis Department of Mathematics and Physics “Ennio De Giorgi”,

University of Salento, Lecce, Italy

Roberta Del Sole Department of Engineering for Innovation, University of

Salento, Lecce, Italy

Francesco Di Franco Department of Engineering, University of Palermo,

Palermo, Italy
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shortcoming. What do you think Dr Jameson would say? What would the
council? the whole blooming town say? If I told them I'd got the sack
because I refused to pass an engine which wasn't up to specification. I
imagine, Mr Darwen, you're prepared to reconsider your decision, for a
start, eh? just for a start."

"By Jove, Carstairs, I'm proud of you, and it's all my teaching, every bit.
'Ye ponderous Saxon swingeth ye sledge hammer.'" Darwen smiled like the
rising sun in June. "God! what glorious weather we're getting. Look at the
sky, Carstairs! Did you ever see a sky like that in October?"

"The sky's alright. I should have thought the the earth beneath your feet
had more concern with you." He pointed downwards with his finger. He
was feeling rather well pleased with himself.

"Well done, Carstairs. The earth is good. I adore the earth, that is nature.
Earth, Ocean, Air, beloved brotherhood. It's a pity you don't ready poetry,
Carstairs." He smiled, genially.
 Carstairs remained silent, impassive. He watched him as he watched an
engine when he tested it; looking at everything, expecting anything.

"When I was taking my before-breakfast walk this morning, I came

across a slow-worm; rather late for a slow-worm in October, isn't it?"

"Couldn't say."

"Ah! I thought you were an observer of these things. It's rather a pity.
Still, I'll proceed. I touched his tail with my stick, and—you know the usual
result—he promptly waggled it off and left it on the footpath while the rest
of him disappeared in the long grass. Now the slow-worm thought that was
smart, but it was really only silly. I didn't want his tail, or the rest of him; he
thought I did, he was used to people who did, he thought I was a common
or garden fool. So do you, Carstairs. You can go right now to Dr Jameson or
to the devil himself; in fact, you can do what you damn well please. I have
no further use for you, and that being the case, I don't intend to carry you
around on my back any longer."

"Very well." Carstairs turned without another word and opened the door.

"Stop a minute."

Carstairs turned.

"Shut the door half a minute. Won't you sit down?"

"No, thanks."

"Ah! the strange uncouth ways of the Saxon. However, it doesn't matter.
You don't want to hit a fellow when he's down, Carstairs?"

"No, but I want to knock him down."

"Ah! the incomprehensible Saxon. You wouldn't see a poor devil with
an old mother and a wife and family chucked out on the streets, or sent to
quod?"
 "What are you pulling my leg about now? You haven't got a wife and
family."

"Me! Oh dear, no. I'm not down. Ha! ha! You can't touch me, old chap. I
haven't passed the engine. As a matter of fact I told the contractor's man
yesterday I was afraid she wouldn't do, and I drafted a letter to the firm,
telling them so. It's not sent yet; the clerks are awaiting my signature to the
typed copy."

"Then what have you been playing all this game about?"

"This is the game of life, dear boy, a sort of universal high jinks. Let me
explain. I'm going to have that engine, and if you kick up a row, either
before or after, you won't touch me. All that will happen will be that half a
dozen poor fools, who are at present earning a precarious living as tools,
tools of the inexpensive order, will be chucked aside."

Carstairs stepped to the door again. "Alright, we shall see."

"Don't be in such a beastly hurry. Sit down."

"No, thanks."

"Alright. In case of a rumpus, the first man to go overboard would be

Winter, poor little helpless Winter. He was rushed into the council because
he was a fool, he accepted a five-pound note because he was a thundering
fool, and his wife was ill and the kids hadn't got togs, and because
everybody else was having five-pound notes. He'd be the first sacrifice.
Poor old Winter, he looks like a thief; really, he's got a better (or worse)
conscience than a nonconformist minister; that five pounds has pulled him
down astonishingly, I've watched him wither away. And his kids, poor little
mites! All through nature one observes that the small units increase at an
astonishingly high ratio. He only got one five quid."

Carstairs was silent as a carven image.

"You're damned hard, you know, Carstairs. Then there's the contractor's
man there. He'd get the bullet, and two or three fitters also. Possibly a clerk
or two and my chief assistant would go to quod, even the honest and highly
virtuous Mr Carstairs, son of the vicar of Chilcombe, who would die, with
his wife, broken-hearted."

"That'll do, Darwen. I'll go and see Dr Jameson and a solicitor at once."

"Carstairs, the mater's taken a fancy to you, and I'll admit you appeal to
me more than any man I've ever met. So damned ponderous. Your moment
of inertia must be simply enormous. Isn't it possible to save you in your
own despite." He touched an electric bell. An office boy appeared.

"Ask Mr Slick if he'll come up here a minute, will you, please." Darwen
was invariably excessively polite, even to the minutest and most sub-
divided portions of humanity.

"Slick and I will endeavour to show you, Carstairs, that you've got 'no
case,' as I believe they say in law."

Mr Slick appeared.

"Ah! Here you are!" Darwen shook hands cordially. "Mr Carstairs is not
satisfied with your engine, Mr Slick. Won't come up to specification, he
says."

