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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17272-8.txt b/17272-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fa0a40 --- /dev/null +++ b/17272-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11073 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A People's Man, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A People's Man + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: December 10, 2005 [EBook #17272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PEOPLE'S MAN *** + + + + +Produced by MRK + + + + +A PEOPLE'S MAN + +By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + + + +CHAPTER I + +"Maraton has come! Maraton! Maraton is here!" + +Across Soho, threading his way with devilish ingenuity through mazes of +narrow streets, scattering with his hooter little groups of gibbering, +swarthy foreigners, Aaron Thurnbrein, bent double over his ancient +bicycle, sped on his way towards the Commercial Road and eastwards. +With narrow cheeks smeared with dust, yellow teeth showing behind his +parted lips, through which the muttered words came with uneven +vehemence, ragged clothes, a ragged handkerchief around his neck, a +greasy cap upon his head--this messenger, charged with great tidings, +proclaimed himself, by his visible existence, one of the submerged +clinging to his last spar, fighting still with hands which beat the air, +yet carrying the undaunted light of battle in his blazing eyes, +deep-sunken, almost cavernous, the last refuge, perhaps, of that ebbing +life. Drops of perspiration were upon his forehead, his breath came +hard and painfully. Before he had reached his destination, one could +almost hear the rattle in his throat. He even staggered as at last he +dropped from his bicycle and, wheeling it across a broad pavement, left +it reclining against a box of apples exposed in front of a small +greengrocer's shop. + +The neighbourhood was ugly and dirty, the shop was ugly and dirty. The +interior into which he passed was dark, odoriferous, bare of stock, +poverty-smitten. A woman, lean, hard-featured, with thin grey hair +disordered and unkempt, looked up quickly at his coming and as quickly +down again. Her face was perhaps too lifeless to express any emotion +whatsoever, but there might have been a shade of disappointment in the +swift withdrawal of her gaze. A customer would have been next door to a +miracle, but hope dies hard. + +"You!" she muttered. "What are you bothering about?" + +"I want David," Aaron Thurnbrein panted. "I have news! Is he behind?" + +The woman moved away to let him pass. + +"He is behind," she answered, in a dull, lifeless tone. "Since you took +him with you to Bermondsey, he does no work. What does it matter? We +starve a little sooner. Take him to another meeting, if you will. I'd +rather you taught him how to steal. There's rest in the prisons, at +least." + +Aaron Thurnbrein brushed past her, inattentive, unlistening. She was +not amongst those who counted. He pushed open an ill-fitting door, +whose broken glass top was stuffed with brown paper. The room within +was almost horrible in its meagreness. The floor was uncarpeted, the +wall unpapered. In a three-legged chair drawn up to the table, with +paper before him and a pencil in his hand, sat David Ross. He looked up +at the panting intruder, only to glower. + +"What do you want, boy?" he asked pettishly. "I am at work. I need +these figures. I am to speak to-night at Poplar." + +"Put them away!" Aaron Thurnbrein cried. "Soon you and I will be needed +no more. A greater than we have known is here--here in London!" + +The older man looked up, for a moment, as though puzzled. Then a light +broke suddenly across his face, a light which seemed somehow to become +reflected in the face of the starveling youth. + +"Maraton!" he almost shrieked. + +"Maraton!" the other echoed. "He is here in London!" + +The face of the older man twitched with excitement. + +"But they will arrest him!" + +"If they dared," Aaron Thurnbrein declared harshly, "a million of us +would tear him out of prison. But they will not. Maraton is too +clever. America has not even asked for extradition. For our sakes he +keeps within the law. He is here in London! He is stripped for the +fight!" + +David Ross rose heavily to his feet. One saw then that he was not +really old. Starvation and ill-health had branded him with premature +age. He was not thin but the flesh hung about him in folds. His cheeks +were puffy; his long, hairy eyebrows drooped down from his massive +forehead. There was the look about him of a strong man gone to seed. + +"They will be all around him like flies over a carcass!" he muttered. + +"Mr. Foley--Foley--the Prime Minister--sent for him directly he +arrived," Aaron Thurnbrein announced. "He is to see him to-night at his +own house in Downing Street. It makes no difference." + +"Who can tell?" the other remarked despondently. "The pages of history +are littered with the bodies of strong men who have opened their lips to +the poisoned spoon." + +Aaron Thurnbrein spat upon the floor. + +"There is but one Maraton," he cried fervently. "There has been but one +since the world was shaped. He is come, and the first step towards our +deliverance is at hand." + +The older man, whose trembling fingers still rested upon the sheets of +paper, looked at his visitor curiously. + +"You are a Jew," he muttered. "Why do you worship Maraton? He is not +of your race." + +The young man's gesture was almost sublime. + +"Jew or Christian--what does it matter?" he demanded. "I am a Jew. +What has my religion done for me? Nothing! I am a free man in my +thoughts. I am one of the oppressed. Men or women, Jews or Christians, +infidels or believers--what does it matter? We are those who have been +broken upon the wheel. Deliverance for us will come too late. We fight +for those who will follow. It is Maraton who points towards the light. +It is Maraton whose hand shall press the levers which shall set the +kingdoms rocking. I tell you that our own country, even, may bite the +dust--a conqueror's hand lay heavy upon her throat; and yet, no matter. +Through the valley of fire and blood and pestilence--one must pass +through these to the great white land." + +"Amen!" David Ross cried fervently. "The gift is upon you to-day, +Aaron. Amen!" + +The two stood together for a moment, speechless, carried away out of +themselves. Then the door was suddenly opened. The woman stood there, +sour and withered; behind her, a hard-featured man, official, +malevolent. + +"We are for the streets!" the woman exclaimed harshly. "He's got the +order." + +"Three pounds thirteen or out you go," the man announced, pushing his +way forward. "Here's the paper." + +David Ross looked at him as one awakened from a dream. + +"Evicted!" + +"And d--d well time, too!" the newcomer continued. "You've had all the +chance in the world. How do you expect to make a living, fiddling about +here all day with pencil and paper, and talking Socialist rot at night? +Leave that chair alone and be off, both of you." + +They glanced despairingly towards Aaron Thurnbrein. He thrust his hands +into his pockets and exposed them with a little helpless gesture. The +coins he produced were of copper. The official looked at them and +around the place with a grin of Contempt. + +"Cut it short," he ordered. "Clear out." + +"There's my bicycle," Aaron Thurnbrein said slowly. + +They all looked at him--the woman and the man with nervous anxiety, the +official with a flicker of interest Aaron Thurnbrein drew a little sigh. +The bicycle bad been earned by years of strenuous toil. It was almost a +necessity of his existence. + +"Aaron's bicycle," David Ross muttered. "No, no! That must not be. +Let us go to the streets." + +But the woman did not move. Already the young man had wheeled it into +the shop. + +"Take it," he insisted. "What does it matter? Maraton is here!" + +Away again, this time on foot, along the sun-baked pavements, through +courts and alleys into a narrow, busy street in the neighbourhood of +Shoreditch. He stopped at last before a factory and looked tentatively +up at the windows. Through the opened panes came the constant click of +sewing machines, the smell of cloth, the vision of many heads bent over +their work. He stood where he was for a time and watched. The place +was like a hive of industry. Row after row of girls were there, seated +side by side, round-shouldered, bending over their machines, looking +neither to the right nor to the left, struggling to keep up to time to +make sure of the wage which was life or death to them. It was nothing +to them that above the halo of smoke the sky was blue; or that away +beyond the murky horizon, the sun, which here in the narrow street +seemed to have drawn all life from the air, was shining on yellow +cornfields bending before the west wind. Here there was simply an +intolerable heat, a smell of fish and a smell of cloth. + +Aaron Thurnbrein crossed the street, entered the unimposing doorway and +knocked at the door which led into the busy but unassuming offices. A +small boy threw open a little glass window and looked at him doubtfully. + +"I don't know that you can see Miss Thurnbrein even for a minute," he +declared, in answer to Aaron's confident enquiry. "It's our busiest +time. What do you want?" + +"I am her brother," Aaron announced. "It is most important." + +The boy slipped from a worn stool and disappeared. Presently the door +of the little waiting-room was suddenly opened, and a girl entered. + +"Aaron!" she exclaimed. "Has anything happened?" + +Once more he raised his head, once more the light that flickered in his +face transformed him into some semblance of a virile man. + +"Maraton is here! Maraton has arrived!" + +The light flashed, too, for a moment in her face, only she, even before +it came, was beautiful. + +"At last!" she cried. "At last! Have you seen him, Aaron? Tell me +quickly, what is he like?" + +"Not yet," Aaron replied. "To-night they say that he goes first to +visit the Prime Minister. He will come to us afterwards." + +"It is great news," she murmured. "If only one could see him!" + +The office boy reappeared. + +"Guvnor says why aren't you at your work, Miss Thurnbrein," he remarked, +as he climbed on to his stool. "You won't get through before closing +time, as it is." + +She turned reluctantly away. There was something in her face from which +even Aaron could scarcely remove his eyes. + +"I must go," she declared. "We are busy here, and so many of the girls +are away--down with the heat, I suppose. Thank you for coming, Aaron." + +"I would like," he answered, "to walk the streets of London one by one, +and stand at the corners and shout to the passers-by that Maraton has +come. Only I wonder if they would understand. I wonder!" + +He passed out into the street and the girl returned to her work. After +a few yards he felt suddenly giddy. There was a little enclosure across +the road, called by courtesy a playground--a few benches, a dusty space, +and some swings. He threw himself into a corner of one of the benches +and closed his eyes. He was worn out, physically exhausted. Yet all +the time the sense of something wonderful kept him from collapse. +Maraton had come! + + + +CHAPTER II + +Westward, the late June twilight deepened into a violet and moonless +darkness. The lights in St. James's Park glittered like motionless +fireflies; a faint wind rustled amongst the drooping leaves of the +trees. Up here the atmosphere was different. It seemed a long way from +Shoreditch. + +Outside the principal of the official residences in Downing Street, +there was a tented passage-way and a strip of drugget across the +pavement. Within, the large reception rooms were crowded with men and +women. There was music, and many forms of entertainment were in +progress; the popping of champagne corks; the constant murmur of +cheerful conversation. The Prime Minister was giving a great political +reception, and men and women of every degree and almost every +nationality were talking and mingling together. The gathering was +necessarily not select, but it was composed of people who counted. The +Countess of Grenside, who was the Prime Minister's sister and the head +of his household, saw to that. + +They stood together at the head of the staircase, a couple curiously +unlike not only in appearance but in disposition and tastes. Lady +Grenside was tall and fair, almost florid in complexion, remarkably +well-preserved, with a splendid presence and figure. She had been one +of the beauties of her day, and even now, in the sixth year of her +widowhood, was accounted a remarkably handsome woman. Mr. Foley, her +brother, was also tall, but gaunt and thin, with a pronounced stoop. +His grey imperial gave him an almost foreign appearance. He had the +forehead of a philosopher but the mouth of a humourist. His eyes, +shrewd and penetrating--he wore no glasses although he was nearly sixty +years of age--were perhaps his best feature. + +"Tell me, my dear Stephen," she asked, as the tide of incoming guests +finally ceased and they found themselves at liberty, "why are you +looking so disturbed? It seems to me that every one has arrived who +ought to come, and judging by the noise they are making, every one is +thoroughly enjoying themselves. Why are people so noisy nowadays, I +wonder?" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"What an observant person you are! To tell you the truth, there was +just one guest whom I was particularly anxious to see here to-night. He +promised to come, but so far I am afraid that he has not arrived." + +"Not that awful man Maraton?" + +He nodded. + +"No use calling him names, Catharine," he continued grimly. "Maraton is +one of the most important problems we have to face within the next few +weeks. I suppose there is no chance of his having slipped in without +our having noticed him?" + +Lady Grenside shook her head. + +"I should imagine not. I am quite sure that I haven't shaken hands +to-night with any one who reminded me in the least of what this man must +be. Very likely Elisabeth will discover him if he is here. She has +just gone off on one of her tours of inspection." + +Mr. Foley shrugged his shoulders. He was, after all, a philosopher. + +"I am afraid Elisabeth won't get very far," he remarked. "Carton was in +her train, and Ellison and Aubrey weren't far behind. She is really +quite wonderful. I never in all my life saw any one look so beautiful +as she does to-night." + +Lady Grenside made a little grimace as she laid her fingers upon her +brother's arm and pointed towards an empty settee close at hand. + +"Beautiful, yes," she sighed, "but oh, so difficult!" + + +Almost at that moment, Elisabeth had paused on her way through the +furthest of the three crowded rooms--and Maraton, happening +simultaneously to glance in her direction, their eyes met. They were +both above the average height, so they looked at one another over the +heads of many people, and in both their faces was something of the same +expression--the faint interest born of a relieved monotony. The girl +deliberately turned towards him. He was an unknown guest and alone. +There were times when her duties came quite easily. + +"I am afraid that you are not amusing yourself," she remarked, with some +faint yet kindly note of condescension in her tone. + +"You are very kind," he answered, his eyebrows slightly lifted. "I +certainly am not. But then I did not come here to amuse myself." + +"Indeed? A sense of duty brought you, perhaps?" + +"A sense of duty, beyond a doubt," the man assented politely. + +She felt like passing on--but she also felt like staying, so she stayed. + +"Cannot I help you towards the further accomplishment of your duty, +then?" she enquired. + +He looked at her and the grim severity of his face was lightened by a +smile. + +"You could help me more easily to forget it," he replied. + +She opened her lips, hesitated and closed them again. Already she had +recognised the fact that this was not a man to be snubbed. Neither had +she, notwithstanding her momentary irritation, any real desire to do so. + +"You do not know many people here?" + +"I know no one," he confessed. + +"I am Elisabeth Landon," she told him. "Mr. Foley is my uncle. My +mother and I live with him and always help him to entertain." + +"Hence your interest in a lonely stranger," he remarked. "Please have +no qualms about me. I am always interested when I am permitted to watch +my fellow creatures, especially when the types are novel to me." + +She looked at him searchingly for a moment. As yet she had not +succeeded in placing him. His features were large but well-shaped, his +cheek-bones a little high, his forehead massive, his deep-set eyes +bright and marvellously penetrating. He had a mouth long and firm, with +a slightly humorous twist at the corners. His hair was black and +plentiful. He might have been of any age between thirty-five and forty. +His limbs and body were powerful; his head was set with the poise of an +emperor. His clothes were correct and well worn, he was entirely at his +ease. Yet Elisabeth, who was an observant person, looked at him and +wondered. He would have been more at home, she thought, out in the +storms of life than in her uncle's drawing-rooms. Yet what was he? He +lacked the trimness of the soldier; of the debonair smartness of the +modern fighting man there was no trace whatsoever in his speech or +appearance. The politicians who were likely to be present she knew. +What was there left? An explorer, perhaps, or a colonial. Her +curiosity became imperious. + +"You have not told me your name," she reminded him. + +"My name is Maraton," he replied, a little grimly. + +"You--Maraton!" + +There was a brief silence--not without a certain dramatic significance +to the girl who stood there with slightly parted lips. The smooth +serenity of her forehead was broken by a frown; her beautiful blue eyes +were troubled. She seemed somehow to have dilated, to have drawn +herself up. Her air of politeness, half gracious, half condescending, +had vanished. It was as though in spirit she were preparing for battle. + +"You seem to have heard of me," he remarked drily. + +"Who has not heard of you!" she answered in a low tone. "I am sorry. +You have made me break my word." + +"I?" + +She was recovering herself now. A certain icy aloofness seemed to have +crept into her manner. Her head was held at a different angle. Even +the words seemed to leave her lips differently. Her tone was one of +measured indignation. + +"Yes, you! When Mr. Foley told me that he had asked you to come here +to-night, I vowed that I would not speak to you." + +"A perfectly reasonable decision," he agreed, without the slightest +change of expression, "but am I really to be blamed for this unfortunate +incident? You cannot say that I thrust myself upon your notice." + +His eyebrows were ever so slightly uplifted. She was not absolutely +sure that there was not something very suggestive of amusement in his +deep-set eyes. She bit her lip. Naturally he was not a gentleman! + +"I thought that you were a neglected guest," she explained coldly. "I +do not understand how it is that you have managed to remain +undiscovered." + +He shook his head doubtfully. + +"I made my entrance with the others. I saw a very charming lady at the +head of the stairs--your mother, I believe--who gave me her fingers and +called me Mr. Martin. Your uncle shook hands with me, looking over my +head to welcome some one behind. I passed on with the rest. The fault +remains, beyond a doubt, with your majordomo and my uncommon name." + +"Since I have discovered you, then," she declared, "you had better let +me take you to my uncle. He has been looking everywhere for you for the +last hour. We will go this way." + +She laid the extreme tips of her fingers upon his coat sleeve. He +glanced down at them for a moment. Her reluctance was evident. + +"Perhaps," he suggested coolly, "we should make faster progress if I +were to follow you." + +She took no further notice of him for some time. Then very suddenly she +drew him to one side out of the throng, into an almost empty anteroom--a +dismal little apartment lined with shelves full of blue books and +Parliamentary records. + +"I am content to obey my guide," he remarked, "but why this abrupt +flight?" + +She hesitated. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him. Perhaps +some instinct told her that the truth was best. + +"Because Mr. Culvain was in that crowd," she told him. "Mr. Culvain +has been looking for you everywhere. It is only to see you that he came +here this evening. My uncle is anxious to talk with you first." + +"I am flattered," he murmured, smiling. + +"I think that you should be," she asserted. "Personally, I do not +understand my uncle's attitude." + +"With regard to me?" + +"With regard to you." + +"You think, perhaps, that I should not be permitted here at all as a +guest?" + +"I do think that," she replied, looking steadily into his eyes. "I +think more than that. I think that your place is in Sing Sing prison." + +The corners of his mouth twitched. His amusement maddened her; her eyes +flashed. Underneath her white satin gown her bosom was rising and +falling quickly. + +He became suddenly grave. + +"Do you take life seriously, Lady Elisabeth?" he asked. + +"Certainly," she answered firmly. "I do not think that human life is a +thing to be trifled with. I agree with the Times." + +"In what it said about me?" + +"Yes! + +"And what was that? It is neglectful of me, I know, but I never see the +Times." + +"It held you entirely responsible for the death of those poor men in +Chicago," she told him. "It named you as their murderer." + +"A very sensible paper, the Times," he agreed. "The responsibility was +entirely mine." + +She looked at him for a moment in horror. + +"You can dare to admit that here--to me?" + +"Why not?" he answered calmly. "So long as it is my conviction, why not +proclaim it? I love the truth. It is the one virtue which has never +been denied me." + +Her eyes flashed. She made no effort whatever to conceal her +detestation. + +"And they let you go--those Americans?" she cried. "I do not +understand!" + +"There are probably many other considerations in connection with the +affair which you do not understand," he observed. "However--they had +their opportunity. I walked the streets openly, I travelled to New York +openly, I took my steamer ticket to England under my own name. The +papers, I believe, chronicled every stage of my journey." + +"It was disgraceful!" she declared. "The people in office over there +are cowards." + +"Not at all," he objected. "They were very well advised. They acted +with shrewd common sense. America is no better prepared for a +revolution than England is." + +"Do you imagine," she demanded, her voice trembling, "that you will be +permitted to repeat in this country your American exploits?" + +Maraton smiled a little sadly. + +"Need we discuss these things, Lady Elisabeth?" + +"Yes, we need!" she replied promptly. "This is my one opportunity. You +and I will probably never exchange another word so long as we live. I +have read your book--every word of it. I have read it several times. +In that book you have shown just as much of yourself as you chose, and +no more. Although I have hated the idea that I might ever have to speak +to you, now that you are here, now that it has come to pass, I am going +to ask you a question." + +He sighed. + +"People ask me so many questions!" + +"Tell me this," she continued, without heeding his interruption. "Do +you, in your heart, believe that you are justified in going about the +world preaching your hateful doctrines, seeking out the toilers only to +fill them with discontent and to set them against their employers, +preaching everywhere bloodshed and anarchy, inflaming the minds of +people who in ordinary times are contented, even happy? You have made +yourself feared and hated in every country of the world. You have +brought America almost to the verge of revolution. And now, just when +England needs peace most, when affairs on the Continent are so +threatening and every one connected with the Government of the country +is passing through a time of the gravest anxiety, you intend, they say, +to start a campaign here. You say that you love the truth. Answer me +this question truthfully, then. Do you believe that you are justified?" + +He had listened to her at first with a slight, tolerant smile upon his +lips, a smile which faded gradually away. He was sombre, almost stern, +when she had finished. He seemed in some curious way to have assumed a +larger shape, to have become more imposing. His attitude had a strange +and indefinable influence upon her. + +She was suddenly conscious of her youth and inexperience--bitterly and +rebelliously conscious of them--before he had even opened his lips. Her +own words sounded crude and unconvincing. + +"I am not one of the flamboyant orators of the Socialist party, Lady +Elisabeth," he said, "nor am I one of those who are able to see much joy +or very much hopefulness in life under present conditions. For every +word I have spoken and every line I have written, I accept the full and +complete responsibility." + +"Those men who were murdered in Chicago, murdered at your instigation +because they tried to break the strike--what of them?" + +He looked at her as one might have looked at a child. + +"Their lives were a necessary sacrifice in a good cause," he declared. +"Does one think now of the sea of blood through which France once purged +herself? Believe me, young lady, there is nothing in the world more to +be avoided than this sentimental and exaggerated reverence for life. It +is born of a false ideal, artistically and actually. Life is a +sacrifice to be offered in a just cause when necessary. + +"I imagine that this is your uncle." + +Mr. Foley was standing upon the threshold of the room, his hand +outstretched, his thin, long face full of conviction. + +"My niece has succeeded in discovering you, then, Mr. Maraton," he +said. "I am glad." + +Maraton smiled as he shook hands. + +"I have certainly had the pleasure of making your niece's acquaintance," +he admitted. "We have had quite an interesting discussion." + +Elisabeth turned away without looking towards him. + +"I will leave Mr. Maraton to you, uncle," she said. "He will tell you +that I have been very candid indeed. We were coming face to face with +Mr. Culvain, so I brought him in here." + +She did not glance again in Maraton's direction, nor did she offer him +any form of farewell salutation. Mr. Foley frowned slightly as he +glanced after her. Maraton, too, watched her leave the room. She +paused for a moment on the threshold to gather up her train, a graceful +but at the same time imperious gesture. She left them without a +backward look. Mr. Foley turned quickly towards his companion and was +relieved at the expression which he found in his face. + +"My niece is a little earnest in her views," he remarked, "too much so, +I am afraid, for a practical politician. She is quite well-informed and +a great help to me at times." + +"I found her altogether charming," Maraton said quietly. "She has, too, +the unusual gift of honesty." + +Mr. Foley was once more a little uneasy. It was impossible for him to +forget Elisabeth's outspoken verdict upon this man and all his works. + +"The young are never tolerant," he murmured. + +"And quite rightly," Maraton observed. "There is nothing more to be +envied in youth than its magnificent certainty. It knows! . . . I +am flattered, Mr. Foley, that you should have received me in your house +to-night. Your niece's attitude towards me, even if a trifle crude, is, +I am afraid, the general one amongst your class in this country." + +"To be frank with you, I agree," Mr. Foley assented. "I, personally, +Mr. Maraton, am trying to be a dissenter. It is for that reason that I +begged you to come here to-night and discuss the matter with me before +you committed yourself to any definite plan of action in this country." + +"Your message was a surprise to me," Maraton admitted calmly. "At the +same time, it was a summons which I could not disregard. As you see, I +am here." + +Mr. Foley drew a key from his pocket and led the way across the room +towards a closed door. + +"I want to make sure that we are not disturbed. I am going to take you +through to my study, if I may." + +They passed into a small inner room, plainly but comfortably furnished. + +"My own den," Mr. Foley explained, closing the door behind him with an +air of relief. "Will you smoke, Mr. Maraton, or drink anything?" + +"Neither, thank you," Maraton answered. "I am here to listen. I am +curious to hear what there is that you can have to say to me." + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mr. Foley pointed to an easy-chair. Maraton, however, did not at once +respond to his gesture of invitation. He was standing, tense and +silent, with head upraised, listening. From the street outside came a +strange, rumbling sound. + +"You permit?" he asked, stepping to the window and drawing the curtain a +few inches on one side. "There is something familiar about that sound. +I heard it last in Chicago." + +Mr. Foley rose slowly from the easy-chair into which he had thrown +himself, and stood by his visitor's side. Outside, the pavements were +lined by policemen, standing like sentries about half-a-dozen yards +apart. The tented entrance to the house was guarded by a solid phalanx +of men in uniform. A mounted inspector was riding slowly up and down in +the middle of the road. At the entrance to the street, barely fifty +yards away, a moving mass of people, white-faced, almost spectral, were +passing slowly beneath the pale gas-lamps. + +"The people!" Maraton murmured, with a curious note in his tone, half of +reverence, half of pity. + +"The mob!" Mr. Foley echoed bitterly. "They brawl before the houses of +those who do their best to serve them. They bark always at our heels. +Perhaps to-night it is you whom they have come to honour. Your +bodyguard, eh, Mr. Maraton?" + +"If they have discovered that I am here, it is not unlikely," Maraton +admitted calmly. + +Mr. Foley dropped the curtain which he had taken from his companion's +fingers. Moving back into the room, he turned on more light. Then he +resumed his seat. + +"Mr. Maraton," he began, "we met only once before, I think. That was +four years ago this summer. Answer me honestly--do you see any change +in me?" + +Maraton leaned a little forward. His face showed some concern, as he +answered: + +"You are not in the best of health just now, I fear, Mr. Foley." + +"I am as well as I shall ever be," was the quiet reply. "What you see +in my face is just the record of these last four years, the outward +evidence of four years of ceaseless trouble and anxiety. I will not +call myself yet a broken man, but the time is not far off." + +Maraton remained silent. His attitude was still sympathetic, but he +seemed determined to carry out his role of listener. + +"If the political history of these four years is ever truthfully +written," Mr. Foley continued, "the world will be amazed at the calm +indifference of the people threatened day by day with national disaster. +We who have been behind the scenes have kept a stiff upper lip before +the world, but I tell you frankly, Mr. Maraton, that no Cabinet who +ever undertook the government of this country has gone through what we +have gone through. Three times we have been on the brink of war--twice +on our own account and once on account of those whom we are bound to +consider our allies. The other national disaster we have had to face, +you know of. Still, here we are safe up to to-night. There is nothing +in the whole world we need now so much as rest--just a few months' +freedom from anxiety. Until last week we had dared to hope for it. +Now, breathless still from our last escape, we are face to face suddenly +with all the possibilities of your coming." + +"You fear the people," Maraton remarked quietly. + +Mr. Foley's pale, worn face suddenly lit up. + +"Fear the people!" he repeated, with a note of passion in his tone. "I +fear the people for their own sake; I fear the ruin and destruction they +may, by ill-advised action, bring upon themselves and their country. +Mr. Maraton, grant, will you not, that I am a man of some experience? +Believe, I pray you, that I am honest. Let me assure you of this. If +the people be not wisely led now, the Empire which I and my Ministers +have striven so hard to keep intact, must fall. There are troubles +pressing upon us still from every side. If the people are wrongly +advised to-day, the British Empire must fall, even as those other great +dynasties of the past have fallen." + +Maraton turned once more to the window, raised the curtain, and gazed +out into the darkness. There was a little movement at the end of the +street. The police had driven back the crowd to allow a carriage to +pass through. A hoarse murmur of voices came floating into the room. +The people gave way slowly and unwillingly--still, they gave way. Law +and order, strenuous though the task of preserving them was becoming, +prevailed. + +"Mr. Foley," Maraton said, dropping the curtain and returning once more +to his place, "I am honoured by your confidence. You force me, however, +to remind you that you have spoken to me as a politician. I am not a +politician. The cause of the people is above politics." + +"I am for the people," Mr. Foley declared, with a sudden passion in his +tone. "It is their own fault, the blind prejudice of their ignorant +leaders, if they fail to recognise it." + +"For the people," Maraton repeated softly. + +"Haven't my Government done their best to prove it?" the Prime Minister +demanded, almost fiercely. "We have passed at least six measures which +a dozen years ago would have been reckoned rank Socialism. What we do +need to-day is a people's man in our Government. I admit our weakness. +I admit that with every desire to do the right thing, we may sometimes +err through lack of knowledge. Our great trouble is this; there is not +to-day a single man amongst the Labour Party, a single man who has come +into Parliament on the mandate of the people, whose assistance would be +of the slightest service to us. I make you an offer which you yourself +must consider a wonderful one. You come to this country as an enemy, +and I offer you my hand as a friend. I offer you not only a seat in +Parliament but a share in the counsels of my party. I ask you to teach +us how to legislate for the people of the future." + +Maraton remained for a moment silent. His face betrayed no exultation. +His tone, when at last he spoke, was almost sad. + +"Mr. Foley," he said, "if you are not a great man, you have in you, at +least, the elements of greatness. You have imagination. You know how +to meet a crisis. I only wish that what you suggest were possible. +Twenty years ago, perhaps, yes. To-day I fear that the time for any +legislation in which you would concur, is past." + +"What have you to hope for but legislation?" Mr. Foley asked. "What +else is there but civil war?" + +Maraton smiled a little grimly. + +"There is what in your heart you are fearing all the time," he replied. +"There is the slow paralysis of all your manufactures, the stoppage of +your railways, the dislocation of every industry and undertaking built +upon the slavery of the people. What about your British Empire then?" + +Mr. Foley regarded his visitor with quiet dignity. + +"I have understood that you were an Englishman, Mr. Maraton," he said. +"Am I to look upon you as a traitor?" + +"Not to the cause which is my one religion," Maraton retorted swiftly. +"Empires may come and go, but the people remain. What changes may +happen to this country before the great and final one, is a matter in +which I am not deeply concerned." + +The telephone bell upon the table between them rang. Mr. Foley frowned +slightly, as he raised the receiver to his ear. + +"You will forgive me?" he begged. "This is doubtless a matter of some +importance. It is not often that my secretary allows me to be disturbed +at this hour." + +Maraton wandered back to the window, raised the curtain and once more +looked out upon the scene which seemed to him that night so pregnant +with meaning. His mind remained fixed upon the symbolism of the +streets. He heard only the echoes of a somewhat prolonged exchange of +questions and answers. Finally, Mr. Foley replaced the receiver and +announced the conclusion of the conversation. When Maraton turned +round, it seemed to him that his host's face was grey. + +"You come like the stormy petrel," the latter remarked bitterly. "There +is bad news to-night from the north. We are threatened with militant +labour troubles all over the country." + +"It is the inevitable," Maraton declared. + +Mr. Foley struck the table with his fist. + +"I deny it!" he cried. "These troubles can and shall be stopped. +Legislation shall do it--amicable, if possible; brutal, if not. But the +man who is content to see his country ruined, see it presented, a +helpless prey, to our enemies for the mere trouble of landing upon our +shores,--that man is a traitor and deserves to be treated as such. Tell +me, on behalf of the people, Mr. Maraton, what is it that you want? +Name your terms?" + +Maraton shook his head doubtfully. + +"You are a brave man, Mr. Foley," he said, "but remember that you do +not stand alone. There are your fellow Ministers." + +"They are my men," Mr. Foley insisted. "Besides, there is the thunder +in the air. We cannot disregard it. We are not ostriches. Better to +meet the trouble bravely than to be crushed by it." + +There was a tap at the door, and Lady Elisabeth appeared upon the +threshold. Maraton was conscious of realising for the first time that +this was the most beautiful woman whom he had ever seen in his life. +She avoided looking at him as she addressed her uncle. + +"Uncle," she said deprecatingly, "I am so sorry, but every one is asking +for you. You have been in here for nearly twenty minutes. There is a +rumour that you are ill." + +Mr. Foley rose to his feet reluctantly. + +"I will come," he promised. + +She closed the door and departed silently. At no time had she glanced +towards or taken any notice of Maraton. + +"We discuss the fate of an empire," Mr. Foley sighed, "and necessity +demands that I must return to my guests! This conversation between us +must be finished. You are a reasonable man; you cannot deny the right +of an enemy to demand your terms before you declare war?" + +Maraton, too, had risen to his feet. He had turned slightly and his +eyes were fixed upon the door through which Elisabeth had passed. For a +moment or two he seemed deep in thought. The immobility of his features +was at last disturbed. His eyes were wonderfully bright, his lips were +a little parted. + +"On Saturday," Mr. Foley continued, "we leave for our country home. +For two days we shall be alone. It is not far away--an hour by rail. +Will you come, Mr. Maraton?" + +Maraton withdrew his eyes from the door. "It seems a little useless," +he said quietly. "Will you give me until to-morrow to think it over?" + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Maraton made his way from Downing Street on foot, curiously enough +altogether escaping recognition from the crowds who were still hanging +about on the chance of catching a glimpse of him. He was somehow +conscious, as he turned northwards, of a peculiar sense of exhilaration, +a savour in life unexpected, not altogether analysable. As a rule, the +streets themselves supplied him with illimitable food for thought; the +passing multitudes, the ceaseless flow of the human stream, +justification absolute and most complete for the new faith of which he +was the prophet. For the cause of the people had only been recognised +during recent days as something entirely distinct from the Socialism and +Syndicalism which had been its precursors. It was Maraton himself who +had raised it to the level of a religion. + +To-night, however, there was a curious background to his thoughts. Some +part of his earlier life seemed stirred up in the man. The one +selfishness permitted to rank as a virtue in his sex was alive. His +heart had ceased to throb with the loiterers, the flotsam and jetsam of +the gutters. For the moment he was cast loose from the absorbed and +serious side of his career. A curious wave of sentiment had enveloped +him, a wave of sentiment unanalysable and as yet impersonal; he walked +as a man in a dream. For the first time he had seen and recognised the +imperishable thing in a woman's face. + +He reached at last one of the large, somewhat gloomy squares in the +district between St. Pancras and New Oxford street, and paused before +one of the most remote houses situated at the extreme northeast corner. +He opened the front door with a latch-key and passed across a large but +simply furnished hall into his study. He entered a little abstractedly, +and it was not until he had closed the door behind him that he realised +the presence of another person in the room. At his entrance she had +risen to her feet. + +"At last!" she exclaimed. "At last you have come!" + +There was a silence, prolonged, curious, in a sense thrilling. A girl +of wonderful appearance had risen to her feet and was looking eagerly +towards him. She was wearing the plain black dress of a working woman, +whose clumsy folds inadequately concealed a figure of singular beauty +and strength. Her cheeks were colourless; her eyes large and deep, and +of a soft shade of grey, filled just now with the half wondering, half +worshipping expression of a pilgrim who has reached the Mecca of her +desires. Her hair--her shabby hat lay upon the table--was dark and +glossy. Her arms were a little outstretched. Her lips, unusually +scarlet against the pallor of her face, were parted. Her whole attitude +was one of quivering eagerness. Maraton stood and looked at her in +wonder. The little cloud of sentiment in which he had been moving, +perhaps, made him more than ever receptive to the impressions which she +seemed to create. Both the girl herself and her pose were splendidly +allegorical. She stood there for the great things of life. + +"I would not go away," she cried softly. "They forbade me to stay, but +I came back. I am Julia Thurnbrein. I have waited so long." + +Maraton stepped towards her and took her hands. + +"I am glad," he said. "It is fitting that you should be one of the +first to welcome me. You have done a great work, Julia Thurnbrein." + +"And you," she murmured passionately, still clasping his hands, "you a +far greater one! Ever since I understood, I have longed for this +meeting. It is you who will become the world's deliverer." + +Maraton led her gently back to the chair in which she had been sitting. + +"Now we must talk," he declared. "Sit opposite to me there." + +He struck a match and lit the lamp of a little coffee machine which +stood upon the table. She sprang eagerly to her feet. + +"Let me, please," she begged. "I understand those things. Please let +me make the coffee." + +He laughed and, going to the cabinet, brought another of the old blue +china cups and saucers. With very deft fingers she manipulated the +machine. Presently, when her task was finished, she sat back in her +chair, her coffee cup in her hand, her great eyes fixed upon him. She +had the air of a person entirely content. + +"So you are Julia Thurnbrein." + +"And you," she replied, still with that note of suppressed yet +passionate reverence in her tone, "are Maraton." + +He smiled. + +"The women workers of the world owe you a great deal," he said. + +"But it is so little that one can do," she answered, quivering with +pleasure at his words. "One needs inspiration, direction. Now that you +have come, it will be different; it will be wonderful!" + +She leaned towards him, and once more Maraton was conscious of the +splendid mobility of her trembling body. She was a revelation to him--a +modern Joan of Arc. + +"Remember that I am no magician," he warned her. + +"Ah, but your very presence alters everything!" she cried. "It makes +everything possible--everything. My brother, too, is mad with +excitement. He hoped that you might have been at the Clarion Hall +to-night, before you went to Downing Street. You have seen Mr. Foley +and talked with him?" + +"I have come straight from there," he told her. "Foley is a shrewd man. +He sees the writing upon the wall. He is afraid." + +She looked at him and laughed. + +"They will try to buy you," she remarked scornfully. "They will try to +deal with you as they did with Blake and others like him--you--Maraton! +Oh, I wonder if England knows what it means, your coming!