Mr Slick raised his eyebrows; he was a hard-looking citizen, with strong

prominent jaw and piercing blue eyes. "I understood that he expressed
himself as quite pleased yesterday."

"That's absurd, Slick, you know very well——"

Darwen held up his hand. "Don't wrangle in my office, please,

gentlemen! You have some support for your statement, of course, Mr
Slick?"

"Of course; my two erectors heard him say it."

"Yes. I think I understand the Shift Engineer to say he was present also.
The fact is I've written to your firm expressing approval of the engine, on,
as I understand, Mr Carstairs' advice. Now there seems to be some hitch.
However, we will come down and see to that presently, Mr Slick. Thanks
very much for coming up."

The contractor's engineer looked inquiringly at Darwin, then he

disappeared through the door again.

Darwen turned to Carstairs. "Do you comprehend that you're bowled

out, yet."

"No. By Jove! I don't."

Darwen's eyes were wide with admiration. "Ye gods! Ye gods!" he said.
"Look here, Carstairs, you and I must continue to be pals, I'll share with
you. When I came here, the councillors were sharing the 'profits,' and old
Jones was getting an occasional five quid. Now, I get the profits and the
councillors get the occasional five quid. See? Will you go halves? And I tell
you halves is something pretty good, too!"

"No, I won't. I'll have my market price as an engineer—no more and no

less. I can do for one dollar what any fool can do for two. I want my share
of the dollar I save."

"You won't get it, old chap."

"But I will! I'll tell you what I'll do. If you chuck this sharp practice and
send those engines back, we'll make this place pay well, and the council
shall give us our whack."

Darwen was thoughtful for a minute. "They won't do it," he said. "The
fool in the street, the voter, whose mind runs in shillings per week, wouldn't
let them. In municipal work it doesn't pay to be honest."

Carstairs stroked his chin in perplexity. "You're an enigma to me. You

seem such a sound sort of chap in most things. Damn it! One doesn't expect
a Clifton man to be a blasted rogue. Can't you run on straight lines? You
know you're bound to get bowled out sooner or later."
 "Don't be such a pessimist, Carstairs. I hate pessimists. Let me assure
you, you are equally an enigma to me. I fail entirely to comprehend your
mind. Why do you worry and dissipate your energies deciding what is right
and what is wrong? What you really want to know is, what is best. There is
nothing wrong in this best of all worlds, only degrees of rightness. All effort
that produces no tangible personal benefit is so much wasted energy. You're
not an Atlas, you can't carry the world on your shoulders. The whole
scheme of nature was evolved for the benefit of individuals, not classes, or
masses, or groups. The proof of the pudding is in the eating: I'm always
happy, and the keenest source of my pleasure is in out-witting my fellow-
men. Life is a perpetual game of skill, and like the integral calculus there
are no rules. You're a mathematician, you like mathematics. I've seen you
grubbing your snout into 'Salmon's Conic Sections' just on top of a Sunday's
dinner. Why don't you step up with me into the higher planes of really
applied mathematics; applied as all such things should be, to men and
women? We'd have a rare time, you and I. When we boxed the other day we
agreed at the start that we would slog; we started out to bump each other for
all we were worth; we both got several severe punches; I got a split lip and
you got a black eye, but we enjoyed it, didn't we?"

Carstairs sat down with a heavy plump into a chair. "You ought to be
put in an asylum, not in prison," he said, wearily. "I wonder if I gave you a
good hammering if it would do any good."

"Not a bit, old chap. Besides, I rather doubt your ability to do it."

"There's an element of uncertainty," Carstairs admitted.

They regarded each other with measuring eyes. Carstairs allowed his
gaze to roam slowly over the thick, clean neck, the well-developed, lissom-
looking shoulders, and last of all rested on the clean-cut, patrician face with
the small, neat moustache just shading the well-moulded, full red lips, quite
closed; and the brilliant, clear eyes that sparkled with a bold, clear
intelligence. They were two splendid animals, these two young men,
spotlessly clean, well groomed.

"I tell you what, Darwen. I'll fight you now, to a finish, whether you
keep those engines or whether I get the sack."
 "Thanks, old chap, that's a new form of the gamble of our early youth
—'heads, I win; tails, you lose.' But we shall come to a scrap all the same
some day, I know."

"That's so; I'm going away to open the campaign now." Carstairs picked
up his hat. "I'll call for my screw, Monday. By the way, I suppose it will be
at the increased rate?"

"Well, I'm damned."

"It's all in the game, you know. No need to lose your temper over it."

"Good, jolly good. I see I'm converting you. By Jove, you shall have it."

"Thanks. Good-bye."

"I say!"

"Hullo!"

"Mind! There are no rules. No rules whatever."

"Thanks for the tip. I see I'm converting you."

"Not at all, old chap. I want a run for my money, that's all."

"Well, I'll do my best. Ta-ta." Carstairs disappeared.

CHAPTER XVII

Carstairs went straight from the works to Dr Jameson's private house.

The Doctor was seriously ill and could not be seen, so he went back to his
diggings in deep thought. "Better go home and see the guv'nor before I do
anything now. Oh, the fearful and wonderful British law," he thought to
himself. He saw the landlady and gave notice.

"Have you got another appointment, Mr Carstairs?" she asked.

"No, I've got the sack," he answered.

"Oh!" she said. "Has Mr Darwen—" she stopped; she wanted to know
all about it, but did not know how to ask.

"Mr Darwen has sacked me, yes," he said; Carstairs was a most
unsatisfactory subject for a woman to tackle, he left so much to the
imagination. "I shall leave about three o'clock on Monday afternoon," he
explained, as a conclusion to the subject. He produced his drawing board
and settled down to do a good afternoon's work on his slowly evolving
patent. As he bent low over the board, scrutinizing some fine detail work,
his eye caught an extra pin-hole on the edge of the clean white board. He
dug the point of his pencil thoughtfully into it. "That's funny," he said to
himself. "I don't remember to have done that." He looked around at the
three other corners and saw pin-holes in all of them. It was a new board and
he had never had a sheet of paper on it of the size indicated by the pin-
holes. "Some devil has been taking a tracing of this, our esteemed friend,
Darwen, or his agents, no doubt." He leaned back in his chair in deep
thought for a time, then he bent forward and set to work vigorously again.

He was still busy when the landlady's daughter brought in his tea. He
looked up casually and caught her eye bent on his work with extreme
interest. "Good evening, Miss Hughes," he said.

"Good evening, Mr Carstairs," she answered, and she had summoned up

a defiant sort of air to meet his eye.

Carstairs' face was like the Sphinx. "I'm going up to London to-morrow.
Would you mind letting me have breakfast at half-past six? I shall come
back by the eleven twenty, but I've got a very important piece of work here
I want to finish before I go, so please don't let me be disturbed for the rest
of the evening."
 "Certainly, Mr Carstairs. Half-past six, and I'll see no one disturbs you."

"Thanks very much." Carstairs regarding her steadily with his calm,
inquiring eyes, caught a gleam in hers that she did not want to be seen; he
gave no sign, and she went away quite oblivious of the fact that he had read
her like an open book.

Next day he went off to London and saw his lawyer brother; they talked
over his case against Darwen, and his brother very quickly decided that he
had "no case." So Carstairs returned, and in the stillness of the wee sma'
hours he examined the drawing again, and found, as he expected, four more
pin-holes. He did not smile; when in company his mirth was seldom
excessive, when alone, his features never for one second relaxed their
attitude of calm seriousness. He replaced the drawing board in its position,
leaning against the wall behind the piano, and went to bed.

The following Monday he called at the office for his month's pay. He
waited at the little shutter that the men were paid at, while the office boy
went to fetch a clerk who fetched another clerk, who consulted with the first
clerk, and called a third clerk and sent the office boy for a book and a pen,
then they all three consulted together again and reprimanded the office boy
before handing the cheque through the little shutter. Which entire rigmarole
was the outcome of insufficient work, and too sufficient pomposity. While
Carstairs waited, Darwen opened the door of his office.

"Hullo, old chap, come inside. Here, Morris, bring that cheque along
with you." He held out his hand.

Carstairs ignored it. "Thanks, I won't stay, I'm just going off to
Chilcombe."

Darwen laughed. "A Saxon," he said, "is an individual who proceeds

along 'strait' lines. I was going to ask you to come home with me this
evening. The mater would like to see you."

"Thanks very much. I should like to see your mother, but I'm afraid I
can't stop this evening."
 The clerk brought out the cheque. Darwen took it and, glancing over it,
handed it on to Carstairs. "There you are, old chap. I'm sorry it's the last."

Carstairs took it. "Thanks," he said. "Good-bye," and turning on his heel
he went out for the last time.

Darwen watched him through the window as he walked down the street
with his long swinging stride. "The reason, personified, of why England
owns half the earth," he said, to himself. "And equally the reason that she
doesn't own the whole of it," he added, thoughtfully.

He lay back in his chair and gazed far into the future, mental pictures in
many colours shaped themselves in kaleidoscopic procession across the
white expanse of ceiling. For half an hour he sat thus, then sitting suddenly
upright, and drawing in his outstretched legs, he plunged back into the
present among the papers on his table.

Some six months later, in the dining-room at Chilcombe Vicarage, there

was held a family council of war. The old vicar was there, Commander
Carstairs was there, Phillip and Stanley Carstairs were there, and they all
looked serious. For six months Jack Carstairs had been applying for each
and every one of the multitudinous appointments advertized in the technical
papers, with no results; he had learned through the same medium that
Darwen had been appointed to one of the London stations at £750 per
annum, to start; and that evening he had returned from making personal
application for a very junior appointment at £1 per week in a neighbouring
town. The chief (of German antecedent), the personification of ignorance
and bombast, had catechized and bullied him, cross-examined and
contradicted him, and finally abruptly refused him the billet.

Jack was speaking, and they all listened attentively. "When a German
ex-gasfitter, with a little elementary arithmetic and less electrical catalogue
information, talks to me as though he were a miniature Kaiser and I the last-
joined recruit of his most unsatisfactory regiment, and then refuses me a
switchboard attendant's job on technical grounds, then, I admit, my
thoughts lightly turn to robbery with violence as a recreation and means of
livelihood. He'd have liked me to say 'yes, sir,' and 'no, sir,' and 'please, sir,'
and touch my cap and grovel in the dirt. I'd see him in hell first."
 "I always said, Hugh, you ought to have put that boy in the Service," the
sailor interjected, quite seriously.