--if she really +feels the breaking dawn!" + +"Tell me about yourself?" Maraton asked, a little abruptly--"your work? +I know you only by name, remember--your articles in the reviews and your +evidence before the Woman Labour Commission. + +"I am a tailoress," she replied. "It is horrible work, but I have the +good fortune to be quick. I can make a living--there are many who +cannot." + +He was leaning back in his chair, his head supported by his hand, his +eyes fixed curiously upon her. Her pallor was not wholly the pallor of +ill-health. In her beautiful eyes shone the fire of life. She laughed +at him softly and held out her hands for his inspection. They were +shapely enough, but her finger-tips were scotched and pricked. + +"Here are the hall-marks of my trade. Others who work by my side have +fallen away. It is of their sufferings I have written. I myself am +physically very strong. It is the average person who counts." + +He looked at her thoughtfully. + +"You have written and worked a great deal for your age. Are you still +in employment?" + +"Of course! I left off at seven this evening. I have nothing else in +my life," she added simply, "but my work, our work, the breaking of +these vile bonds. I need no pleasures. I have never thought of any." + +Her eyes suddenly dropped before his. A confusion of thought seemed to +have seized upon her. Maraton, too, conscious of the nature of his +imaginings, although innocent of any personal application, was not +wholly free from embarrassment. + +"Perhaps you will think," he observed, "that I am asking too many +personal questions for a new acquaintance, but, after all, I must know +you, must I not? We are fellow workers in a great cause. The small +things do not matter." + +She looked at him once more frankly. The blush had passed from her +cheeks, her eyes were untroubled. + +"I don't know what came over me," she confessed. "I was suddenly afraid +that you might misunderstand my coming to you like this, without +invitation, so late. Somehow, with you, it didn't seem to count." + +"It must not!" + +More at her ease now she glanced around the room and back at him. He +smiled. + +"Confess," he said, "that there are some things about me and my +surroundings which have surprised you?" + +She nodded. + +"Willingly. I was surprised at your house, at being received by a man +servant--at everything," she added, with a glance at his attire. "Yet +what does that matter? It is because I do not understand." + +The little lines about his eyes deepened. He laughed softly. + +"I only hope that the others will adopt your attitude. I hear that many +of them have very decided views about evening dress and small luxuries +of any description." + +"Graveling and Peter Dale--especially Dale--are terrible," she declared. +"Dale is very narrow, indeed. You must bear with them if they are +foolish at first. They are uncultured and rough. They do not quite +understand. Sometimes they do not see far enough. But to-morrow you +will meet them. You will be at the Clarion to-morrow?" + +"I am not sure," he answered thoughtfully. "I am thinking matters +over. To-morrow I shall meet the men of whom you have spoken, and a few +others whose names I have on my list, and consult with them. +Personally, I am not sure as to the wisdom of opening my lips until +after our meeting at Manchester." + +"Oh, don't say that!" she begged. "What we all need so much is +encouragement, inspiration. Our greatest danger is lethargy. There are +millions who stare into the darkness, who long for a single word of +hope. Their eyes are almost tired. Come and speak to us to-morrow as +you spoke to the men and women of Chicago." + +He smiled a little grimly. + +"You forget that this is England. Until the time comes, one must choose +one's words. It is just what would please our smug enemies best to have +me break their laws before I have been here long enough to become +dangerous." + +"You broke the laws of America," she protested eagerly. + +"I had a million men and women primed for battle at my back," he +reminded her. "The warrant was signed for my arrest, but no one dared +to serve it. All the same, I had to leave the country with some work +half finished." + +"It was a glorious commencement," she cried enthusiastically. + +"One must not forget, though," he sighed, "that England is different. +To attain the same ends here, one may have to use somewhat different +methods." + +For the moment, perhaps, she was stirred by some prophetic misgiving. +The hard common sense of his words fell like a cold douche upon the +furnace of her enthusiasms. She had imagined him a prophet, touched by +the great and unmistakable fire, ready to drive his chariot through all +the hosts of iniquity; irresistible, unassailable, cleaving his way +through the bending masses of their oppressors to the goal of their +desires. His words seemed to proclaim him a disciple of other methods. +There were to be compromises. His attire, his dwelling, this +luxuriously furnished room, so different from anything which she had +expected, proclaimed it. She herself held it part of the creed of her +life to be free from all ornaments, free from even the shadow of luxury. +Her throat was bare, her hair simply arranged, her fingers and wrists +innocent of even the simplest article of jewellery. He, on the other +hand, the Elijah of her dreams, appeared in the guise of a man of +fashion, wearing, as though he were used to them, the attire of the +hated class, obviously qualified by breeding and use to hold his place +amongst them. Was this indeed to be the disappointment of her life? +Then she remembered and her courage rose. After all, he was the Master. + +"I will go now," she said. "I am glad to have been the first to have +welcomed you." + +He held out his hands. Then for a moment they both listened and turned +towards the door. There was the sound of an angry voice--a visitor, +apparently trying to force his way in. Maraton strode towards the door +and opened it. A young man was in the hall, expostulating angrily with +a resolute man servant. His hat had rolled on to the floor, his face +was flushed with anger. The servant, on recognising his master, stepped +back at once. + +"The gentleman insisted upon forcing his way in, sir," he explained +softly. "I wished him to wait while I brought you his name." + +Maraton smiled and made a little gesture of dismissal. The young man +picked up his hat. He was still hot with anger. Maraton pointed to the +room on the threshold of which the girl was still standing. + +"If you wish to speak to me," he said, "I am quite at your service. +Only it is a little late for a visit, isn't it? And yours seems to be a +rather unceremonious way, of insisting upon it. Who are you?" + +The young man stood and stared at his questioner. He was wearing a blue +serge suit, obviously ready-made, thick boots, a doubtful collar, a +machine-knitted silk tie of vivid colour. He had curly fair hair, a +sharp face with narrow eyes, thick lips and an indifferent complexion. + +"Are you Maraton?" he demanded. + +"I am," Maraton admitted. "And you?" + +"I am Richard Graveling, M.P.," the young man announced, with a certain +emphasis on those last two letters,--"M.P. for Poplar East. We +expected you at the Clarion to-night." + +"I had other business," Maraton remarked calmly. + +The young man appeared a trifle disconcerted. + +"I don't see what business you can have here till we've talked things +out and laid our plans," he declared. "I am secretary of the committee +appointed to meet and confer with you. Peter Dale is chairman, of +course. There are five of us. We expected you 'round to-night. You +got our telegram at Liverpool?" + +"Certainly," Maraton admitted. "It did not, however, suit my plans to +accept your invitation. I had a message from Mr. Foley, begging me to +see him to-night. I have been to his house." + +The young man distinctly scowled. + +"So Foley's been getting at you, has he?" + +Maraton's face was inscrutable but there was, for a moment, a dangerous +flash in his eyes. + +"I had some conversation with him this evening. + +"What did he want?" Graveling asked bluntly. + +Maraton raised his eyebrows. He turned to the girl. + +"Do you know Mr. Graveling?" + +The young man scowled. Julia smiled but there was a shadow of trouble +in her face. + +"Naturally," she replied. "Mr. Graveling and I are fellow workers." + +"Yes, we are that," the young man declared pointedly, "that and a little +more, I hope. To tell you the truth, I followed Miss Thurnbrein here, +and I think she'd have done better to have asked for my escort--the +escort of the man she's going to marry--before she came here alone at +this time of night." Mr. Graveling's ill-humour was explained. He was +of the order of those to whom the ability to conceal their feelings is +not given, and he was obviously in a temper. Maraton's face remained +impassive. The girl, however, stood suddenly erect. There was a vivid +spot of colour in her cheeks. + +"You had better keep to the truth, Richard Graveling!" she cried +fearlessly. "I have never promised to marry you, or if I have, it was +under certain conditions. You had no right to follow me here." + +The young man opened his lips and closed them again. He was scarcely +capable of speech. The very intensity of his anger seemed to invest the +little scene with a peculiar significance. The girl had the air of one +who has proclaimed her freedom. The face of the man who glared at her +was distorted with unchained passions. In the background, Maraton stood +with tired but expressionless countenance, and the air of one who +listens to a quarrel between children, a quarrel in which he has no +concern. + +"It is not fair," Julia continued, "to discuss a purely personal matter +here. You can walk home with me if you care to, Richard Graveling, but +all that I have to say to you, I prefer to say here. I never promised +to marry you. You have always chosen to take it for granted, and I have +let you speak of it because I was indifferent, because I have never +chosen to think of such matters, because my thoughts have been wholly, +wholly dedicated to the greatest cause in the world. To-night you have +forced yourself upon me. You have done yourself harm, not good. You +have surprised the truth in my heart. It is clear to me that I--cannot +marry you; I never could. I shall not change. Now let us go back to +our work hand in hand, if you will, but that other matter is closed +between us forever." + +She turned to say farewell to Maraton, but Graveling interposed himself +between them. His voice shook and there were evil things in his +distorted face. + +"To-night, for the first time," he exclaimed hoarsely, "you speak in +this fashion! Before, even if you were indifferent, marriage at least +seemed possible to you. To-night you say that the truth has come to +you. You look at me with different eyes. You draw back. You begin to +feel, to understand. You are a woman to-night! Why? Answer me that! +Why? Why to-night? Why not before? Why is it that to-night you have +awakened? I will know! Look at me." + +She was taken unawares, assailed suddenly, not only by his words but by +those curious new sensations, her own, yet unfamiliar to her. It was +civil war. A part of herself was in league with her accuser. She felt +the blushes stain her cheeks. She looked imploringly at Maraton for +help. He smiled at her reassuringly, delightfully. + +"Children," he expostulated, "this is absurd! Off with you to your +homes. These are small matters of which you speak." + +His hands were courteously laid upon both of them. He led them to the +door and pointed eastwards through the darkness. + +"Think of the morning. Think of the human beings who wake in a few +hours, only to bend their bodies once more to the yoke. The other +things are but trifles." + +She looked back at him from the corner of the Square, a straight, +impassive figure in a little halo of soft light. There was a catch in +her heart. Her companion's words were surely spoken in some foreign +tongue. + +"We have got to have this out, Julia," he was saying. "If anybody or +anything has come between us, there's going to be trouble. If that's +the great Maraton, with his swagger evening clothes and big house, well, +he's not the man for our job, and I shan't mind being the first to tell +him so." + +She glanced at him, for a moment, almost in wonder. Was he indeed so +small, so insignificant? + +"There are many paths," she said softly, "which lead to the light. Ours +may be best suited to ourselves but it may not be the only one. It is +not for you or for me to judge." + +Richard Graveling talked on, doing his cause harm with every word he +uttered. Julia relapsed into silence; soon she did not even hear his +words. They rode for some distance on an omnibus through the city, now +shrouded and silent. At the corner of the street where she had her +humble lodgings, he left her. + +"Well, I have had my say," he declared. "Think it over. I'll meet you +out of work to-morrow, if I can. We shall have had a talk with Mr. +Maraton by that time!" + +She left him with a smile upon her lips. His absence seemed like an +immense, a wonderful relief. Once more her thoughts were free. + + + +CHAPTER V + +But were they free, after all, these thoughts of hers? + +Julia rose at daybreak and, fully dressed, stood watching the red light +eastwards staining the smoke-hung city. Her little room with its plain +deal furniture, its uncarpeted floor, was the perfection of neatness, +her bed already made, her little pots of flowers upon the window-sill, +jealously watered. In the still smaller sitting-room, visible through +the open door, she could hear the hissing of her kettle upon the little +spirit lamp. Her hat and gloves were already out. Everything was in +readiness for her early start. + +She had slept very much as usual, and had got up only a little earlier +than she was accustomed to. Yet there was a difference. Only so short +a time ago, the incidents of her own daily life, even the possibilities +connected with it, had seemed utterly insignificant, so little worthy of +notice. Morning and night her heart had been full of the sufferings of +those amongst whom she worked. The flagrant, hateful injustice of this +ill-arranged world had throbbed in her pulses, absorbed her interests, +had occupied the whole horizon of her life. To marry Richard Graveling +might sometime be advisable, in the interests of their joint labours. +And suddenly it had become impossible. It had become utterly +impossible! Why? + +The red light in the sky had faded, the sun was now fully risen. Julia +looked out of her window and was dimly conscious of the change. The +heart which had throbbed for the sorrows of others was to thrill now on +its own account. It was something mysterious which had happened to her, +something against which she was later on to fight passionately, which +was creeping like poison through her veins. With her splendid +womanhood, her intense consciousness of life, how was it possible for +her to escape? + +There was an impatient tap at the door and Aaron came in. She +recognised him with a little cry of surprise. He was paler than ever +and grim with his night's Vigil. The lines under his eyes were deeper, +his skin seemed sallower. He had the dishevelled look of one who is +still in his attire of the preceding day. + +"You have heard?" he exclaimed. "We stayed at the Clarion till three. +Maraton never even sent us a message. Yet they say that he is in +London. They even declare that he was at Downing Street last night." + +"I know that he was there," Julia said quietly. + +"You know? You? But they were all sure of it." + +He dashed his cap into a corner. + +"Maraton is our man," he continued passionately. "No one shall rob us +of him. He should have come to us. Downing Street--blast Downing +Street!" + +"There is no one in this world," she told him gently, "who will move +Maraton from his will. I know. I have seen him." + +He stared at her, hollow-eyed, amazed. + +"You? You have seen him?" + +She nodded. + +"I heard by accident of the house he had taken the house where he means +to live. I went there and I waited. Later, Richard Graveling came +there, too." + +The youth struck the table before him. His eyes were filled with tears. + +"All night I waited!" he cried. "I could not sit still. I could +scarcely breathe. Tell me what he is like, Julia? Tell me what he +looks like? Is he strong? Does he look strong enough for the work?" + +She smiled at him reassuringly. + +"Yes, he looks strong and he looks kind. For the rest--" + +"There is something! Tell me what it is--at once?" + +"Foolish! Well, he is unlike Richard Graveling and the others, unlike +us. Why not? He is cultivated, educated, well-dressed." + +The youth, for a moment, was aghast. + +"You don't mean--that he is a gentleman?" + +"Not in the sense you fear," she assured him. "Remember that his work +is more far-reaching than ours. It takes him everywhere; he must be fit +for everything. Sit down now, dear Aaron. You are tired. See, my +morning tea is ready, and there is bread and butter. You must eat and +drink. Maraton you will surely see later in the day. I do not think +that he will disappoint you." + +Aaron sat down at the table. He ate and drank ravenously. He was, in +fact, half starved but barely conscious of it. + +"He spoke of the great things?" + +Julia shook her head. She was busy cutting bread and butter. + +"Scarcely at all. What chance was there? And then Richard Graveling +came." + +"They were friends? They took to one another?" the young man asked +eagerly. + +She hesitated. + +"I am not sure about that. Graveling was in one of his tempers. He was +rude, and he said things to me which I felt obliged to contradict." + +"They did not quarrel?" + +She laughed softly. + +"Imagine Maraton quarrelling! I think that he is above such pettiness, +Aaron." + +"Graveling is a good fellow and a hard worker," Aaron declared. "The +one thing which he lacks is enthusiasm. He doesn't really feel. He +does his work well because it is his work, not because of what it leads +to." + +"You are right," Julia admitted. "He has no enthusiasm. That is why he +never moves people when he speaks. I must go soon, Aaron. Will you lie +down and rest for a time here?" + +"Rest!" He looked at her scornfully. "How can one rest! Tell me where +this house of his is? I shall go and wait outside. I must see him." + +She glanced at the clock, and paused for a moment to think. + +"Aaron," she decided, "I will be late for once. Come with me and I will +take you to him. He was kind to me last night. We will go together to +his house and wait till he is down. Then I will tell him how you have +longed for his coming, and perhaps--" + +"Perhaps what?" Aaron interrupted. "You can't escape from it! You have +promised. You shall take me! I am ready to go. Perhaps what?" + +"I was only thinking," she went on, "you find it, I know, impossible to +settle down to work anywhere. But with him, if he could find +something--" + +Aaron sprang to his feet. + +"I would work my fingers to the bone!" he cried. "It is a glorious +idea, Julia. I have to give up the collecting--my bicycle has gone. +Let us start." + +They went out together into the streets, thinly peopled, as yet, for it +was barely six o'clock. Julia would have loitered, but her brother +forced her always onward. She laughed as they arrived at the Square +where Maraton lived. Every house they passed was shuttered and silent. + +"How absurd we are!" she murmured. "He will not be up for hours. Very +likely even the servants will not be astir." + +"Servants!" + +Aaron repeated the word, frowning. She only smiled. + +"You mustn't be foolish, dear. Don't have prejudices. Remember that we +are walking along a very narrow way. We have climbed only a few steps +of the hill. He is more than half-way to the top. Things are different +with him. Don't judge; only wait." + +She rang the bell of the house a little timidly. The door was opened +without any delay by a man servant in sombre, every-day clothes. + +"We wish to see Mr. Maraton," Julia announced. "He is not up yet, of +course, but might we come in and wait?" + +"Mr. Maraton is in his study, madam," the man answered. + +He disappeared and beckoned them, a moment or so later, to follow him. +They were shown into a much smaller apartment at the rear of the house. +Maraton was sitting before a desk covered with papers, with a breakfast +tray by his side. He looked up at their entrance, but his face was +inexpressive. He did not even smile. The sunlight died out of Julia's +face, and her heart sank. + +"I am sorry," she began haltingly. "I ought not to have come again, I +know. But it is my brother. Night and day he has thought of nothing +else but your coming." + +Aaron seemed to have forgotten his timidity. He crossed the room and +stood before Maraton's desk. His face seemed to have caught some of the +freshness of the early morning. He was no longer the sallow, pinched +starveling. He was like a young prophet whose eyes are burning with +enthusiasm. + +"You have come to help us," he asserted. "You are Maraton!" + +"I have come to help you," Maraton replied. "I have come to do what I +can. It isn't an easy task in this country, you know, to do anything, +but I think in the end we shall succeed. If you are Julia Thurnbrein's +brother, you should know something of the work." + +"I am only one of the multitude," Aaron sighed. "I haven't the brains +to organise. I talk sometimes but I get too excited. There are +others--many others--who speak more convincingly, but no one feels more +than I feel, no one prays for the better times more fervently than I. It +isn't for myself--it isn't for ourselves, even; it's for the children, +it's for the next generation." + +Maraton held out his hand suddenly. + +"My young friend," he said, "you have spoken the words I like to hear. +Some of my helpers I have found, at times, selfish. They are satisfied +with the small things that lie close at hand, some material benefit +which really is of no account at all. That isn't the work for us to +engage in. Sit down. Sit down, Miss Julia. You have breakfasted?" + +"Before we left," Julia assured him. + +"Never mind, you shall breakfast again," Maraton declared. "It is a +good augury that the first words I have heard from one of ourselves have +been words such as your brother has spoken. To tell you the truth, I +came over here in fear and trembling. Some of your leaders have +frightened me a little." + +"You mean--" Aaron began. + +"That they don't hold their heads high enough. I am not for strikes +that finish with a shilling a week more for the men; or for Acts of +Parliament which dole out tardy charity. I am for the bigger things. +Last night I lay awake, thinking--your friend Richard Graveling set me +thinking. We must aim high. I am here for no man's individual good. I +am here to plan not pinpricks but destruction." + +The servant brought in more breakfast. They sat and talked, Maraton +asking many questions concerning the men whom he would meet later in the +day. Then he looked regretfully at the great pile of letters still +before him. + +"I shall need a secretary," he said slowly. + +Aaron sprang to his feet. + +"Take me," he begged. "I have been in a newspaper office. I am slow at +shorthand but I can type like lightning. I will work morning and night. +I want nothing but a little food if I may go about with you and hear you +speak. Oh, take me!" + +Maraton smiled. + +"You are engaged," he declared. "Go out and hire a typewriter and bring +it here in a cab. You can start at once, I hope?" + +"This minute," Aaron agreed, his voice breaking with excitement. + +Maraton passed him money and took them both to the door. + +"Tell me about to-night?" Julia asked. "Will you go to the Clarion? +Shall you speak?