The others smiled, a wry, sickly sort of smile.

"Can't we—er—don't we know somebody with some influence on these

councils who would use it on Jack's behalf." It was the artist who spoke.

The young engineer stood up suddenly with unwonted passion. "Damn

it! I'm not a blasted mendicant! I'm a competent engineer! It's no use talking
rot about modesty. I know what I have done and can do again. I say I'm a
competent engineer. I've been getting two hundred and fifty quid a year, and
earning it, saving it for the people who paid me. And I am willing to take a
quid, one blasted quid a week, and I can't get it. I'm not going to beg for my
own cursed rights. In all those hundreds of jobs I've applied for, I must have
been the best man on my paper form alone. If I can't live as an engineer in
my own cursed country, then, by God! I'll steal." He turned on his father
with blazing eyes. "I say, I'll steal, and if any blundering idiot or flabby fool
tries to stop me, I'll kill him dead. The first law of life is to live. What do
you say to that? You preach platitudes from the pulpit every Sunday, what
have you to say to the logic of the engine room?"

The old vicar smiled, somewhat sorrowfully. "I might say that you are
possessed of a devil," he said, with quiet humour. "Your engineering
experience ought to tell you that it's no use ramming your head against a
brick wall."

Jack sat down. "That's so," he said, "there's an obstruction somewhere;

the thing to do is to find it out and remove it."

"I tell you, Hugh! the initial mistake was in not putting that boy into the
Service; though there's a maxim there that promotion comes 80 per cent. by
chance, 18 per cent. by influence, and 2 per cent. by merit."

"That's rot, you know, unless you mean to say that 18 per cent. of the
men in the Service are snivelling cheats."
 The sailor was thoughtful. "There are some cheats in the Navy, but not
many; as a rule it's not the man's own fault that he is promoted by influence.
At the same time you can't afford to get to loo'ard of your skipper, much
depends on one man's word, but that man is usually a——"

"Sportsman," Jack interrupted.

"Well! 'an officer and a gentleman' they call him. The Service would
have suited you."

"My dear uncle, I have all respect for the Service, but at the same time I
should not wish to be anything but an engineer, and engineers in the Service
at the present time are somewhat small beer. Anyway, as a money-making
concern, the Service don't pan out anything great. Bounce told me that the
seamen haven't had a rise in pay since Nelson's time."

The sailor laughed. "That's a good old A.B.'s growl," he said. "I gather,
too, that engineering is not panning out so very great as a money-making
concern just now."

"No! you're right. I'm a bit sick when I think of it, too, it's rather
sickening. I've got a model upstairs of an engine that would make any man's
fortune, and I can't get the fools to take it up. I think I shall have to break
away for the States."

They were all silent for some minutes till the old vicar rose. "Shall we
go to bed?" he said, and they proceeded upstairs, solemnly, silently, in
single file.

The weeks passed away and Jack's uncle went back to sea, and his
brothers returned to London, and another brother came and went. The
winter changed to spring, the days lengthened out and grew brighter, and
still Jack Carstairs could get nothing to do, nor get any one to take up his
patent. Then one morning amongst the two or three letters awaiting him was
one with a penny stamp: the ha'penny ones he knew were the stereotyped
replies of the various municipalities to the effect that they "regretted" his
application had not been successful; it was a way they had, they sent these
things with a sort of grim humour about a month after he had seen by the
papers that some one else had been appointed; it wasn't very often they
went to the extravagance of a penny stamp for a refusal, so he opened that
first, glancing casually at the city arms emblazoned on the flap of the
envelope; enclosed was a typewritten letter, he was appointed switchboard
attendant at £1 per week.

Carstairs gazed at it sternly with bitter hatred of all the world in his
heart. "A blasted quid," he said, aloud. "Ye gods! a quid a week! And
Darwen, the cheat, is getting £750." He hadn't fully realized when he was
writing his applications for these small appointments, exactly the extent of
his fall; but now, as he had it in typewritten form before his eyes, and
signed, he looked again, signed by a man who had served his time with him.

Mrs Carstairs was humbly thankful for small mercies, but the old vicar,
whom Jack found alone in his study, looked into his son's eyes and read the
bitterness of soul there. "Do you think it would be wise to refuse and wait
for something better. This is your home you know. You can work on your
patent."

"I thought of all that before I applied," Jack answered. "The patent! The
path of the inventor seems the most difficult and thorny path of all."

The old man's eyes brightened; he liked the stern definiteness of his
youngest son. "It does seem hard," he said. "I don't understand these things,
but I think you are wise to take this appointment."

"Oh, yes! I have no idea of refusing, but when I think that that lying
cheat, Darwen, is getting £750 a year, it makes me feel pretty sick."

"I know, Jack; we see these things in the Church the same as
everywhere else; the cheat seems sometimes to prosper. Why it should be
so, I cannot comprehend; the cheat must inevitably cheat himself as the liar
lies to himself, so that they both live in a sort of fool's paradise; they both
unaccountably get hold of the wrong end of the stick; they imagine that they
are successful if they satisfy others that they have done well, while the only
really profitable results ensue when one satisfies oneself that one has done
well; then and only then, can real intellectual, moral, and physical, progress
follow. It is possible to imagine a being of such a low order of morality that
he could feel a real intellectual pleasure in outwitting his fellow-men by
cheating; such an one, it seems to me, must be very near the monkey stage
of development. As man progresses intellectually he sets his intellect harder
and harder tasks to perform, else he declines. It is possible that the cheat
may occasionally reap very material and worldly advantages by his
cheating. Some few apparently do, though the number must be extremely
small and the intellectual capacity exceedingly great, for they are constantly
pitted, not against one, but against the whole intellect of the world,
including their brother cheats. The rewards and the punishments alike, in
the great scheme of the Universe, are spread out unto the third and the
fourth generation; the progeny of the cheat, in my experience, decline in
intellect and moral force till probably the lowest depths of insanity and
idiocy are reached. This great law of punishment for the sins of the fathers
is beyond my mental grasp, but that it is so I cannot doubt; it is in fact, to
me, the greatest proof that there must be something beyond the grave. You
understand, Jack, I'm not in the pulpit, this is worldly wisdom, but I want to
set these things before you as they appear to me. You must forget Darwen;
you reap no profit from his success or failure, but you expend a large
amount of valuable energy in brooding over it. 'Play up, and play the game,'
Jack. Don't cheat because others are cheating, if you do you are bound to
become less skilful in the real game. Think it over, Jack, 'Keep your eyes in
the boat,' don't think about the other crew or the prize, simply 'play the
game.' Have you told your mother you're going?"

"Yes."

"Did you say you wanted to borrow some of my books?"

"No, thanks. I've got all the books I want. You've seen my two packing
cases full."

"Ah, yes! I'd forgotten. So you're going to-morrow. That's rather soon,
isn't it?"

"I told them that if appointed I'd start at once. I'm going to pack and
then whip round and say good-bye to my friends."

"Ah, of course. I'll see you off in the morning; six o'clock, did you say?"
 "Yes, six ten at the station."

So Jack took his hat and stick and strolled round to his few friends in
the village to tell them he was going. The Bevengtons were furthest away,
and he called there last. Bessie had been away in London and other places,
nearly all the time he had been home, when he called now she was home.
He had heard she was coming.

"I've come to say good-bye, Mrs Bevengton. I've got a job, and I'm
going up north again."

They both looked pleased; Mrs Bevengton really liked Jack. "When are
you going?" she asked.

"To-morrow morning."

Bessie's jaw dropped, she was keenly disappointed, and she looked,
Jack thought, in the pink of condition, more so than usual.

"I hope it's a good appointment, Jack," Mrs Bevengton said; she was
disappointed too.

"A quid a week," he answered, bluntly, looking at her steadily.

 Her jaw dropped also. "Oh, but I suppose it will lead on to better
things."

"Twenty-five bob at the end of six months," he said, with rather a

cynical little smile. Out of the tail of his eye he regarded Bessie, she had
flushed a deep red at the mention of his microscopical salary. She seemed
more matured, her manner impressed him with a sense of responsibility, an
air of definiteness that appealed to him immensely; he saw now that her lips
closed suddenly. She had made up her mind to something.

"Come on out for a walk, Jack," she said. "I haven't had a look round
the old place for nearly a year. We shall be back to tea, mother."

She got her hat and they walked briskly down the pleasant village street
in the glorious spring sunshine; every one they passed greeted them with
civility and respect. Jack regarded them with pleasure; he told Bessie they
were the stiffest, hardest, and most genuinely civil crowd he had ever
encountered. "Perhaps I'm biassed," he said, "but I like men and these chaps
appeal to me more than any others I've met so far."

They turned across the fields and went more slowly. "I've been having a
good time, Jack, while I've been away."

"So I expect," he answered.

"Well, I've been to a lot of dances and parties and theatres, etc. I
suppose I've enjoyed it—in a way."

"Yes, I should think you would—in most ways."

"Jack!" she was walking very slowly. "Two men—three men, asked me
to marry them."

"Ah! I suppose they were not the right ones." He did not quite know
what to say.

"Well, two of them were not—but one of them—it was Mr Darwen."

 "Good Lord!" Jack turned as though he had been shot. "Are you going
to marry him?"

"I don't quite know. I've come home to decide. I don't think I care for
him in quite the right way. Why did he break off his engagement to Miss
Jameson?"

"Ah—er—I—" Carstairs was thinking, thinking, thinking. He wondered

what to do and what to say.

"He told me that he thought he was in love with her till he saw me, then
he knew he wasn't."

"Er—yes."

"He's very nice and very handsome, still I know I don't care for him as
—as I do for some one else."

Carstairs was silent, he was trying to think. The situation was getting
beyond him, he had a fleeting idea of trying to change the subject, of
closing the matter; but he knew that once closed it could never be re-
opened, and he wanted to do the right thing. They were silent for some
minutes.

"Jack?" she asked, and the struggle was painful. "Has my money made
any difference to you?"

"Half a minute!" he said, hastily. "Don't say any more, please. Let me
think"—he paused—"Five years ago I met a girl in Scotland."

"And you love her, Jack?"

"Yes. I thought not at one time, but I know now that I do."

They walked for a long time in silence, then she spoke.

"I'll write to Mr Darwen to-night and tell him that if he likes to wait a
long, long time, I'll marry him," she said.
 Carstairs was silent; the great big English heart of him was torn asunder.