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"No. I have written to the men whom I am anxious to meet here, and +asked them to come to me. I should prefer not to speak at all until I +go to Manchester. I have plans, but I must not speak of them for the +moment." + +"I had hoped so to hear you speak to-night," she murmured, and her face +fell. + +They stood together at the door and looked out across the green +tree-tops towards the city. + +"The time has gone by for speeches," he said quietly. "Perhaps before +very long you may hear greater things than words." + +They hurried off--Julia to the factory, Aaron to a typewriting depot in +New Oxford Street. At the corner of the Square they parted. + +"Are you satisfied?" she asked. + +His face was all aglow. + +"Satisfied! Julia, you told me nothing! He is wonderful--splendid!" + +She climbed on to a 'bus with a little smile upon her lips. The long +day's work before her seemed like a holiday task. Then she laughed +softly as she found herself repeating her brother's fervid words: + +"Maraton has come!" + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Maraton spent three hours and a half that morning in conclave with the +committee appointed for his reception, and for that three hours and a +half he was profoundly bored. Every one had a good deal to say except +Richard Graveling, who sat at the end of the table with folded arms and +a scowl upon his face. The only other man who scarcely opened his lips +during the entire time, was Maraton himself. Peter Dale, Labour Member +for Newcastle, was the first to make a direct appeal. He was a +stalwart, grim-looking man, with heavy grey eyebrows and grey beard. He +had been a Member of Parliament for some years and was looked upon as +the practical leader of his party. + +"We've heard a lot of you, Mr. Maraton," he declared, "of your fine +fighting methods and of your gift of speech. We'll hear more of that, I +hope, at Manchester. We are, so to speak, strangers as yet, but there's +one thing I will say for you, and that is that you're a good listener. +You've heard all that we've got to say and you've scarcely made a +remark. You won't object to my saying that we're expecting something +from you in the way of initiative, not to say leadership?" + +Maraton glanced down the table. There were five men seated there, and, +a little apart from all of them, David Ross, who had refused to be +shaken off. Excepting him only, they were well-fed and substantial +looking men. Maraton had studied them carefully through half-closed +eyes during all the time of their meeting, and the more he had studied +them, the more disappointed he had become. There was not one of them +with the eyes of a dreamer. There was not one of them who appeared +capable of dealing with any subject save from his own absolutely +material and practical point of view. + +Maraton from the first had felt a seal laid upon his lips. Now, when +the time had come for him to speak, he did so with hesitation, almost +with reluctance. + +"As yet," he began, "there is very little for me to talk about. You +are, I understand, you five, a committee appointed by the Labour Party +to confer with me as to the best means of promulgating our beliefs. You +have each told me your views. You would each, apparently, like me to +devote myself to your particular district for the purpose of propagating +a strike which shall result in a trifling increase of wages." + +"And a coal strike, I say," Peter Dale interrupted, "is the logical +first course. We've been threatening it for two years and it's time we +brought it off. I can answer for the miners of the north country. We +have two hundred and seventy thousand pounds laid by and the Unions are +spoiling for a fight. Another eighteen-pence would make life a +different thing for some of our pitmen. And the masters can afford it, +too. Sixteen and a half per cent is the average dividend on the largest +collieries around us." + +A small man, with gimlet-like black eyes and a heavy moustache, at which +he had been tugging nervously during Peter Dale's remarks, plunged into +the discussion. His name was Abraham Weavel and he came from Sheffield. + +"Coal's all very well," he declared, "but I speak for the ironfounders. +There's orders enough in Leeds and Sheffield to keep the furnaces ablaze +for two years, and the masters minting money at it. Our wages ain't to +be compared with the miners. We've twenty thousand in Sheffield that +aren't drawing twenty-five shillings a week and they're about fed up +with it. We've our Unions, too, and money to spare, and I tell you +they're beginning to ask what's the use of sending a Labour Member to +Parliament and having nothing come of it." + +A grey-whiskered man, who had the look of a preacher, struck the table +before him with a sudden vigour. + +"You remember who I am, Mr. Maraton? My name's Borden--Samuel +Borden--and I am from the Potteries. It's all very well for Weavel and +Dale there to talk, but there's no labour on God's earth so underpaid as +the china and glass worker. We may not have the money saved--that's +simply because it takes my people all they can do to keep from +starvation. I've figures here that'll prove what I say. I'll go so far +as this--there isn't a worse paid industry than mine in the United +Kingdom." + +There was a moment's silence. Abraham Weavel leaned back in his chair +and yawned. Peter Dale made a grimace of dissent. Maraton turned to +one of the little company who as yet had scarcely opened his lips--a +thin, ascetic-looking, middle-aged man, who wore gold spectacles, and +who had an air of refinement which was certainly not shared by any of +the others. + +"And you, Mr. Culvain," he enquired, "you represent no particular +industry, I believe? You were a journalist, were you not, before you +entered Parliament?" + +"I was and am a journalist," Culvain assented. "Since you have asked my +opinion, I must confess that I am all for more peaceful methods. These +Labour troubles which inconvenience and bring loss upon the community, +do harm to our cause. I am in favour of a vigorous course of platform +education through all the country districts of England. I think that +the principles of Socialism are not properly understood by the working +classes." + +"If one might make a comment upon all that you have said," Maraton +remarked, "I might point out to you that there is a certain selfishness +in your individual suggestions. Three of you are in favour of a +gigantic strike, each in his own constituency. Mr. Culvain, who is a +writer and an orator, prefers the methods which appeal most to him. Yet +even these strikes which you propose are puny affairs. You want to wage +war for the sake of a few shillings. We ought to fight, if at all, for +a greater and more splendid principle. It isn't a shilling or two more +a week that the people want. It's a share--a share to which they are, +without the shadow of a doubt, entitled--in the direct product of their +labour." + +"That's sound enough," Peter Dale admitted. "How are you going to get +it?" + +"You ask for too much," Weavel observed, "and you get nothing." + +"It is never wise," Culvain suggested quietly, "to have the public +against one." + +Maraton rose a little abruptly to his feet. He had the air of one eager +to dismiss the subject. + +"Gentlemen," he announced, "I've heard your views. In a few days' time +you shall hear mine. Only let me tell you this. To me you all seem to +be working and thinking on very narrow lines. Your object seems to be +the securing of small individual benefits for your individual +constituents. I think that if we get to work together in this country, +there must be something more national in our aspirations. That is all I +have to say for the present. As I think you know, I intend to make a +pronouncement of my own views at Manchester." + +They all took their leave a little later. Maraton himself saw them out +and watched them across the Square. Somehow or other, his depression +had visibly increased as he turned away. He had come into contact +lately, on the other side of the world, with a different order of +person--men and women, too, passionately, strenuously in earnest. They +were well-fed, prosperous individuals, these whom he had just dismissed. +Their politics were their business, their position as Members of +Parliament a source of unmixed joy to all of them; hard-headed men, very +likely, good each in his own department; beyond that, nothing. + +He returned presently to his study, where Aaron was already at work, +typing letters. + +"So that is your committee of Labour Members," Maraton remarked, +throwing himself into an easy chair. + +Aaron looked up. + +"They are all sound men," he declared. "Peter Dale, too, is a fine +speaker." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Yet it isn't from them," he said quietly, "that I can take a mandate. +I must go to the people. I couldn't even talk to them to-day. I +couldn't take them into my confidence. I couldn't show them the things +I have seen perhaps only in my dreams. I don't suppose they would have +listened. . . . How many more letters, Aaron?" + +"Thirty-seven, sir." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I shall walk for an hour or so," he announced. "Get them ready for me +to sign when I come in. Have you a home, young man?" + +"None, sir," Aaron admitted. + +"Excellent!" Maraton declared cheerfully. "These people with homes lose +sight of the real thing. What do you think of your Labour Members, +honestly, Aaron? Ah, I can see that they have been little gods to you! +Little tin gods, I am afraid, Aaron. Do they know what it is to go +hungry, I wonder? Not often! . . . Get on with your letters. I am +going out." + +Maraton walked to the Park and sat down underneath the trees. There +were a fair number of people about, notwithstanding the hot weather, and +very soon he recognised Lady Elisabeth. She was walking back and forth +along one of the side-walks, with a little, fussy woman, golden-haired, +and wearing a gown of the brightest blue. Maraton watched them, at +first idly and then with interest. Lady Elisabeth, in her cool muslin +gown and simple hat, seemed to be moving in a world of her own, into +which her companion's chatter but rarely penetrated. She walked with a +slow and delicate grace, not without a characteristic touch of languor. +Once or twice she looked around her--one might almost have imagined that +she was seeking escape from her companion--and on one of these occasions +her eyes met Maraton's. She stopped short. They were within a few feet +of one another, and Maraton rose to his feet. She lowered her parasol +and held out her hand. + +"Only a very short time ago," she told him, "I was wondering what you +were doing. You know that my uncle is expecting to see or hear from you +this afternoon?" + +"I know," he admitted. "To tell you the truth, I came out here to +think. I could not quite make up my mind what to say to him." + +"It is strange that we should meet here," she continued, "when Mr. +Foley was talking to me about you for so long this morning. He wished +that he had laid more emphasis upon the fact that your coming to us at +Lyndwood committed you to nothing. No one is the worse off for hearing +every point of view, is he? My uncle will feel so much happier if he +really has had the opportunity of having a long, uninterrupted talk with +you." + +Maraton smiled pleasantly. They were standing in a crowded part of the +walk and almost unconsciously they commenced to move slowly along +together. Lady Elisabeth turned to her companion. + +"You must let me introduce Mr. Maraton to you," she said. "This is Mr. +Maraton--Mrs. Bollington-Watts." + +The little woman leaned forward and looked at Maraton with undisguised +curiosity. + +"Forgive my starting at your name, won't you, Mr. Maraton?" she began. +"It is uncommon, isn't it, and I'm only just over from the States. I +dare say you read about all those awful doings in Chicago." + +Maraton, without direct reply, inclined his head. Mrs. +Bollington-Watts continued volubly. + +"My brother is a judge out in Chicago. It was he who signed the warrant +for Maraton's arrest. I'm afraid our people are getting much too +scared, nowadays, about that sort of thing. We don't seem to be able to +enforce our laws like you do over here. They are all saying now that it +ought to have been served and the man shot if there had been any +resistance." + +"In which case," Maraton remarked, "I should not have had the pleasure +of making your acquaintance, Mrs. Bollington-Watts." + +She stared at him for a moment, speechless through sheer lack of +comprehension. Then she glanced at Lady Elisabeth and the truth +dawned upon her. It was more than she could grapple with at first, +however. + +"You? But Lady Elisabeth--? But you, Mr. Maraton--are you really the +man who mur--who was associated with all that trouble in Chicago?" + +"I am, without a doubt, the man," Maraton assented cheerfully. "I am an +enemy of your class, Mrs. Bollington-Watts. Your husband is the steel +millionaire, isn't he? And I am also a Socialist of the most militant +and modern type. Nevertheless, I can assure you, for these few moments +you are perfectly safe." + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts drew a little breath. The remarkable +adaptability of her race came to her rescue; her point of view swung +round. + +"Why," she declared, "I have never been so interested in my life. This +is perfectly thrilling. Mr. Maraton, I am having a few friends come in +to-morrow evening. I should dearly love to give them a surprise. +Couldn't you just drop in for an hour? Or, better still, if you could +dine? I have taken Lenchester House for a year. My, it would be good +to see their faces!" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Thank you very much, Mrs. Bollington-Watts," he said, "but my visit to +England is one of business only. To be frank with you, I have no social +existence, nor any desire to cultivate one." + +"But you know Lady Elisabeth," the little woman protested. + +"I have the honour of knowing Lady Elisabeth incidentally," Maraton +replied. "If you will excuse me now--" + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts turned aside to talk vigorously to a passer-by. +Lady Elisabeth laid her hand upon his arm. + +"Mr. Maraton," she said softly, "do make up your mind. Please come to +Lyndwood." + +Her blue eyes were raised to his, fearlessly, appealingly. Maraton was +more than ever conscious of the delicate perfection of her person, her +clear skin, her silky brown hair. She was something new to him in her +sex. He knew quite well that a request from her was an unusual thing. + +"I will come, Lady Elisabeth," he promised gravely. "Beyond that, of +course, I can say nothing. But I will come to Lyndwood." + +The slight anxiety passed from her face like a cloud. Her smile was +positively brilliant. + +"It is charming of you," she whispered. + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts was once more free and by their side. They moved +on to the corner and Maraton was on the point of taking his leave. Just +at that moment Mrs. Bollington-Watts gave a little cry of amazement. A +coach was drawn up by the side of the path, and a young man who was +driving it, was looking down at them. Mrs. Bollington-Watts stopped +and waved her hand at him almost frantically. + +"Why, it's Freddy Lawes!" she exclaimed.. "Why, Freddy, what on earth +are you doing here? If this isn't a surprise! They told me you never +moved from Paris, and I thought I'd have to come right over there to see +you. . . . Well, I declare! Freddy!--why, Freddy, what's the +matter?" + +The words of Mrs. Bollington-Watts seemed as though they had been +spoken into empty air. The young man was leaning forward in his place, +the reins loosely held in his hand, and a groom was already upon the +path, recovering the whip which had slipped from his fingers. His eyes +were fixed not upon Mrs. Bollington-Watts nor upon Lady Elisabeth, but +upon Maraton. He was a young man of harmless and commonplace appearance +but his features were at that moment transformed. His mouth was +strained and quivering, his eyes were lit with something very much like +horror. Some words certainly left his lips, but they did not carry to +the hearing of any one of those three people. He looked at Maraton with +the fierce, terrified intentness of one who looks upon a spectre! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts' shrill voice once more broke the silence, which, +although it was a matter of seconds only, was not without a certain +peculiar dramatic quality. + +"Say, what's wrong with you, Freddy? You don't think I'm a ghost, do +you? Can't you come down and talk?" + +The spell, whatever it may have been, had passed. The young man lifted +his hat and leaned over the side of the coach. + +"I won't get down just now, Amy," he said. "Tell me where you are and +I'll come and see you. How's Richard?" + +Maraton, obeying a gesture from Lady Elisabeth, moved away with her, +leaving Mrs. Bollington-Watts absorbed in a flood of family questions +and answers. + +"Come back with me now, won't you?" she asked, a little abruptly. "My +uncle is restless and unwell this afternoon, and it will perhaps relieve +him to have your decision." + +"What about Mrs. Bollington-Watts?" + +Lady Elisabeth glanced at him for a moment. Her eyebrows were slightly +lifted. + +"If you can bear to lose her, I'm sure I can. She is really rather a +dear person but she is very intense. She will meet a crowd of people +she knows, directly, and quite forget that we have slipped away. Shall +we go down Birdcage Walk, or if you are in a hurry, perhaps you would +prefer a taxi?" + +He shook his head. + +"I prefer to walk." + +He did not at first prove a very entertaining companion. They proceeded +for some distance almost in silence. + +"If I were a curious person," Lady Elisabeth remarked, "I should +certainly be puzzling my brain as to what there could have been about +that very frivolous young man to call such an expression into your face. +And how terrified he was to see you!" + +Maraton smiled grimly. + +"You have observation, I perceive, Lady Elisabeth." + +"Powers of observation but no curiosity, thank goodness," Lady Elisabeth +declared. "Perhaps that is just as well, for I can see that you are +going to turn out to be a very mysterious person." + +"In some respects I believe that I am," he assented equably. "My +peculiar beliefs are responsible for a good deal, you see--and certain +circumstances. . . . But tell me--we have both agreed to be +frank--why have you changed your attitude towards me so completely? I +scarcely dared to hope even for your recognition this morning." + +She was suddenly thoughtful. + +"That was the very question I was asking myself when we crossed the +street just now," she remarked, with a faint smile. + +Maraton was conscious of a curious and undefined sense of pleasure in +her words. In the act of crossing he had held her arm for a few +moments, and though her assent to his physical guidance had been purely +negative, there was yet something about it which had given him a vague +pleasure. Instinctively he knew that she was of the order of women to +whom the merest touch from a man whom they disliked would have been +torture. + +"I think," she went on, "that it is because I am trying to adopt my +uncle's point of view towards you." + +"And what is your uncle's point of view?" + +"He believes you," she declared, "to be a very dangerous person, a rabid +enthusiast with brains and also stability--the most difficult order of +person in the world to deal with." + +"Anything else?" + +"He believes you," she continued, "to be harmless enough at a wholesome +period of our country's history. Just now, he told me yesterday, that +he considered it was within your power to bring something very much like +ruin upon the country." + +Maraton was silent. He felt singularly indisposed for argument. Every +condition of life just then seemed too pleasant. They were walking in +the shade, and a soft west wind was rustling in the trees above their +heads. + +"There are, after all," she said, "so many happy people in the world. +Is it worth while to drag down the pillars, to bring so much misery into +the world for the sake of a dream?" + +"I am no dreamer," he insisted quietly. "It is possible to make +absolute laws for the future with the same precision as one can extract +examples from the history of the past." + +"But human nature," she objected, "is always a shifting quality." + +"Only in detail. The heart and lungs of it are the same in all ages." + +They crossed the road and turned into St. James's Park. He paused for +a moment to look at the front of Buckingham Palace. + +"A hateful sight to you, of course," she murmured. + +"Not in the least," he assured her. "On the contrary, I think that the +actual government of this country is wonderful. I suppose my creed of +life would command a halter from any one who heard it, but I raise my +hat always to your King." + +"It is going to take me ages," she sighed, "to understand you." + +"I will supply you with the necessary signposts," he promised. "Perhaps +you will find then that the task will become almost too easy. For me I +am afraid it will prove too short." + +She turned her head and looked at him curiously. There was something +provocative in the curl of her lips and in her monosyllabic question. + +"Why?" + +"Because when you have arrived at a complete understanding," he +declared, "I fear we shall have reached the parting of our ways." + +She looked steadfastly ahead. + +"Wouldn't that rather rest with you?" she asked. + +They passed a flower-barrow wonderfully laden, and she half stopped with +a little exclamation. + +"Oh, I must have some of those white roses!" she begged. "They fit in +at this moment with one of my only superstitions." + +He bought her a great handful. She held them in both hands and gave him +her parasol to carry. + +"Mine is an inherited superstition, so I will not be ashamed of it," she +told him. "We have always believed that white roses bring happiness, +especially if they come accidentally at a critical moment." + +He glanced behind at the retreating figure of the flower woman. + +"If happiness is so easily purchased," he said, "what a pity it is that +I did not buy the barrowful!" + +"It isn't a matter of quantity at all," she assured him. "One blossom +would have been enough and you were really frightfully extravagant." + +She drifted into silence. They were walking eastwards now, and before +them was the great yellow haze which hung over the sun-enveloped city, a +haze which stretched across the whole arc of the heavens, and underneath +which were toiling the millions to whom his life was consecrated. For a +moment the grim inappropriateness of these hours struck him with a pang +of remorse. He felt almost like a traitor to be walking with this slim, +beautiful girl whose face was hidden from him now in the mass of white +blossoms. And then his sense of proportion came to the rescue. He knew +that he had but one desire--to work out his ends by the most effective +means. It did not even disturb him to reflect that for the first time +for many years he had found pleasure in what was merely an interlude. + +"We turn here," she directed. "You see, we are close to home now. My +uncle will be so glad to see you, Mr. Maraton, and I cannot tell you +how delighted I am that you are coming to Lyndwood." + +"I only hope," he said a little gravely, "that your uncle will not +expect too much from my coming. It seems churlish to refuse, and even +though our views are as far apart as the poles, I know that your uncle +means well." + +She smiled at him delightfully. + +"I refuse to be depressed even by your solemn looks," she declared. "It +is my twenty-fourth birthday to-day and I am still young enough to cling +to my optimism." + +"Your birthday," he remarked. "I should have brought you an offering." + +She held up the roses. + +"Nothing in the world," she assured him softly, "could have given me +more pleasure than these. Now I am going to take you first into a +little den where you will not be disturbed, and then fetch my uncle," +she added, as they passed into the house. "I shall pray for your mutual +conversion. You won't mind a very feminine room, will you? Just now +there are certain to be callers at any moment, and my uncle's rooms are +liable to all manner of intrusions." + +She threw open the door and ushered him into what seemed indeed to be a +little fairy chamber, a chamber with yellow walls and yellow rug, white +furniture, oddments of china and photographs, silver-grey etchings, +water-colour landscapes, piles of books and magazines. On a small table +stood a yellow Sèvres vase, full of roses. + +"It's a horrible place for a man to sit in," she said, looking around +her. "You must take that wicker chair and throw away as many cushions +as you like. Now I am going to fetch my uncle, and remember, please," +she concluded, looking back at him from the door, "if I have seemed +frivolous this morning, I am not always so. More than anything I am +looking forward, down at Lyndwood, to have you, if you will, talk to me +seriously." + +"Shall I dare to argue with you, I wonder?" he asked. + +She smiled at him. + +"Why not? A matter of courage?" + +"The bravest person in the world," he declared, "remembers always that +little proverb about discretion." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The conference between Mr. Foley and Maraton was brief enough. The +former arrived a few moments after his niece's departure. + +"I have come," Maraton announced, as they shook hands, "to accept your +invitation to Lyndwood. You understand, I am sure, that that commits me +to nothing?" + +Mr. Foley's expression was one of intense relief. + +"Naturally," he replied. "I quite understand that. I am delighted to +think that you are coming at all. May I ask whether you have conferred +with your friends about the matter?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"I have not even mentioned it to them. I met what I understand to be a +committee of the Labour Party this morning--a Mr. Dale, Abraham +Weavel, Culvain, Samuel Borden and David Ross. Those were the names so +far as I can remember. I did not mention my proposed visit to you at +all. There seemed to me to be no necessity. I am subject to no one +here." + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"They won't like it," he declared frankly. + +"Their liking or disliking it will not affect the situation in the +least," Maraton assured him. "I shall come, without a doubt. It will +interest me to hear what you have to say, although unfortunately I +cannot hold out the slightest hope--" + +"That is entirely understood," Mr. Foley interrupted. "Now how will +you come? Lyndwood Park is just sixty miles from London. To-day is +Friday, isn't it? I shall motor down there sometime to-morrow. Why +won't you come down with me?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"If you will excuse me," he said, "I will not fix any time definitely. +I have a good deal of correspondence still to attend to, and there is +one little matter which might keep me in town till the afternoon." + +"Let me send a car up for you," Mr. Foley suggested. + +"Thank you," Maraton replied, "I have already hired one for a time." + +"Then come just at what time suits you," Mr. Foley begged,--"the +sooner the better, of course. Apart from that, I shall be about the +place all day." + +In Buckingham Gate, Maraton came slowly to a standstill. The coach +which he had seen in the Park an hour ago was drawn up in front of a +large hotel. The young man who was driving it had just come down the +steps and was drawing on his gloves. They met almost face to face. + +"Am I to speak to you?" the young man asked. + +"You had better," Maraton assented. "Tell me what you are doing here?" + +"I was bored with Paris," the young man answered. "My friends were all +coming here. I had no idea that we were likely to meet." + +Maraton looked at him thoughtfully. As they stood face to face at that +moment, there was a certain strange likeness between them, a likeness of +the husk only. + +"I do not wish to interfere with your movements," Maraton said calmly. +"Where you are is nothing to me. I proposed that you should remain away +from London simply because I fancied that it would be easier for you to +observe the conditions which exist between us. So long as you remember +them, however, your whereabouts are indifferent to me." + +The young man laughed a little nervously. + +"You're not over-cordial!" + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"The world in which you live," he remarked, "is a training school, I +suppose, for false sentiment. The slight kinship that there is between +us is of no account to me. I simply remind you once more that it is to +your advantage to neither know me or to know of me. Remember that, and +it may be London or Paris or New York--wherever you choose." + +The young man remounted his coach, and Maraton passed on. He walked +without a pause to the square in which his house was situated. Here he +found Aaron hard at work and, sitting down at once, he began to sign his +letters. + +"No end of people have been here," Aaron announced. "I have got rid of +them all." + +"Good!" Maraton said shortly. "By-the-bye, Aaron, isn't there a meeting +to-night at the Clarion?" + +Aaron nodded. + +"David Ross is going to speak. He can move them when he starts. My +sister is going to call here for me, and I thought if you didn't want +me, I'd like to go." + +"We will all go together," Maraton decided. "We can creep in somewhere +at the back, I suppose. I want to hear how they do it." + +The young man's face lit up with joy. + +"There's sure to be lots of people there," he declared, "but we can find +a seat at the back quite easily." + +"What's it all about?" Maraton asked. + +"The proposed boiler-maker's strike," Aaron replied eagerly. "The +meeting is really a meeting of the workpeople at Boulding's. But are +you sure you won't go on the platform, sir?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"That is just what I don't want to do. I want to see what these +meetings are like, what sort of arguments are used, what the spirit of +the people is, if I can. That is what I would really like to find out, +Aaron--the spirit of the people." + +The young man looked up from his work. He was greatly changed during +the last few hours. He was wearing a new suit of clothes and clean +linen; his hair had been cut, his face shaved. Yet in some respects he +was unaltered. His eyes still burned in their sockets, his lips still +quivered. + +"I will tell you what the people are like," he said. "They are like +dumb animals, like sheep. They have suffered so long and so much that +their nerve power is numbed. They lack will, they lack initiative. +They are narrowed down to a daily life which makes of them something +little different from an animal. Yet they can be roused. David Ross +himself has done it, done it like none of those other M.P.'s. I have +seen him carried out of himself. He is like some of these Welshmen and +Salvation Army people when they're half drunk with religion--the words +seem to come to them in a stream. That's how David Ross is sometimes. +But it isn't often any one can get at them." + +"That is what they say over on the other side," he remarked softly. + +"They've got to be in such a state," Aaron continued, "that nothing +appeals to them except some material benefit; a pipe of tobacco or a mug +of beer will stir them more than any dream of freedom. Oh! it's sad to +see them, often. I used to go to the gates at the shipbuilding yard and +watch them come out. Ten years about does for a man there. It's a +short spell." + +Maraton sighed. "Yet they endure," he muttered to himself. + +"Yet they endure," Aaron echoed. "Can't you see why? Don't you know +that it is because they haven't heard the word--the one great word? +That's what they're waiting for--for the prophet to open their eyes and +lead them out of the wilderness. Only just at first it may be that even +his voice will sound in vain. You are sure you won't mind my sister +coming with us, sir? She is so interested and they all know her down +there." + +"It will be an advantage to have your sister," Maraton replied. "There +are many things I should like to ask her." + + + +CHAPTER IX + +At twenty minutes past eight, Maraton, with his two companions, reached +the building in which the meeting was to take place--a plain, +unimposing-looking edifice, built for a chapel, whitewashed inside, but +with plastered walls and bare floors. The room was almost packed, and +it was with some difficulty that they found seats in the back row. +David Ross, Peter Dale and Graveling occupied chairs on the platform. +Between them, Julia and Aaron kept Maraton informed as to the identity +of each newcomer. + +"That's Mr. Docker, who is going to speak now," the latter declared in +an excited whisper. "He is a fighting man. It's he who has manoeuvred +this strike, they say. Now he's off." + +Mr. Docker has risen to his feet amidst a little hoarse cheering. For +a quarter of an hour or more, he spoke fluently and convincingly. It +appeared from his statements that boiler-makers were the worst paid +mechanics in the universe, that it was he who had discovered this, that +it was he who had drawn up the ultimatum which had been presented to the +masters and refused. His peroration was friendly but appealing. + +"There are some amongst Boulding's people," he wound up, "who, they tell +me, are satisfied. If so, I hope they are not here. They haven't any +place here. To them I would say--'If you are satisfied with twenty-four +shillings a week, well, don't waste a penny in subscribing to the +Unions, but go and spend your twenty-four shillings a week and live on +it and enjoy it, and get fat on it if you can.' But to those others I +want to say that it's just as easy to get twenty-eight. The masters +don't want you to strike just now. You only have to be firm and you can +get what's fair and right." + +A man rose up in the hall. + +"Is it true," he asked, "that Boulding's won't pay the advance?--that +they are going to close the doors to-morrow if we insist upon it?" + +"It is true," Mr. Docker answered. "Are you afraid of that?" + +The man hesitated. + +"I don't know as 'afraid' is exactly the word," he said, "but I don't +fancy being out of work for a month or so, and perhaps losing my job at +the end of it. Fifteen bob a week from the Union won't keep my little +lot." + +There was a murmur of applause. Docker pointed with threatening +forefinger to the man who had just sat down. + +"It's the likes of him," he declared, "who keep down wages, who make +slaves of us! The likes of him, who haven't the pluck to ask for what +they might get at any time!" + +He plunged into facts and figures, and Maraton more than once yawned. +He seemed to find more interest in watching the faces of the audience +than in listening to the stock arguments which were being thrown at +their heads. A little cloud of tobacco smoke hung about the room. +There were few women present, and most of the men were smoking. On the +whole they were a very earnest gathering. There were very few there who +were not deeply interested. Julia was listening to every word, her head +resting upon her hand, her lips a little parted, her eyes full of +smouldering fires. At the end of Docker's speech, one of the Union +officials got up on his feet. It was for the men themselves to decide, +he said. They had subscribed the money; it was for them to say whether +it should be used. Was the moment propitious for a blow on behalf of +their rights? If they thought so, then let it be war. If they asked +for his advice, they were welcome to it. His advice was to fight. The +masters had refused their reasonable ultimatum. Let the masters try and +carry out their contracts without work people! That was his way of +looking at it. + +There was a rumble of applause. The militants were certainly in the +majority. A man got up from one of the front rows. + +"I propose," he said, "that we strike to-morrow. They are working us as +hard as they can in shifts on special jobs now, in case they should get +left. Every hour we work makes it better for them. I say 'Strike!'" + +There was a thunder of applause. A ballot box was brought and placed on +a table in front of the platform. + +"They will strike," Aaron muttered,--"three thousand of them! +Splendid!" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"It is piecemeal work, this. They do not understand." + +"They do not understand what?" Julia asked him, turning her head +swiftly. + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"They will ask for five shillings a week more and get half-a-crown," he +said. "Half-a-crown a week! What difference can it make? Do you know +what Boulding's put on one side for distribution to their shareholders +last year?--what they put to their reserve fund? Why, it was a +fortune!" + +A man from somewhere at the back of the hall climbed on to a seat to get +a better view and suddenly pointed out Maraton to his neighbours. A +little murmur arose from the vicinity. Some one mentioned his name. +The cry was taken up from the other side of the hall. + +"Maraton!" + +"Maraton!" + +Maraton sat back, frowning. The cries, however, became more insistent. +The occupants of the platform were leaning forward towards him. The +chairman rose In his feet and beckoned. With obvious reluctance, +Maraton moved a few steps to the front. From the far corners of the +ill-lit hall, white-faced men climbed on to the benches, peering through +the cloud of smoke which hung almost like fog about the place. They +saluted him in all manner of ways--with cat-calls, hurrahs, stamping of +feet, clapping of hands. Maraton, who had climbed up on to the +platform, was soon surrounded. + +Dale held out his hand. + +"Thought you weren't going to honour us here, Mr. Maraton," he remarked +gruffly. + +"I had not meant to," Maraton replied. "I came as one of the audience. +I wanted to hear, to understand if I could." + +Dale stretched out his hand. + +"This is Mr. Docker," he said, performing the introduction. "Mr. +Docker--Mr. Maraton." + +"Come to support us, sir, I hope?" the former remarked. + +"I came to listen," Maraton answered. "To tell you the truth, it's +against my views, this, an individual strike." + +They were calling to him now from the front. Mr. Docker's reply was +inaudible. + +"You'll have to say a few words," Dale insisted. "They'll never leave +off until you do." + +Maraton nodded and turned towards the audience. He stood looking down +at them for a moment or two, without speech. Even after silence had +been established he seemed to be at a loss as to exactly what to say. +When at last he did speak, it was in an easy and conversational manner. +There was no sign of the fire or the frenzy with which he had kindled +the enthusiasms of the people of the United States. + +"I find it rather hard to know exactly what to say to you," he began. +"I am glad to be here and I have come to this country to work for you, +if I may. But, you know, I have views of my own, and it isn't a very +auspicious occasion for me to stand for the first time upon an English +platform. I came as one of the audience to-night and I have listened to +all that has been said. I don't think that I am in favour of your +strike." + +There was a murmur of wonder, mingled with discontent. + +"Why not?" some one shouted from the back. + +"Aye, why not?" a dozen voices echoed. + +"I'll try and tell you, if you like," Maraton continued. "I didn't mean +to say anything until after Manchester, but I'll tell you roughly what +my scheme is. These individual strikes such as you're planning are +just like pinpricks on the hide of an elephant. How many are there of +you? A thousand, say? Well, you thousand may get a shilling or two a +week more. It won't alter your condition of life. It won't do much for +you, any way. You will have spent your money, and in a year or two the +masters will be taking it out of you some other way. A strike such as +you are proposing causes inconvenience--no more. I'd bigger things in +my mind for you." + +He hesitated for a moment as though uncertain, even now, whether to go +on. Glancing around the hall, his eyes for a moment met Julia's. +Something in her still face, the almost passionate enquiry of her +wonderful eyes, seemed to decide him. He lifted up his hands, his voice +grew in volume. + +"Let me tell you what I want, then. Let me tell you the dream which +others have had before me, which is laughed to scorn by the enemies of +the people, but which grows in substance and shape, year by year. I +want to teach you how to smash the individual capitalist. I want to +teach you how to frame laws which will bring the wealth of this country +into a new and saner distribution. I want to teach you the folly of the +old ideas that because of the wretched conditions in which you live, the +better educated man, the man better equipped mentally and physically for +his job, must gather to himself the wealth and you must become his +slaves. What do you suppose, in the course of three or four +generations, produces men of different mental and physical calibre? I +will tell you. The circumstances of their bringing-up, the life they +have to lead, their education, their environment. What chance have you +under present conditions? None! For very shame, as the years pass on, +you operatives will be better paid. What will it amount to? A few +shillings a week more, the same life, the same anxieties, the same daily +grinding toil, brainless, machine-like, leading you nowhere because +there isn't a way out. There will still remain your masters; there +will still remain you, the men. Can't you see what it is that I am +aiming at? I want to make a great machine of all the industries of this +country. The man with the gift for figures will find himself in the +office, and the man with lesser brain power will find himself before a +machine. But the two will be working for one aim and one end. They +will both be parts of the machine, and for their livelihood they will +take what that machine produces, distributed in a scientific and exact +ratio. It's co-operation over again, you say? Very well, call it that. +Only I tell you why co-operation has failed up till now. It's because +you've been in too much of a hurry. I am going to appeal to you +presently, not for your own interests but in the interests of your +children and your children's children, because the better days that are +to come for you won't dawn yet awhile. It may be, even, that you will +be called upon to make sacrifices, instead of finding yourselves better +off. There are some great changes which time alone can govern." + +"What about this strike?" some one shouted from the bottom of the +hall. + +"You are quite right, sir," Maraton replied swiftly. "I've wandered a +little from my point. I think that the first thing I said to you was +that this strike, if it took place, would be like the pinprick on an +elephant's hide. I want to teach you how to stab!" + +There was a murmur of voices--approving this time, at any rate. + +"Can't you see," Maraton continued, "that Society can easily deal with +one strike at a time? That isn't the way to make yourself felt. What I +want to see in this country is a simultaneous strike of wharfingers, +dock labourers, railways, and all the means of communication; a strike +which will stop the pulses of the nation, a strike which will cost +hundreds of millions, a strike which may cost this country its place +amongst the nations, but which will mark the dawn of new conditions. +I'd put out your forge fires from Glasgow to Sheffield and Sheffield to +London. I'd take the big risks--the rioting, the revolutions, the +starvation, the misery that will surely come. I'd do that for the sake +of the new nation which would start again where the old one perished." + +There was a sudden burst of applause. A little thrill seemed to have +found its way, like zig-zag lightning, here and there amongst them. But +there were many who sat and smoked in stolid silence. Maraton looked +into their faces and sighed to himself. There were too many hungry +people for his mission. + +"We are half starved," a man called from the back of the ball. "My wage +is a pound a week and four children to keep. It's fine talk, yours, but +it won't feed 'em." + +There was a murmur of sullen approval. Maraton's hand shot out, his +finger quivered as it pointed to the man. + +"I don't blame you," he said, "but it's the cry you've just raised which +keeps you and a few other millions exactly in the places you occupy. +There are many generations as yet unborn, to come from your children and +your children's children. Are they, then, to suffer as you have +suffered?" + +There was a little stir at the back of the platform. A tall, +broad-shouldered man pushed his way through to the front. His face was +pitted with smallpox; he had black, wiry hair; small, narrow eyes; a +large, brutal mouth. He took up his position in the middle of the +platform, ignoring Maraton altogether. + +"Listen, lads," he began; "you are here to-night to decide whether or +not you want another half-crown on to your wages. This man who has been +talking to you has done big things in America. I know nothing about him +and I'm not rightly sure that I know what's at the back of his head. If +he is your friend, he's our friend, and we shall soon fall into line, +but to-night you're here to meet about that half-crown. It's for you to +say whether or no you'll have it. We've saved the money for the fight, +saved it from your wages, got it with your sweat. You've given up your +beer for it--aye, and maybe your baccy. We've saved the money and the +time's come to fight. All that he says"--jerking his elbow towards +Maraton--"sounds good enough. That'll come in later. Are you for the +strike?" + +There was no doubt about the reply--a roar of approving voices. Maraton +smiled at them and stepped down from the platform. For the moment he +was forgotten. Only Julia whispered passionately in his ear as they +moved out of the place. + +"You should have gone on. They didn't understand. They have waited so +long, they could have waited a little longer." + +Maraton did not answer until they reached the street. Then he stood a +few steps in the background, watching the people as they came out. + +"I couldn't," he said simply. "I felt as though I were offering stones +for bread. The stones were better, perhaps, but the cruelty was the +same." + + + +CHAPTER X + +Maraton walked alone with Elisabeth on the following afternoon in the +flower garden at Lyndwood. She was apologising for some unexpected +additions to the number of their guests. + +"Mother always forgets whom she has asked down for the week-end," she +said, "and my uncle is far too sweet about it. I know that he wanted to +have as much time as possible alone with you before Monday. It is on +Monday you go to Manchester, isn't it?" + +"On Monday," he answered, a little absently. "I have to make my bow to +the democracy of your country in the evening." + +"I wish I could make up my mind, Mr. Maraton," she continued, "whether +you have come over here for good or for evil." + +"For evil that good may come of it, I am afraid," he rejoined, "would be +the kindest interpretation you could put upon my enterprise here." + +"The Spectator calls you the Missionary of Unrest." + +"The Spectator, I am afraid, will become more violent later on." + +"Let us sit down here for a moment," she suggested, pointing to a seat. +"You see, we are just at the top of this long pathway, and we get a view +of the roses all the way down." + +"It is very beautiful," he admitted,--"far too beautiful." + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Too beautiful? Is that possible?" + +"Without a doubt," he declared. "Too much beauty is as bad as too +little." + +"And why is that? Surely it must be good for one to be surrounded by +inspiring things?" + +"I am not sure that beauty does inspire anything except content," he +answered, smiling. "I call this garden of yours, for instance, a most +vicious place, a perfect lotus-eater's Paradise. Positively, I feel the +energy slipping out of my bones as I sit here." + +"Then you shall be chained to that seat," she