"Why don't you speak, Jack? Mr Darwen's your friend, isn't he? He's
handsome and so kind and attentive, and if he cares for me as—as he says
he does, I think I ought to marry him. I couldn't before, but now—don't you
think I ought?"

"Well, er—it's more a question for the guv'nor. Will you let me explain
the situation to him, and then he'll see you. The guv'nor's very wise, in these
things, and it's his province, you know. I should like you to talk to him."

"Thanks—thanks. I will."

That night Jack Carstairs sat up very late with his father in his study.
And next morning the train whisked him north, to the dim, grey north, and
the engines, and the steam, and the hard, hard men, mostly engineers. Jack
was very sad and silent in his corner of a third-class carriage all the way.

CHAPTER XVIII

For three months Carstairs worked steadily at the beginning of things

electrical; he cleaned the switchboard and regulated the volts; he took
orders from a youth, rather younger and considerably less experienced than
himself. For those three months the world seemed a very dull place to him.

Then, quite by accident, as these things always happen, he met a man, a

casual caller, who wished to see round the works; the shift engineer told
Carstairs off to show him round, because it was "too much fag" to do it
himself.

He was an oldish man with whiskers and heavy, bushy eyebrows, just
turning grey; his questions were few and to the point, and Carstairs seemed
to feel he had met a kindred spirit at once. He listened attentively to
Carstairs' clear and concise explanations, and when it was over he did not
offer him a shilling as sometimes happened, but in the casual, unemotional,
north-country way, he handed him his card and asked if he would like to see
round his works "over yonder."

Carstairs glanced from the card in his hand to the rather shabby
individual, with the "dickey," and slovenly, dirty tie, in front of him.

"Thanks, I'll come to-morrow," he said.

"Will ye? Then ye'll find me there at nine."

"I'll be there at nine, too."

"Then I'll see ye." He held out his hand and gave Carstairs a vigorous
grip. The name on the card was the name of a partner of a very prominent
firm of engine builders.

Carstairs felt a singular sense of satisfaction for the rest of the evening;
his perturbed mind seemed at peace, somehow.

Next morning, punctually at nine, he called at the office and was shown
round the extensive works by the old man in person. He explained and
Carstairs listened and made occasional comments or asked questions. And
ever and anon he felt a pair of keen eyes regarding him in thoughtful,
shrewd glances. When they had finished the circuit of the works, Carstairs
broached the subject of his patent, he felt an extreme friendliness towards
this rough, shrewd man, and he knew that his labours on the patent were at
last going to bear fruit.

The old man listened. "You have a model?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'll come round and see it." And so he did there and then.

In the dingy little back room of Carstairs' diggings, he examined

critically and minutely the small model.
 "Ye made this yerself?"

"I did."

"Ay!" It was a grunt of distinct approval.

They took it to pieces and spread the parts out on the table, the old man
examining them one by one. He offered no comment, and Carstairs put it
together again and turned it with his hand, showing the beautiful smooth
running of it.

"Yon's well made! Are ye a fitter?"

"Oh, no!"

"Are ye not? I was. Will ye bring it round to the office?"

"Certainly." Carstairs dismantled it and wrapped the various parts up in

paper.

"I'll take those," the old man said, and seizing two of the heavier parts,
he tucked them under his arm. And thus, carrying it between them, they
returned to the big works. There a long consultation was held. The junior
partner (an ex-officer of the Royal Engineers) was called in, and the final
result was that the firm undertook to manufacture the engine and pay
royalties to Carstairs.

"I must see a lawyer and get advice as to the terms of the agreement,"
Carstairs said. "I'm only free in the mornings this week. Will that suit you?"

"What are ye getting yonder?" the old man asked, bluntly.

"A pound a week?"

"Well, ye can start here in the drawing office on Monday at £2. Will that
do ye?"

"Thanks, I'll give notice to-day."

 The next six months passed like six days to Carstairs; he hadn't time to
write to any of his friends and only an occasional scribble to his mother. At
the end of that time the first engine built on his model was finished and had
completed a most satisfactory run. Then he took a holiday, and went home.

He had entirely lost track of all his friends and station acquaintances.

"Bessie is not engaged," his father told him, "but Darwen still pesters
her with his attentions."

Jack was thoughtful. "She's a jolly decent girl, Bessie! If Darwen were
only honest! I shall go up to London, I want to see his mother." So next day
Carstairs went off.

He called at Darwen's office.

"Hullo, old chap! How's the Carstairs' patent high-speed engine going?
Eh?"

It was the same old, handsome, healthy Darwen; bright-eyed, pink-

cheeked, lively.

"Oh, alright. Is your mother in London?"

"Well, I'm blowed!" There was that little flicker of the eyelids that
Carstairs knew so well. "Yes, there you are," he handed him a card with an
address on it.

"Thanks! When will you be out?"

"Ye gods. Ha! Ha! Ha! Good old Carstairs. The northern air is simply
wonderful for the nerves. Ha! Ha! Ha! I tell you what. I'll go out this
evening, just to oblige you. I'll go to the theatre. I haven't seen the new
thing at Daly's yet."

"Thanks!" Carstairs turned and went away. He made his way to the
address in South Kensington that Darwen had given him. It was a boarding-
house; he asked for Mrs Darwen and sent in his card. The German page-
waiter sort of chap showed him up to their private sitting-room.
 She entered almost immediately, looking older and whiter, her eyes
more bleared and her cheeks deeply furrowed. She looked him sadly in the
face.

"I knew you'd quarrel," she said.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "It couldn't be helped; we didn't really quarrel,

I called on him to-day."

"Ah!" There was a gleam of pleasure in her eyes. "Why didn't you call
on me before you left Southville?"

"I couldn't—then, he'd just broken me—chucked me aside like a broken

chisel. I sent you my best respects."

"Yes, so he said: I wondered if he lied. You're—so—I thought you

would have called—about the girl."

"I couldn't, I was broke, that was why."

"You don't usually shirk."

"No, I try not to. It didn't occur to me in that light."

"Ah!" She gave a deep sigh. "You're the best man, I think, I've ever met.
You want to know where she is?"

"Yes."

"Then you have a good appointment?"

"Well, a firm is manufacturing my engine. We think it's bound to go."

"Charlie's got an engine, too." She was watching him very closely.

"Has he?" Carstairs was rather interested.

"The drawings are in his room. I'll go and get them."

 He put out a hand to stop her. "I don't expect he'd like me to see them,"
he said.

"Oh! but I want you to. I can trust you."

"You think I mightn't be tempted to get revenge by cribbing his ideas?"

"No. I know you. Besides yours is finished."

He was very serious. "That's so, but I'm full of ideas for improvements
and other things, and it is most difficult, when one sees a thing that is
appropriate, not to assimilate it consciously or unconsciously into one's own
ideas."

"Still, I'll get them," she answered. She went out and came back in a
minute or two with a drawing board and a roll of tracings.

Carstairs glanced over the drawing, and allowed just a slight smile to
pucker up the corners of his eyes.

"Ah! I knew," she said, "that's your engine."

"Oh, no!" he answered. "It's not my engine."

She looked at him and saw he was speaking the truth. She spread out the
tracing. "That girl from your lodgings in Southville brought that round one
day when he was out; he never gets angry, but I know he was annoyed
because she'd left it."

Carstairs bent down and examined it. "It's done rather well," he said;
"girls are good tracers. I left that for her to copy."

"Oh! I didn't think you—I didn't know you knew. I wanted to warn
you."

"Thanks very much, but it wasn't necessary."

She heaved a very deep sigh of relief. "That's been on my mind like a
ton weight. I was afraid my boy was a thief. Very often I was on the point of
writing to you, but—you hadn't called."

Carstairs was bent low over the drawing examining some fine work
very closely, he was so deeply interested he did not look up as she spoke.
"That's excellent work! Darwen was always an artist, in everything," he
said.

"Yes," she answered, proudly, "he's very clever. I'm so sorry you
quarrelled. I knew that girl would come between you."

He looked up, impassive as usual.

"Yes," she repeated, "but you're the one she really likes, I know." Mrs
Darwen seemed to have grown visibly younger.

Carstairs straightened himself and stood looking down at her with his
calm steady grey eyes. "Ye-es," he said, he was thinking rapidly. "Yes, I
hope that's true. Will you give me her address; has she—er—got a
situation?"

"Oh, no! she's been in London, having her voice trained. She's got a
magnificent voice."

"Where did she get the money from?" he asked, he was quite pale, and
his grey eyes glittered like newly fractured steel.

She looked at him aghast, frightened; she put an imploring hand on his
arm. "The girl's honest. I know she is. I'm sure of it; she was saving. I know
she was saving. Perhaps Lady Cleeve——"

"Perhaps Charlie——"

"No, no! I know she wouldn't take anything from him, because—
because that was why she left."

Carstair's face lightened. "Will you give me her address?" he asked.

"She's gone down to her people again, she came to me yesterday.

They're encamped down at the old place near Southville; it suits her father
down there, he's getting old and Scotland was too cold for him."

The words brought back a luminous vision to Carstairs; his eyes took on
a far-away look. "My word! she was full of pluck," he said, aloud, but really
to himself.

Mrs Darwen smiled with great pleasure. "If—when you've married her,
you'll be friends with Charlie again——?"

He came to earth suddenly and considered. "We shall be friends," he

said, "from now onwards, but I'm afraid we can never again be chums. I'll
call and see him before I go to the station."

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you, I'm so glad."

He shook hands and left her, and half an hour later he called at her son's
office. The office boy showed him in and he held out his hand. Darwen
grasped it with a warm friendly smile.

"In the presence of other people," Carstairs said, as the door closed
behind the office boy, "we are friends, because your mother is one of the
best women on this earth. How she came to have such a whelp as you, Lord
only knows. Do you agree?"

"My dear chap, I am honoured and delighted. It is not often one gets an
opportunity of shaking an honest man by the hand, even though the excuse
for doing so is a lie." He smiled his most charming smile. "You're putting
on weight, Carstairs."

"Yes, but I'm in the pink of condition."

"So am I."

"That's good. Your mother isn't looking so well."

"No, I've noticed it myself." A shade of real anxiety passed across

Darwen's face.
 Carstairs noted it, and his opinion of Darwen went up; he stepped up
close. "Look here," he said, "she was worried because she thought her son
was a damned rogue. I've told her—at least given her to understand, that he
is not, and you'll find her looking a different woman. Do you see?" He
turned and went out.