threatened. "You will not +be able to go to Manchester and make trouble, and my uncle will be able +to sleep at nights." + +"I feel that everything in life is slipping away from me," he protested. +"I ought to be thinking over what lam going to say to your country +people, and instead of that I am wondering whether there is anything +more beautiful in the world than the blue haze over your meadows." + +She laughed, and moved her parasol a little so that she could see him +better. + +"You know," she said, "my uncle declares that if only you could be +taught to imbibe a little more of the real philosophy of living, you +would become quite a desirable person." + +"And what is the real philosophy of living?" + +"Just now, with him, it is the laissez faire, the non-interference with +the essential forces of life, especially the forces that concern other +people," she explained. + +He looked at her, a little startled. What instinct, he wondered, had +led her to place her finger upon the one poison spot in his thoughts? + +"I can see," he remarked, "that I have found my way into a dangerous +neighbourhood." + +She changed her position a little, so as to face him. Her blue eyes +were lit with laughter, her lips mocked him. Usually reserved, she +seemed at that moment to be inspired with an instinct which was +something almost more than coquetry. She leaned a little towards him. +The aloofness of her carriage and manner had suddenly disappeared. He +was conscious of the perfection of her white muslin gown, of the shape +of her neck, the delicate lines and grace of her slim young body. + +"You shall be chained here," she repeated. "My uncle has a new theory +of individualism. He thinks that if no one tried to improve anybody, +the world would be so much more livable a place. Shall we sit at his +feet?" + +He shook his head. + +"I am not brave," he said, "but I am at least discreet." + +"Do you think that you are?" she asked him quietly. "Do you think that +you are discreet in the sense of being wise? Are you sure that you are +using your gifts for the best purpose, for yourself--and other people?" + +"No one can be sure," he replied. "I only follow my star." + +"Then are you sure that it is your star?" + +"No one can ever mistake that," he declared. "Sometimes one may lose +one's way, and one may even falter if the path is rugged. But the star +remains." + +She sighed. Her eyes seemed to have wandered away. He felt that it was +a trick to avoid looking at him for the moment. + +"I do not want you to go to Manchester on Monday in your present mood," +she said. "I hate to think of you up there, the stormy petrel, the +apostle of unrest and sedition. If I were a Roman woman, I think that I +would poison you to-night at dinner-time." + +"Quite an idea," he remarked. "I am not at all sure that our having +become too civilised for crime is a healthy sign of the times." + +"I do wish," she persisted, "that you would try and see things a little +more humanly. My uncle is full of enthusiasms about you. You have had +some conversation already, haven't you?" + +"We talked for an hour after luncheon," Maraton admitted. "Your uncle's +is a very sane point of view. I know just how he regards me--a sort of +dangerous enthusiast, a firebrand with the knack of commanding +attention. The worst of it is that when I am with him, he almost makes +me feel like that myself." + +She laughed. + +"All men of genius," she declared, "must be impressionable. We ought to +set ourselves to discover your weak point." + +He smiled at her with upraised eyebrows. There were times when he +seemed to her like a boy. + +"Haven't you discovered it?" + +She made a little face and swung her parasol around. When she spoke +again, she was very grave. + +"Mr. Maraton," she begged, "please will you promise that before you go +away, you will talk to me again for a few minutes?" + +"It is a promise easily made!" he replied. + +"But I mean seriously." + +"I will talk to you at any time, anyhow you wish," he promised. + +She rose to her feet then. + +"For the present you have promised to play tennis," she reminded him. +"Please go and change your things." + +"I must have a yellow rosebud for my button-hole," he begged. + +She arranged it herself in his coat. He laughed as she swept aside a +wisp of her hair which brushed his cheek. + +"What a picture for the photographic Press of America!" he exclaimed. +"The anarchist of Chicago and the Prime Minister's niece!" + +"What is an anarchist?" she asked him abruptly. He opened the little +iron gate which led out of the garden. + +"A sower of fire and destruction," he answered, "a highly unpleasant +person to meet when he's in earnest." + +She looked into his face for a moment with a wistfulness which was +almost passionate. + +"Please tell me at once, that you aren't--" + +He pointed back to the garden. + +"We have come out of the land of confessions. On this side of the gate +I am your uncle's guest, and I mustn't be teased with questions." + +"Before you go," she threatened, "I shall take you back into the +rose-garden." + +From their wicker chairs drawn under a great cedar tree, Mr. Foley and +Lord Armley, perhaps the most distinguished of his colleagues, watched +the slow approach of the two from the flower gardens. Lord Armley, who +had only arrived during the last half hour, was recovering from a fit of +astonishment. He had just been told of his fellow guest. + +"Granted, even, that the man is as dangerous as you say," he remarked, +"it is certainly creating a new precedent for you to bring him into the +bosom of your family. Is it conversion, bribery, or poison that you +have in your thoughts?" + +"Influence, if possible," Mr. Foley answered. "Somehow or other, I +have always detected in his writing a vein of common sense." + +"What the dickens is common sense!" Lord Armley growled. + +"Shall I say a sense of the fitness of things?" the Prime Minister +replied,--"a sense of proportion, perhaps? Notwithstanding his +extraordinary speeches in America, I believe that to some extent Maraton +possesses it. Anyhow, it seemed to me to be worth trying. One couldn't +face the idea of letting him go up north just now without making an +effort." + +"Things are really serious there," Lord Armley muttered. + +"Worse than any of us know," Mr. Foley agreed. "If you hadn't been +coming here, I should have sent for you last night. The French +Ambassador was with me for an hour after dinner." + +"No fresh trouble?" + +"It was a general conversation, but his visit had its purpose--a very +definite and threatening purpose, too. I do not blame France. We are +under great obligations to her already. Half her fleet is there to +watch over our possessions. She naturally must be sure of her quid pro +quo. Everywhere, all over the Continent, the idea seems to be spreading +that we are going to be plunged into what really amounts to a civil war. +The coming of Maraton has strengthened the people's belief. A country +without the sinews of movement, a country in which the working classes +laid down their tools, a country whose forges had flickered out and +whose railroad tracks were deserted, would simply be the helpless prey +of any country who cared to pay off old scores." + +Lord Armley was looking curiously at the approaching couple. + +"Never saw a man," he said, half to himself, "who looked the part so +little. Fellow must be well-bred, Foley." + +Mr. Foley nodded. + +"No one knows who his people were. It doesn't really matter, does it? +Accident has made him a gentleman--accident or fate. Perhaps that is +why he has gained such an ascendency over the people. The working +classes of the country are most of them sick of their own Labour +Members. The practical men can see no further than their noses, and the +theorists are too far above their heads. Maraton is the only one who +seems to understand. You must have a talk with him, Armley." + +Lady Elisabeth, with a little smile, had turned towards the tennis +courts, and Maraton came on alone. Mr. Foley turned to his companion. + +"Armley," he said, "this is Mr. Maraton--Lord Armley." + +"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maraton," Lord Armley declared, as +the two men shook hands, "in such peaceful surroundings. The Press over +here has not been too kind to you. Our ideas of your personality are +rather based, I am afraid, upon the _Punch_ caricature. You've seen it, +perhaps?" + +Maraton's eyes lit up with mirth. + +"Excellent!" he observed. "I have had one framed." + +"He is standing," Lord Armley continued, turning to Mr. Foley, "on the +topmost of three tubs, his hair flying in the wind, his mouth open to +about twice its normal size, with fire and smoke coming out of it. And +below, a multitude! It is a splendid caricature. They tell me, Mr. +Maraton, that it is your intention to kindle the fires in England, too." + +Maraton was suddenly grave. + +"Lord Armley," he said, "all the world speaks of me as an apostle of +destruction and death. It is because they see a very little distance. +In my own thoughts, if ever I do think of myself, it is as a builder, +not as a destroyer, that I picture myself. Only in this world, as in +any other, one must destroy first to build upon a sound foundation." + +"Good reasoning, sir," Lord Armley replied, "only one should be very +sure, before one destroys, that the new order of things will be worthy +of the sacrifice." + +"After dinner," Mr. Foley remarked, as he lit a cigarette, "we are +going to talk. At present, Maraton is under a solemn promise to play +tennis." + +Maraton looked towards the house. + +"If I might be allowed," he said, "I will go and put on my flannels. +Lady Elisabeth is making up a set, I think." + +He turned towards the house. The two men stood watching him. + +"Is he to be bought?" Lord Armley asked, in a low tone. + +Mr. Foley shook his head. + +"Not with money or place," he answered thoughtfully. + +"There isn't a man breathing who hasn't his price, if you could only +discover what it is," Lord Armley declared, as he took a cigarette from +his case and lit it. + +"A truism, my friend," Mr. Foley admitted, "which I have always +considered a little nebulous. However, we shall see. We have a few +hours' respite, at any rate." + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Lady Grenside's hospitable instincts were unquenchable. The small +house-party to which her brother had reluctantly consented had grown by +odd couples until the house was more than half full. Twenty-two people +sat down to dinner that night. For the first time in his life, Mr. +Foley interfered with the arrangement of the table. He sought his +sister out just as the dressing-bell rang. + +"My dear Catharine," he asked, a little reprovingly, "was it necessary +to have such a crowd here--at any rate until after Monday? You know +that I don't interfere as a rule, but there were special reasons why I +wanted to be as quiet as possible until after Maraton had left." + +Lady Grenside's expression was delightfully apologetic. It conveyed, +also, a sense of helplessness. + +"What was I to do?" she demanded. "Most of these people were asked, or +half asked, weeks ago, and I hate putting any one off. It is quite a +weakness of mine, that. And I am sure, Stephen, there isn't a soul who +could possibly object to Mr. Maraton. Personally, I think he is +altogether charming, and so distinguished-looking. He has quite the air +of being used to good society." + +Mr. Foley's eyes lit with joyful appreciation of his sister's naïveté. +Perhaps one reason why they got on so well together was because she was +continually ministering to his sense of humour. + +"It wasn't altogether that," he said, "but never mind. We can't send +the people away now--that's certain. What I wanted to tell you was that +Elisabeth must sit next Maraton to-night." + +Lady Grenside was horrified. + +"However could I explain such an arrangement to Jack Carton!" she +protested. "Apart from a matter of precedence, you know that he is +Elisabeth's declared admirer. It is perfectly certain that at a word of +encouragement from her, he would propose. A most suitable match, too, +in every way, and, you know, Elisabeth is beginning to be just a little +anxiety to me. She is twenty-four, and girls marry so young, nowadays." + +"Carton and she can make up for lost time later on," Mr. Foley +insisted. "Maraton goes to-morrow. To-night I am relying upon +Elisabeth to look after him. For some reason or other, they seem to get +on together excellently." + +Lady Grenside took Lord Carton into one of the corners of her brother's +quaint and delightful drawing-room, to explain the matter. + +"My dear Jack," she began, "never be a politician." + +"I like that!" the young man answered. "Lady Elisabeth has been talking +to me for half an hour before dinner, trying to get me to interest +myself in what she calls serious objects." + +"Oh, it's all right, so far as the man is concerned!" Lady Grenside +amended. "I was thinking of my own position. Only an hour ago, my +brother comes to me and tells me that I am to send Elisabeth in to +dinner to-night with--with whom do you think?" + +"With me, I hope," the young man replied promptly, "only I don't know +why he should interfere." + +"With Mr. Maraton." + +"What, the anarchist fellow?" + +Lady Grenside nodded several times. + +"I can't refuse Stephen in his own house," she said, "and Mr. Maraton +is leaving to-morrow." + +The young man sighed. + +"He is just one of those thoughtful chaps with plenty of gas, that +Elisabeth likes to talk to," he complained. "Never mind, it's got to be +put up with, I suppose." + +"I am sending you in with Lily," Lady Grenside continued. "She'll keep +you amused. Only I felt that I must explain." + +"I can't think what the fellow's doing here, anyhow," Carton remarked +discontentedly. "A few generations ago we should have hung him." + +"Hush!" Lady Grenside whispered. "Don't let Elisabeth hear you talk +like that. Here she comes. I wonder--" + +Lady Grenside stopped short. She was looking steadily at her daughter +and her expression of doubt had a genuine impulse behind it. Carton was +not so reticent. + +"By Jove, she does look stunning!" he murmured. + +Elisabeth, who seldom wore colours, was dressed in blue, with a necklace +of turquoises. On the threshold she paused to make some laughing +rejoinder to a man who was holding open the door for her. Her eyes were +brilliant, her face was full of animation. Lady Grenside's face +darkened as the unseen man came into sight. It was Maraton. + +"Never saw Elisabeth look so ripping," Carton repeated. "Just my luck, +not to take her in." + +"To-morrow night," Lady Grenside promised. + +"That's all very well," Carton grumbled. "I wish she didn't look so +thundering pleased with herself." + +Lady Grenside leaned a little towards him. + +"Elisabeth is a dear girl," she declared. "She is doing all this for +her uncle's sake. Mr. Foley is very anxious indeed to conciliate this +man, and Elisabeth is helping him. You know how keen she is on doing +what she can in that way." + +Carton nodded a little more hopefully. His eyes were fixed now upon +Maraton. + +"Can't think how the fellow learnt to turn himself out like that. I +thought these sort of people dressed anyhow." + +Lady Grenside shrugged her shoulders. + +"I believe," she said, "that this man is full of queer contradictions. +Some one once told me that he was enormously wealthy; that he had been +to an English public school and changed his name out in America. +Rubbish, I expect. . . . Run and find Lily, there's a dear boy. We +are going in now." + +Dinner was served at a round table, and a good deal of the conversation +was general. On Maraton's left hand, however, was a lady whose horror +at his presence, concealed out of deference to her host, reduced her to +stolid and unbending silence. Elisabeth, quickly aware of the fact, +made swift atonement. While the others talked all around them of +general subjects, she conversed with Maraton almost in whispers, lightly +enough at first, but with an undernote of seriousness always there. +Maraton would have been less than human if he had not been susceptible +to the charm of her conversation. + +"I cannot tell you," she declared, towards the end of the meal, "how +much I am hoping from this brief visit of yours. I know you feel that +our class has little feeling for the people whom you represent. If only +I could convince you how wrong that idea is! Nothing has interested me +so much as the different measures which have been brought in for the +sake of the people. And my uncle, too--he is the kindest of men and +very broad. He would go even further than he does, but for his +colleagues." + +"He goes a long way," Maraton reminded her, "when he asks me to his +home; invites me--well, why should I not say it?--invites me to join his +party." + +"He is doing what he believes is sensible," she went on eagerly. "He is +doing what I know is right. It is the best, the most splendid idea he +has ever had. I think that if nothing comes of it," she added, leaning +forward so that her eyes met his, "I think that if nothing comes of it, +it will break my heart." + +Maraton was a little more serious for a few minutes. She waited in some +anxiety for him to speak. When he did so, she realised that there was a +new gravity in his face and in his tone. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he said, "I am afraid that there is very little hope +of our coming to any agreement. You must remember that when I promised +to come here--" + +"Oh, I know that!" she interrupted. "Only I wish that we had a little +longer time. You think that my interest in the people is an amateurish +affair, half sentimental and half freakish, don't you? You were +probably surprised to hear that I had ever read a volume of political +economy in my life. But I have. I have studied things. I have read +dozens and dozens of books on Sociology, and Socialism, and Syndicalism, +and every conceivable subject that bears upon the relations between your +class and ours, and I can't come to any but one conclusion. There is +only one logical conclusion. Violent methods are useless. The +betterment of the poor must come about gradually. If religion hadn't +interfered, things would have been far better now, even." + +He looked at her, a little startled. + +"It seems strange to hear you say that," he remarked. + +"Strange only because you will think of me as a dilettante," she replied +swiftly. "I have some sort of a brain. I have thought of these +matters, talked of them with my uncle, with many others whom even you +would admit to be clever men. I, too, see that charity and charitable +impulses have perhaps been the greatest drawback of the day to a +scientific betterment of the people. I, too, want to see the thing done +by laws and not by impulses." + +"You and how many more," he sighed, "and, alas! this is an age of +majorities. People talk a good deal. I wonder how many of your hateful +middle class would give up a tithe of their luxuries to add to the +welfare of the others. There isn't a person breathing with so little +real feeling for the slaves of the world, as your middle-class +manufacturer, your tradesman. That is why, in the days to come, he will +be the person who is going to suffer most." + +Maraton was appealed to from across the table with reference to some of +the art treasures which were reputed to have found their way from Italy +to New York. He gave at once the information required, speaking +fluently and with the appreciative air of a connoisseur, of many of the +pictures which were under discussion. Soon afterwards, Lady Grenside +rose and the men drew up their chairs. The evening papers had arrived +and there was a general air of seriousness. Mr. Foley sent one to +Maraton, who glanced at the opening page upon which his name was +displayed in large type: + +FIVE MILLION WORKERS WAIT FOR + +MARATON! + +WHAT THE STRIKE MAY MEAN. + +HOME SECRETARY LEAVES POST MANCHESTER. + +TO-MORROW. + +ILLEGAL STRIKES BILL TO RE PROPOSED + +ON MONDAY. + +Maraton only glanced at the paper and put it on one side. There was a +little constraint. One or two who had not known of his identity were +glancing curiously in his direction. Mr. Foley smiled at him +pleasantly. + +"You may drink your port without fear, Mr. Maraton," he said. "We live +in civilised ages. A thousand years ago, you would certainly have had +some cause for suspicion!" + +Maraton raised his glass to his lips and sipped the wine critically. + +"I am afraid," he remarked, with a gleam in his eyes, "that there are a +good many of you who may be wishing that they could set back time a +thousand years!" + +Mr. Foley shook his head. + +"No," he decided, "to-day's principles are the best. We argue away what +is wrong in the minds of our enemies, and we take unto ourselves what +they bring us of good. If you would rather, Mr. Maraton, we will not +talk politics at all. On the other hand, the news to-night is serious. +Armley here is wondering what the actual results will be if Sheffield, +Leeds, and Manchester stand together, and the railway strike comes at +the same time." + +"I do not know that I wonder at all," Lord Armley declared. "The result +will be ruin. + +"There is no such thing as permanent destruction," Maraton objected. +"The springs of human life are never crushed. Sometimes a generation +must suffer that succeeding ones may be blest." + +"The question is," Mr. Foley said, holding up his wine-glass, "how far +we are justified in experiments concerning which nothing absolute can be +known, experiments of so disastrous a nature." + +A servant entered and made a communication to Mr. Foley, who turned at +once to Maraton. + +"It is your secretary," he announced, "who has arrived from London with +some letters." + +Maraton at once followed the servant from the room. Mr. Foley, too, +rose to his feet. + +"In ten minutes or so," he declared, "I shall follow you. We can have +our chat quietly in the study." + +Maraton followed the butler across the hall and found himself ushered +into a room at the back of the house--a room lined with books; with +French windows, wide open, leading out on to the lawn; a room +beautifully cool and odoriferous with the perfume of roses. A single +lamp was burning upon a table; for the rest, the apartment seemed full +of the soft blue twilight of the summer night. Maraton came to a +standstill with an exclamation of surprise. A tall, very slim figure in +plain dark clothes had turned from the French windows and was standing +there now, her face turned towards him a little eagerly, a strange light +upon her pale cheeks and in the eyes which seemed to shine at him almost +feverishly out of the sensuous twilight. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"Julia!" Maraton exclaimed. + +"Aaron was run over just as he was starting," she explained quickly. +"He is not hurt badly, but he wasn't able to catch the train. He had an +important letter from Manchester and one from the committee for you. We +thought it best that I should bring them. I hope we decided rightly." + +She was standing out of the circle of the lamplight, in the shadows of +the room. There was a queer nervousness about her manner, a strained +anxiety in the way her eyes scarcely left his face, which puzzled him. + +"It is very kind of you," he said, as he took the letters. "Please sit +down while I look at them." + +The first was dated from the House of Commons: + +"_Dear Mr. Maraton:_ + +"At a committee meeting held this afternoon here, it was resolved that I +should write to you to the following effect. + +"We understood that you were coming over here entirely in the interests +of the great cause of labour, of which we, the undersigned, are the +accredited representatives in this country. Since your arrival, +however, you have preserved an independent attitude which has given +cause to much anxiety on our part. After declining to attend a meeting +at the Clarion Hall, we find you there amongst the audience, and you +address them in direct opposition to the advice which we were giving +them authoritatively. We specially invited you to be present at a +meeting of this committee to-day, in order that a definite plan of +campaign might be formulated before your visit to Manchester. You have +not accepted our invitation, and we understand that you are now staying +at the private house of the Prime Minister, notwithstanding our request +that you should not interview, or be interviewed by any representative +of the Government without one of our committee being present. + +"We wish to express our dissatisfaction with the state of affairs, and +to say that should you be still intending to address the meeting at +Manchester on Monday night, we demand an explanation with you before you +go on to the platform. We understand that the residence of Mr. Foley +is only sixty miles from London. If you are still desirous of acting +with us, we beg you, upon receipt of this letter, to ask for a motor car +and to return here to London. We shall all be at number 17, Notting +Hill, until midnight or later, telephone number 178, so that you can +telephone that you are on the way. Failing your coming, some of us will +be at the Midland Hotel, Manchester, from mid-day on Monday. + +"I am, + +"Faithfully yours, + +"RICHARD GRAVELING, + +"Secretary. + +"For + +PETER DALE, Chairman, + +ABRAHAM WEAVEL, + +SAMUEL BORDEN, + +HENRY CULVAIN. + + +The second one was from Manchester: + + +"Dear Sir: + +"We understand that you will be arriving in Manchester about mid-day on +Monday. We think it would be best if you were to descend from the train +either at Derby or any adjacent station, as no police force which could +possibly be raised in the county, will be sufficient to control the +crowds of people who will gather in the streets to welcome you. + +"We beg that you will send us a telegram, informing us by what, train +you are travelling, and we will send a messenger to Derby, who will +confer with you as to the best means of reaching the rooms which we are +providing for you. + +"Anticipating your visit, + +"I am, + +"Faithfully yours, + +"WILLIAM PRESTON, + +"Secretary Manchester Labour Party." + + +Maraton replaced the letters in their envelopes and turned with them in +his hand, towards Julia. She had moved a little towards the open French +windows. Every one seemed to have made their way out on to the lawn. +Chinese lanterns were hanging from some of the trees and along the +straight box hedge that led to the rose gardens. The women were +strolling about in their evening gowns, without wraps or covering, and +the men had joined them. Servants were passing coffee around, served +from a table on which stood a little row of bottles, filled with various +liqueurs. Some one in the drawing-room was singing, but the voice was +suddenly silenced. Every one turned their heads. A little further back +in the woods, a nightingale had commenced to sing. + +"You are tired," Maraton whispered. + +She shook her head. The strained, anxious look was still in her face. + +"No," she replied in a low tone, "I am not tired." + +"There is something the matter," he insisted, "something, I am sure. +Won't you sit down, and may I not order some refreshment for you? The +people here are very hospitable." + +Her gesture of dissent was almost peremptory. + +"No!" + +The monosyllable had a sting which surprised him. + +"Tell me what it is?" he begged. + +She opened her lips and closed them again. He saw then the rising and +falling of her bosom underneath that black stuff gown. She stretched +out her hand towards the gardens. Somehow or other, she seemed to grow +taller. + +"I do not understand this," she said. "I do not understand your being +here, one of them, dressed like them, speaking their language, sharing +their luxuries. It is a great blow to me. It is perhaps because I am +foolish, but it tortures me!" + +"But isn't that a little unreasonable?" he asked her quietly. "To +accomplish anything in this world, it is necessary to know more than one +side of life." + +"But this--this," she cried hysterically, "is the side which has made +our blood boil for generations! These women in silk and laces, these +idle, pleasure-loving men, this eating and drinking, this luxury in +beautiful surroundings, with ears deafened to all the mad, sobbing cries +of the world! This is their life day by day. You have been in the +wilderness, you have seen the life of those others, you have the feeling +for them in your heart. Can you sit at table with these people and wear +their clothes, and not feel like a hypocrite?" + +"I assure you," Maraton replied, "that I can." + +She was trembling slightly. She had never seemed to him so tall. Her +eyes now were ablaze. She had indeed the air of a prophetess. + +"They are ignorant men, they who sent you that letter," she continued, +pointing to it, "but they have the truth. Do you know what they are +saying?" + +Maraton inclined his head gravely. He felt that he knew very well what +they were saying. She did not give him time, however, to interrupt. + +"They are saying that you are to be bought, that that is why you are +here, that Mr. Foley will pay a great price for you. They are saying +that all those hopes we had built upon your coming, are to be dashed +away. They say that you are for the flesh-pots. I daren't breathe a +word of this to Aaron," she added hurriedly, "or I think that he would +go mad. He is blind with passionate love for you. He does not see the +danger, he will not believe that you are not as a god." + +Maraton looked past her into the gardens, away into the violet sky. The +nightingale was singing now clearly and wonderfully. Perhaps, for a +moment, his thoughts strayed from the great battle of life. Perhaps his +innate sense and worship of beauty, the artist in the man, which was the +real thing making him great in his daily work, triumphed apart from any +other consideration. The music of life was in his veins. Soft and +stately, Elisabeth, standing a little apart, was looking in upon them, +an exquisite figure with a background of dark green trees. + +"When you faced death in Chicago," Julia went on, her voice quivering +with the effort she was making to keep it low, "when you offered your +body to the law and preached fire and murder with your lips, you did it +for the sake of the people. There was nothing in life so glorious to +you, then, as the one great cause. That was the man we hoped to see. +Are you that man?" + +Maraton's thoughts came back. He moved a little towards her. Her hand +shot out as though to keep him at a distance. + +"Are you that man?" she repeated. + +Her thin form was shaken with stifled sobs. + +"I hope so," he answered gravely. "My ways are not the ways to which +you have been accustomed. In my heart I believe that I see further into +the real truth than some of those very ignorant friends of yours who +have been sent into Parliament by the operatives they represent; further +even than you, Julia, handicapped by your sex, with your eyes fixed, day +by day, only upon the misery of life. You blame me because I am here +amongst these people as an equal. Listen. Is one responsible for their +birth and instincts? I tell you now what I have told to no one, for no +one has ever ventured to ask me twice of my parentage. I was born, in a +sense, as these people were born. I cannot help it if, finding it +advisable to come amongst them, I find their ways easy. That is all. I +came here to keep a promise to a man who is, in his way, a great +statesman. He is Prime Minister of our country. He has, without a +doubt, so far as it is possible for such a man to have it there at all, +the cause of the people at his heart. Is it for me to ignore him, to +leave what he would say to me unsaid, to pull down the pillars which +have kept this a proud country for many hundreds of years, without even +listening? Remember that if I speak at Manchester the things that are +in my heart, this country, for your time and mine, must perish. Of that +I am sure. That has been made clear to me. Do you wonder, Julia, that, +before I take that last step, I lift every stone, I turn over every +page, I listen to every word which may be spoken by those who have the +right to speak? That is why I am here. On Monday morning I leave. On +Monday night I speak to the people in Manchester." + +She listened to him very much as a prisoner at the bar might listen to a +judge who reasons before he pronounces sentence, and her face became as +the face of that prisoner might become, who detects some leniency of +tone, some softening of manner, on the part of the arbiter of his fate. +She ceased to tremble, her lips relaxed, her eyes grew softer and +softer. She came a step nearer, resting her finger-tips upon a little +table, her body leaning towards him. He had a queer vision of her for a +moment--no longer the prophetess, a touch of the Delilah in the soft +sweetness of her eyes. + +"Oh, forgive me!" she begged. "I was foolish. Forgive me!" + +He smiled at her reassuringly. + +"There is nothing to forgive," he insisted. "You asked for an +explanation to which you had a right. I have tried to give it to you. +Indeed, Julia, you need have no fear. Whatever I decide in life will be +what I think best for our cause." + +The shadow of fear once more trembled in her tone. + +"Whatever you decide," she repeated. "You will not--you will not let +them call you a deserter? You couldn't do that." + +"There isn't anything in the world," he told her quietly, "which has the +power to tempt me from doing the thing which I think best. I cannot +promise that it will be always the thing which seems right to this +committee of men," he added, touching the envelope with his forefinger. +"I cannot promise you that, but it should not worry you. You yourself +are different. It is my hope that soon you will understand me better. +I think that when that time comes you will cease to fear." + +The light in her face was wonderful. + +"Oh, I want to!" she murmured. "I want to understand you better. There +hasn't been anything in life to me like the sound of your name, like the +thought of you, since first I understood. Perhaps I am as bad as +Aaron," she sighed. "I, too, alas! am your hopeless slave." + +He moved a step nearer. This time she made no effort to retreat. Once +more she was trembling a little, but her face was soft and sweet. All +the pallor, the hard lines, the suffering seemed to have passed +miraculously out of it. A soul--a woman's soul--was shining at him out +of her eyes. It wasn't her physical self that spoke--in a way he knew +that. Yet she was calling to him, calling to him with all she +possessed, calling to him as to her master. + +He succeeded in persuading her to eat and drink, and she departed, a +little grim and unpleased, in the motor car which Mr. Foley had +insisted upon ordering round. Then Maraton strolled into the garden to +take his delayed coffee. Elisabeth came noiselessly across the turf to +his side. + +"I hope there was nothing disturbing in your letters?" she said. + +"Not very," he replied. "It is only what I expected." + +"Every one," she continued, "has been admiring your secretary. We all +thought that she had such a beautiful face." + +"She is not my secretary," he explained. "She came in place of her +brother, who met with a slight accident just as he was starting." + +Somehow or other, he fancied that Elisabeth was pleased. + +"I didn't think that it was like you to have a woman secretary," she +remarked. + +He smiled as he replied: + +"Miss Thurnbrein is a very earnest worker and a real humanitarian. She +has written articles about woman labour in London." + +"Julia Thurnbrein!" Elisabeth exclaimed. "Yes, I have read them. If +only I had known that that was she! I should have liked so much to have +talked to her. Do you think that she would come and see me, or let me +come and see her? We really do want to understand these things, and it +seems to me, somehow, that people like Julia Thurnbrein, and all those +who really understand, keep away from us wilfully. They won't exchange +thoughts. They believe that we are their natural enemies. And we +aren't, you know. There isn't any one I'd like to meet and talk with so +much as Julia Thurnbrein." + +He nodded sympathetically. + +"They are prejudiced," he admitted. "All of them are disgusted with me +for being down here. They look with grave suspicion upon my ability to +wear a dress suit. It is just that narrowness which has set back the +clock a hundred years. . . . How I like your idea of an open-air +drawing-room! Mr. Foley hasn't been looking for me, has he? I am due +in his study in three minutes." + +Her finger touched his arm. + +"Come with me for one moment," she insisted, a little abruptly. + +She led him down one of the walks--a narrow turf path, leading through +great clumps of rhododendrons. At the bottom was the wood where the +nightingale had his home. After a few paces she stopped. + +"Mr. Maraton," she said, "this may be our last serious word together, +for when you have talked with my uncle you will have made your decision. +Look at me, please." + +He looked at her. Just then the nightingale began to sing again, and +curiously enough it seemed to him that a different note had crept into +the bird's song. It was a cry for life, an absolutely pagan note, which +came to him through the velvety darkness. + +"Isn't it your theory," she whispered, "to destroy for the sake of the +future? Don't do it. Theory sometimes sounds so sublime, but the +present is actually here. Be content to work piecemeal, to creep +upwards inch by inch. Life is something, you know. Life is something +for all of us. No man has the right to destroy it for others. He has +not even the right to destroy it for himself." + +Maraton was suddenly almost giddy. For a moment he had relaxed and that +moment was illuminating. Perhaps she saw the fire which leapt into his +eyes. If she did, she never quailed. Her head was within a few inches +of his, his arms almost touching her. She saw but she never moved. If +anything, she drew a little nearer. + +"Speak to me," she begged. "Give me some promise, some hope." + +He was absolutely speechless. A wave of reminiscence had carried him +back into the study, face to face with an accuser. He read meaning in +Julia's words now, a meaning which at the time they had not possessed. +It was true that he was being tempted. It was true that there was such +a thing in the world as temptation, a live thing to the strong as well +as to the weak. + +"You could be great," she murmured. "You could be a statesman of whom +we should all be proud. In years to come, people would understand, they +would know that you had chosen the nobler part. And then for +yourself--" + +"For myself," he interrupted, "for myself--what?" + +Her lips parted and closed again. She looked at him very steadily. + +"Don't you think," she asked quietly, "that you are, more than most men, +the builder of your own life, the master of your own fate, the +conqueror--if, indeed, you desired to possess?" + +She was gone, disappearing through a winding path amongst the bushes +which he had never noticed. He heard the trailing of her skirts; the +air around him was empty save for a breath of the perfume shaken from +her gown, and the song of the bird. Then he heard her call to him. + +"This way, Mr. Maraton--just a little to your left. The path leads +right out on to the lawn." + +"Is it a maze?" he asked. + +"A very ordinary one," she called back gaily. "Follow me and I will +lead you out." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Mr. Foley and Lord Armley were waiting together in the library--not the +smaller apartment into which Julia had been shown, but a more spacious, +almost a stately room in the front part of the house. Upon Maraton's +entrance, Lord Armley changed his position, sitting further back amongst +the shadows in a low easy-chair. Maraton took his place so that he was +between the two men. It was Lord Armley who asked the first question. + +"Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you an Englishman?" + +"I think that I may call myself so," Maraton replied, with a smile. "I +was born in America, but my parents were English." + +"I asked," Lord Armley continued, "whether you were an Englishman, for +two reasons. One was--well, perhaps you might call it curiosity; the +other because, if you are an Englishman, Mr. Foley and I are going to +make a strong and I hope successful appeal to your patriotism." + +"I am afraid," Maraton replied, "that you will be appealing to a +sentiment of which I am ignorant." + +"Do you mean," Mr. Foley asked, "that you have no impulse of affection +for your own country?" + +"For my country as she exists at present, none at all," Maraton +answered. "That is where I am afraid we shall find this conference so +unsatisfactory. I am not subject to any of the ordinary convictions of +life." + +"That certainly makes the task of arguing with you a little difficult," +Mr. Foley admitted. "We had hoped that the vision of this country +overrun by a triumphant enemy, our towns and our pleasant places in the +hands of an alien race, our women subject to insults from them, our men +treated with scorn--we had an idea that the vision of these things might +count with you for something." + +"For nothing at all," Maraton replied. "I am not sure that a successful +invasion of this country would not be one of the best medicines she +could possibly have." + +"Are you serious, sir?" Lord Armley asked grimly. + +"Absolutely," Maraton answered, without a second's hesitation. "You +people have, after all, only an external feeling for the deficiencies of +your social system. You don't feel, really--you don't understand. To +me, England at the present day--the whole of civilization, indeed, but +we are speaking now only of England--is suffering from an awful disease. +To me she is like a leper. I cannot think that any operation which +could cure her is too severe. She may have to spend centuries in the +hospital, but some day the light will come." + +"When you talk like that," Mr. Foley declared, "you seem to us, Mr. +Maraton, to pass outside the pale of logical argument. But we want to +understand you. You mean that for the sake of altering our social +conditions, you would, if you thought it necessary, let this country be +conquered, plunge her for a hundred years or more into misery deeper +than any she has yet known? What good do you suppose could come of +this? The poor who are poor now would starve then. From whom would +come the mammoth war indemnity we should have to pay?" + +"Not from the poor," Maraton replied. "That is one of my theories. It +would come from the very class whom I would willingly see enfeebled--the +greedy, grasping, middle class. The poor must exist automatically. +They could not exist on lower wages; therefore, they will not get lower +wages. If there is no employment for them, they will help themselves to +the means for life. If there is money in the country, they have a right +to a part of it and they will take it. The unfit amongst them will die. +The unfit are better dead." + +"This is a dangerous doctrine, Mr. Maraton," Lord Armley remarked. + +"It is a primitive law," Maraton answered. "Put yourself down amongst +the people, with a wife by your side and children crying to you for +bread. Would you call yourself a man if you let them starve, if you +sent your children sobbing away from you when there was bread to be had +for the fighting, bread to be taken from those who had also meat? I +think not. I am not afraid of plunging the country into disaster. It +is my belief that the sufferings and the loss which would ensue would +not fall upon the class who are already dwelling in misery." + +Mr. Foley moved nervously to the mantelpiece and helped himself to a +cigarette. + +"Mr. Maraton," he said, "we will not argue on these lines. I like to +feel my feet upon the earth. I like to deal with the things one knows +about. Grant me this, at least; that it is possible to reach the end at +which you are striving, by milder means?" + +"It may be," Maraton admitted. "I am not sure. Milder means have been +tried for a good many generations. I tell you frankly that I do not +believe it is possible by legislation to redistribute the wealth of the +world." + +Lord Armley, from his seat amongst the shadows, smiled sarcastically. + +"You, too, Mr. Maraton," he murmured. "What is your answer, I wonder, +to the oft quoted question? You may redistribute wealth, but how do you +propose to keep it in a state of equilibrium?" + +Maraton smiled. + +"There would have to be three, perhaps half-a-dozen--who can tell how +many?--redistributions by violent means," he replied, "but remember that +all this time, education, clean living, freedom from sordid anxieties, +would be telling upon the lower orders. As their physical condition +improved, so would their minds. As the conditions under which men live +become more equal, so will their brains become more equal and their +power of acquiring wealth. This, remember, may be the work of a hundred +years--perhaps more--but it is the end at which we should aim." + +"You absolutely mean, then," Mr. Foley persisted, "to destroy the +welfare of the country for this generation and perhaps the next, in +order that a new people may arise, governed according to your methods, +in ages which neither you nor I nor any of us will ever see?" + +"That is what I mean," Maraton assented. "Need I remind you that if we +had not possessed in the past men who gave their lives for the sake of +posterity, the nations of the world would be even in a more backward +condition than they are to-day?" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Mr. Maraton," he said, "now I am going to ask you this question. +To-morrow you go to Manchester to pronounce your doctrines. To-morrow +you are going to incite the working people of England practically to +revolt. Are you going to tell them that it is for posterity they must +strike? Do you mean, when you thunder at them from the platforms, to +tell them the truth?