Darwen sat back in his chair lost in thought. "That man always makes
me think. Wonderful man, wonderful man. Damn him!" He sat up suddenly
and went on with his work.

That night Carstairs reached Southville; he got out and put up at a hotel
for the night. Before going to bed he went out and strolled round the town
in the silence of the late evening. Old memories crowded back on him, and
although they were not always of pleasant happenings, the taste of them
was sweet; he had progressed since then, and he felt, in the bones of him, he
knew, that he was going forward. His steps turned mechanically towards the
electric lighting works, and before he quite realized where he was going, he
found himself facing the old familiar big gates with the little wicket at the
side. He looked at his watch. "Eleven o'clock! Wonder who's on." He
paused a minute, then opened the wicket and went in. "Probably some of
the men who knew me are still here," he thought.

The engine room was just the same. The hum of the alternators and the
steady beat of the engines thrilled his blood. He stood in the doorway for
some minutes in silence. The sight of running machinery was meat and
drink to him. A little square-shouldered man wandered up to ask him what
he wanted. Carstairs held out his hand. "Hullo, Bounce, have you forgotten
me?"

"Well, I never. Mister Carstairs! I ain't forgotten you, sir, but you was in
the dark."

"Any one I know left on the staff? Who's in charge?"

"A new engineer, sir. They be all new since your time."

"All new! Ye gods, how fellows do shift about."

 "They do, sir. I've seen hundreds come and go since I've been here."

So they stood talking for some time. "I suppose you're off at twelve,
Bounce?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's nearly that now. I'll wait. You can come round to my hotel and get a
drink."

"Thank you, sir. I'll go and wash and change. Would you like to see the
engineer?"

"No, thanks, I'll just sit on this box and watch the wheels going round:
same old box, same old wheels. How many hours of the night have I spent
sitting on this box listening to your damn lies, Bounce?"

"God only knows, sir."

Carstairs sat and waited, and all sorts of fresh fancies and ideas
thronged through his brain as the wheels went round and the alternators
hummed and the corliss gear clicked. A distinct and complete idea for a
valuable improvement shaped itself in his mind as he watched and listened.
He stood up and stretched himself with a sigh of great content. "By Jove, if
old Wagner composed music like that, he'd have done a damn sight more
for humanity," he said to himself, with a smile at the sacrilege of the
thought. To Carstairs, Wagner was a drawing-room conjurer, not to be
thought of at the same instant as men who designed engines. Bounce came
down the engine-room towards him with his wide-legged sailor's roll. He
was attired in a blue-serge suit, spotlessly clean and neat. His strong, clean-
cut features and steady, piercing eyes showed to great advantage in the
artificial light and against the dark background of his clothes.

"By Jove, Bounce, I can't understand why it is you're not Prime Minister
of England."

The little man's bright eyes twinkled, but his features never relaxed. "I
can't understand it myself," he said.
 They went off together to the hotel, where Carstairs drank whisky and
Bounce rum. The waiter looked at him somewhat superciliously, till he met
Bounce's eye fair and square, then he seemed impressed.

"Dr Jameson is dead. Mr Jenkins is chairman of the committee now."

"Yes, I know."

They were silent for some minutes.

"Do you know this county well, Bounce?"

"Pretty well, sir."

"Ah—do you remember my telling you about a gipsy girl?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want to find her; she's round here somewhere, near the new water-
works."

"I know, sir."

"Good man. Can you drive—a horse I mean?"

"Yes, sir."

Carstairs stood up. "Now, look here, Bounce, I really cannot understand
—what the devil is there you can't do?"

"I dunno, sir."

"Can you drive a perambulator?"

"Yes—an' nurse the baby."

"Go on. Tot up what you can do. Honest. No lies, mind."
 "Alright. Here goes. I can walk and run and swim; box and wrestle and
fence; shoot a revolver, rifle, or big gun; push a perambulator, hand cart, or
wheel barrow; drive a steam engine, horse, or a motor car; stroke a boiler,
feed a baby, the missus, an' the kids; scrub a floor, table, or furniture; make
and mend and wash my own clothes; light a fire, make tea, coffee, or cocoa;
make the beds and clean the rooms; wash up dishes, lay the table and wait
at same; clean the windows, paint a house, and walk along the roof." Here
he started to digress. "I remember once in Hong Kong——"

"That'll do, I've heard all about Hong Kong. Let's hear about Bounce."

"There ain't much more that I can do," he said.

"Nonsense! you sing."

"Oh, yes! Sing a song, play the mouth organ. Catch fish (when they
bite), dance the waltz, polka, hornpipe, quadrilles, lancers, and schottische."
He paused.

"Go on."

"There ain't no more. Oh, yes! read an' write an' do sums." He scratched
his head. "Sometimes," he added.

"I said no lies."

"Alright, cross out sums."

"What about ropes?"

"Oh, yes! I can splice, reave, whip, knot, bend, an' gen'rally handle
ropes."

"Can you shave yourself and cut your own hair?"

"Yes an' no, but mind, I have 'ad a try at that. I come aboard drunk once
in——"

"Shut up. What else can you do?"