--to tell them that the good which you promise is +not for them nor for their children, nor their children's children, but +for the unborn generations? Do you mean to tell them this?" + +Maraton was silent. Lord Armley was watching him closely. Mr. Foley's +eyes were bright, and a little flush had stained the parchment pallor of +his cheeks. He was feeling all the thrill of the fencer who has +touched. + +"I cannot convince you, Mr. Maraton," he went on, "that yours is not a +splendid dream, an idyllic vision, which would fade from the canvas +before even the colours were dry, but you have common sense, and I hope +at least I can persuade you to see this. You won't rally the working +men of England to your standard under that motto. That's why their +leaders are ignorant and commonplace men. They know very well that it's +to the pockets of their hearers they must appeal. A shilling a week +more now is what they want, not to have their children born to a better +life, and their children's children move on the upward plane. Human +nature isn't like that, especially the human nature which I admit has +suffered from the selfishness and greediness of the middle classes +through all these years. The people aren't ready to dream dreams. They +want money in their pockets, cash, so much a week--nothing else. I tell +you that self-interest is before the eyes of every one of those +Lancashire operatives to whom you are going to speak. An hour or so +less work a week, an ounce more of tobacco, a glass of beer when he +feels inclined, a little more money in the bank--that's what he wants." + +"You may be speaking the truth, Mr. Foley," Maraton confessed quietly. +"At any rate, you have voiced some of my deepest fears. I know that I +cannot bring the people to my standard by showing them the whole of my +mind. But why should I? If I know that my cause is just, if I know +that it is for the good of the world, isn't it my duty to conceal as +much as I find it wise to conceal, to keep my hand to the plough, even +though I drive it through the fields of devastation?" + +"Then your mission is not an honest one," Lord Armley declared suddenly. +"It is dishonest that good things may come of it." + +"It is possible to reason like that," Maraton admitted. + +"Now, listen," Mr. Foley continued. "I will show you the other way. I +will look with you into the future. I cannot agree with all your views +but I, too, would like to see the diminution of capital from the hands +of the manufacturers and the middle classes, and an increase of +prosperity to the operatives. I would like to see the gulf between them +narrowed year by year. I would like to see the working man everywhere +established in quarters where life is wholesome and pleasant. I would +like to see his schools better, even, than they are at present. I would +like to see him, in the years to come, a stronger, a more capable, a +more dignified unit of the Empire. He can only be made so by +prosperity. Therefore, I wish for him prosperity. You want to sow the +country red with ruin and fire, and there isn't any man breathing, not +even you, can tell exactly what the outcome of it all might be. I want +to work at the same thing more gently. Last year for the first time, I +passed a Bill in Parliament which interfered between the relations of +master and man. In a certain trade dispute I compelled the employers, +by Act of Parliament, to agree to a vital principle upon which the men +insisted. The night I drove home from the House I said to Lady +Elisabeth, my niece, that that measure, small though it was, marked a +new era in the social conditions of the country. It did. What I have +commenced, I am prepared to go on with. I am prepared by every logical +and honest means to legislate for labour. I am prepared to legislate in +such a way that the prosperity of the manufacturer, all the +manufacturers in this country, must be shared by the workpeople. I am +prepared to fight, tooth and nail, against twenty per cent dividends on +capital and twenty-five shillings a week wages for the operative. There +are others in the Cabinet of my point of view. In a couple of years we +must go to the country. I am going to the country to ask for a people's +government. Go to Manchester, if you must, but talk common sense to the +people. Let them strike where they are subject to wrongs, and I promise +you that I am on their side, and every pressure that my Government can +bring to bear upon the employers, shall be used in their favour. You +shall win--you as the champion of the men, shall win all along the line. +You shall improve the conditions of every one of those industries in the +north. But--it must be done legitimately and without sinister +complications. I know what is in your mind, Mr. Maraton, quite well. +I know your proposal. It is in your mind to have the railway strike, +the coal strike, the ironfounders' strike, and the strike of the +Lancashire operatives, all take place on the same day. You intend to +lay the country pulseless and motionless. You won't accept terms. You +court disaster--disaster which you refer to as an operation. Don't do +it. Try my way. I offer you certain success. I offer you my alliance, +a seat in Parliament at once, a place in my Government in two years' +time. What more can you ask for? What more can you do for the people +than fight for them side by side with me?" + +Maraton had moved a little nearer to the window. He was looking out +into the night. Very faintly now in the distant woods he could still +catch the song of the nightingale. Almost he fancied in the shadows +that he could catch sight of Julia's strained face leaning towards him, +the face of the prophetess, warning him against the easy ways, calling +to him to remember. His principles had been to him a part of his life. +What if he should be wrong? What if he should bring misery and +suffering upon millions upon millions, for the sake of a generation +which might never be born? There was something practical about Mr. +Foley's offer, an offer which could have been made only by a great man. +His brain moved swiftly. As he stood there, he seemed to look out upon +a vast plain of misery, a country of silent furnaces, of smokeless +chimneys, a country drooping and lifeless, dotted with the figures of +dying men and women. What an offering! What a sacrifice? Would the +people still believe in him when the blow fell? Could he himself pass +out of life with the memory of it all in his mind, and feel that his +life's work had been good? He remained speechless. + +"Let me force one more argument upon you," Mr. Foley continued. "You +must know a little what type of mind is most common amongst Labour. I +ask you what will be the attitude of Labour towards the starvation of +the next ten or twenty years, if you should bring the ruin you threaten +upon the country? I ask you to use your common sense. Of what use +would you be? Who would listen to you? If they left you alive, would +any audience of starving men and women, looking back upon the +comparative prosperity of the past, listen to a word from your lips. +Believe me, they would not. They would be more likely, if they found +you, to rend you limb from limb. The operatives of this country are not +dreamers. They don't want to give their wives and children, and their +own selves, body and soul, for a dream. Therefore, I come back to the +sane common sense of the whole affair. By this time next year, if you +use your power to bring destruction upon this country, your name will be +loathed and detested amongst the very people for whose sake you do it." + +Maraton turned away. + +"You have put some of my own fears before me, Mr. Foley," he confessed, +"in a new and very impressive light. If I thought that I myself were +the only one who could teach, you would indeed terrify me. The +doctrines in which I believe, however, will endure, even though I should +pass." + +"Endure to be discarded and despised by all thinking men!" Lord Armley +exclaimed. + +"You may be right," Maraton admitted, slowly. "I cannot say. Will you +forgive me if I make you no answer at all to-night? My thoughts are a +little confused. You have made me see myself with your eyes, and I wish +to reconsider certain matters. Before I go, perhaps you will give me +ten minutes more to discuss them?" + +Mr. Foley was still a little flushed as they shook hands. + +"I am glad," he declared, "very glad that you are at least going to +think over what I have said. You must have common sense. I have read +your book, backwards and forwards. I have read your articles in the +American reviews and in the English papers. There is nothing more +splendid than the visions you write of, but there is no gangway across +from this world into the world of dreams, Mr. Maraton. Remember that, +and remember, too, how great your responsibility is. I have never tried +to hide from you what I believe your real power to be. I have always +said that the moment a real leader was found, the country would be in +danger. You are that leader. For God's sake, Mr. Maraton, realise +your responsibility! . . . Now shall we go back into the gardens or +into the drawing-room? My niece will sing to us, if you are fond of +music." + +Maraton excused himself and slipped out into the gardens alone. For +more than an hour he walked restlessly about, without relief, without +gaining any added clearness of vision. The atmosphere of the place +seemed to him somehow enervating. The little 'walk amongst the +rhododendrons was still fragrant 'with perfume, reminiscent of that +strange moment of emotion. The air was still languorous. Although the +nightingale's song had ceased, the atmosphere seemed still vibrating +with the music of his past song. He stood before the window of the room +where he had talked with Julia. What would she say, he wondered? Would +she think that he had sold his soul if he chose the more peaceful way? +It was a night of perplexed thoughts, confused emotions. One thing only +was clear. For the first time in his life certain dreams, which had +been as dear to him as life itself, had received a shattering blow. +Always he had spoken and acted from conviction. It was that which had +given his words their splendid force. It was that which had made the +words which he had spoken live as though they had been winged with fire. +Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he should have avoided altogether +this house of the easier ways. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +From the atmosphere of Lyndwood Park and its surroundings--fragrant, +almost epicurean--Maraton passed to the hard squalor of the great +smoke-hung city of the north. There were no beautiful women or cultured +men to bid him welcome. The Labour Member and his companion, who +hastened him out of the train at Derby and into an open motor-car, were +hard-featured Lancashire men, keen on their work and practical as the +day. As they talked together in that long, ugly ride, Maraton almost +smiled as he thought of those perfervid dreams of his which had always +been at the back of his head; that creed of life, some part of which he +had intended to unfold to the people during these few days. + +"Plain-speaking is what our folk like," John Henneford assured him, as +they sat side by side in the small open car driven by one of the +committee; "plain, honest words; sound advice, with a bit o' grit in +it." + +"'To hell with the masters!' is the motto they like best," Preston +remarked, moving his pipe to the corner of his mouth. "It's an old text +but it's an ever popular one. There's the mill where I work, now, +fourteen hundred of us. The girls average from eighteen bob to a pound +a week, men twenty-four to twenty-eight, foremen thirty-five to two +pounds. It's not much of wages. The house rent's high in these parts, +and food, too. The business has just been turned into a +company--capital three hundred thousand pounds, profits last year +forty-two thousand. That's after paying us our bit. That's the sort of +thing turns the blood of the people sour up here. It was the +aristocrats brought about the revolution in France. It will be the +manufacturers who do it here, and do it quick unless things are altered. +They tell me you're a bit of a revolutionist, Mr. Maraton." + +"I'm anything," Maraton answered, "that will do away with such profits +as you've been speaking of. I am anything which will bring a fair +share of the profits of his labour to the operative who now gets none. +I hate capital. It's a false quantity, a false value. It's got to come +back to the people. It belongs to them." + +"You're right, man," Henneford declared grimly. "How are you going to +get it back, eh? Show us. We are powerful up here. We could paralyse +trade from the Clyde to the Thames, if we thought it would do any good. +What's your text to-night, Mr. Maraton?" + +"I haven't thought," Maraton replied. "I have plenty to say to the +people though." + +"You gave 'em what for in Chicago," Preston remarked, with a grin. + +"I haven't been used to mince words," Maraton admitted. + +"There's four thousand policemen told off to look after you," Henneford +informed him. "By-the-bye, is it true that Dale and all of them are +coming up to-night?" + +Maraton nodded. + +"I wired for some of them," he assented. "So long as I am going to make +a definite pronouncement, they may as well hear it." + +"Been spending the week-end with Foley, haven't you?" Preston enquired, +closing his eyes a little. + +Maraton nodded. "Yes," he confessed, "I have been there." + +"There are many that don't think much of Foley," Henneford remarked. +"Myself I am not sure what to make of him. I think he'd be a people's +man, right enough, if it wasn't for the Cabinet." + +"I believe, in my heart," Maraton said, "that he is a people's man." + +They sped on through deserted spaces, past smoke-stained factories, +across cobbled streets, past a wilderness of small houses, grimy, +everywhere repellent. Soon they entered Manchester by the back way and +pulled up presently at a small and unimposing hotel. + +"We've taken a room for you here," Henneford announced. "It's close to +the hall, and it's quiet and clean enough. The big hotels I doubt +whether you'd ever be able to get out of, when once they found where you +were." + +"As a matter of fact," Preston added, "there's a room taken in your name +at the Midland, to put folks off a bit. We'll have to smuggle you out +here if there's any trouble to-night. The people are rare and +restless." + +"It will do very nicely, I am sure," Maraton replied. + +The place was an ordinary commercial hotel, clean apparently but +otherwise wholly unattractive. Henneford led the way up-stairs and with +some pride threw open the door of a room on the first floor. "We've got +you a sitting-room," he said. "Thought you might want to talk to these +Press people, perhaps, or do a bit of work. Your secretary's somewhere +about the place--turned up with a typewriter early this morning. And +there's a young woman--" + +"A what?" Maraton asked. + +"A young woman," Henneford continued,--"secretary's sister or +something." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Miss Thurnbrein." + +"What, the tailoress?" Preston replied. "She's a good sort. Wrote rare +stuff, she did, about her trade. They are out together, seeing the +sights. Didn't expect you quite so soon, I expect." + +Maraton looked around the little sitting-room. It was furnished with a +carpet of bright green thrown over a foundation of linoleum, a suite of +stamped magenta plush, an overmantel, gilt cornices over the windows, a +piano, a table covered with a gaudy tablecloth. On the walls were hung +some oleographs. The lighting of the room was of gas with incandescent +mantles. There had been, apparently, judging by an odour which still +remained, a great deal of beer consumed in the apartment at one time or +another. + +"Nice room, this," Mr. Henneford remarked approvingly. "Slap up, ain't +it? Your bedroom's next door, and your secretary's just round the +corner. Done you proud, I reckon. Like a royal suite, eh?" + +He laughed good-humouredly. Mr. Preston removed his pipe and rang the +bell. + +"One drink, I think," he suggested, "and we'll leave Mr. Maraton alone +for a bit. You and I'll go down to the station and meet the chaps from +London, and we'll have a meeting up here--say at five o'clock. That +suit you, Mr. Maraton?" + +"Excellently," Maraton assented. "What shall I order?" he asked, as the +waiter entered. + +Beer, whiskey and cigars were brought. Maraton asked a few eager +questions about the condition of one of the industries, and followed +Henneford to the door, talking rapidly. + +"I know so little about the state of woman labour over here," he said. +"In America they are better paid in proportion. Perhaps, if Miss +Thurnbrein is here, she will be able to give me some information." + +"You'll soon get posted up," Mr. Henneford declared. "I can see you've +got a quick way of dealing with things. So long till five o'clock, +then. There's a dozen chaps waiting down-stairs to see you. We'll +leave it to your judgment just what you want to say to the Press. Ring +the bell and have the waiter bring their cards up." + +They departed and Maraton returned to his sitting-room. He stood for a +moment looking out over the city, the roar of which came to him clearly +enough through the open window. He forgot the depressing tawdriness of +his surroundings in the exhilaration of the sound. He was back again +amongst the people, back again where the wheels of life were crashing. +The people! He drew himself up and his eyes sought the furthest limits +of that dim yellow haze. Somehow, notwithstanding a vague uneasiness +which hung about him like an effort of wounded conscience, he had a +still greater buoyancy of thought when he considered his possibly +altered attitude towards the multitude who waited for his message. He +felt his feet upon the earth with more certainty, with more implicit +realism, than in those days when he had spoken to them of the future and +had perhaps forgotten to tell them how far away that future must be. +There was something more practical about his present attitude. What +would they say here in Manchester, expecting fire and thunder from his +lips and finding him hold out the olive branch? He shrugged his +shoulders;--a useless speculation, after all. He rang the bell and +glanced through the cards which the waiter brought him. + +"I have nothing of importance to say to any reporters," he declared, +"but I will see them all for two minutes. You can show them up in the +order in which they came." + +The waiter withdrew and Maraton was left for a few moments alone. Then +the door was opened and closed again by the waiter, who made no +announcement. A man came forward--a small man, very neatly dressed, +with gold spectacles and a little black beard. Maraton welcomed him and +pointed to a chair. + +"I have nothing whatever to say to the newspapers," he explained, "until +after I have addressed my first few meetings. You probably will have +nothing to ask me then. All the same, I am very pleased to see you, and +since you have been waiting, I thought I had better have you come up, if +it were only for a moment. No one who has a great cause at their backs, +you know, can afford to disregard the Press." + +The man laid his hat upon the table. Maraton, glancing across the room +at him, was instantly conscious that this newcomer was no ordinary +person. He had a strong, intellectual forehead, a well-shaped mouth. +His voice, when he spoke, was pleasant, although his accent was +peculiar--almost foreign. + +"Mr. Maraton," his visitor began, "I thank you very much for your +courtesy, but I have nothing to do with the Press. My name is Beldeman. +I have come to Manchester especially to see you." + +Maraton nodded. + +"We are strangers, I believe?" he asked. + +"Strangers personally. No thinking man to-day is a stranger to Mr. +Maraton in any other way." + +"You are very kind," Maraton replied. "What can I do for you?" + +Beldeman glanced towards the door so as to be sure that it was closed. + +"Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you a bad-tempered man?" + +"At times," Maraton admitted. + +"I regret to see," his visitor proceeded, "that you are a man of +superior physique to mine. I am here to make you an offer which you may +consider an insult. If you are a narrow, ordinary Englishman, +obstinate, with cast-iron principles and the usual prejudices, you will +probably try to throw me down-stairs. It is part of my living to run +the risk of being thrown down-stairs." + +"I will do my best," Maraton promised him, "to restrain myself. You +have at least succeeded in exciting my curiosity." + +"I am, to look at," Mr. Beldeman continued, "an unimportant person. As +a matter of fact, I represent a very great country, and I come to you +charged with a great mission." + +Maraton became a little graver. "Go on," he said. + +"I am anxious--perhaps over-anxious," Mr. Beldeman proceeded, "that I +should put this matter before you in the most favourable light. I must +confess that I have spent hours trying to make up my mind exactly how I +should tell you my business. I have changed my mind so many times that +there is nothing left of my original intention. I speak now as the +thoughts come to me. I am here on behalf of a syndicate of +manufacturers--foreign manufacturers--to offer you a bribe." + +Maraton stood quite still upon the hearth-rug. His face showed no +emotion whatever. + +"You are, I believe," Mr. Beldeman went on, "only half an Englishman. +That is why I am hoping that you will behave like a reasonable being, +and that my person may be saved from violence. Upon your word rests the +industrial future of this country for the next ten years. If your +forges burn out and your factories are emptied, it will mean an era of +prosperity for my country, indescribable. We are great trade rivals. +We need just the opening. What we get we may not be able to hold +altogether, when trade is once more good here, but that is of no +consequence. We shall have it for a year or two, and that year or two +will mean a good many millions to us." + +Maraton's eyes began to twinkle. + +"The matter," he remarked, "becomes clearer to me. You are either the +most ingenuous person I ever met, or the most subtle. Tell me, is it a +personal bribe you have brought?" + +"It is not," Mr. Beldeman replied. "It did not occur to those in whose +employment I am, or to me, to offer you a single sixpence. I am here to +offer you, if you send your people out on strike within the next +week--the coal strike, the railway strike, the ironfounders, the +smelters, from the Clyde southwards--one million pounds as a +subscription to your strike funds." + +"You have it with you?" Maraton enquired, after a moment. + +"I have four drafts for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds each, in +my pocket-book at the present moment," Mr. Beldeman declared. "They +are payable to your order. You can accept my offer and pay them into +your private banking account or the banking account of any one of your +Trades' Unions. There is not the slightest doubt but that they will be +met." + +"Are there any terms at all connected with this little subscription?" + +"None," Beldeman replied. + +"And your object," Maraton added, "is to benefit through our loss of +trade?" + +"Entirely," Mr. Beldeman assented, without a quiver upon his face. + +Maraton was silent for a moment. + +"I do not see my way absolutely clear," he announced, "to recommending a +railway strike at the present moment. If I acceded to all the others, +what would your position be? The railway strike is of little +consequence to a foreign nation. The coal strike, and the iron and +steel works of Sheffield and Leeds closed--that's where English trade +would suffer most, especially if the cotton people came out." + +Mr. Beldeman shook his head slowly. "My conditions," he said, "embrace +the railways." + +"Somehow, I fancied that they would," Maraton remarked. "Tell me why?" + +Beldeman rose slowly to his feet. + +"Are you an Englishman?" he asked. + +"I can't deny it," Maraton replied. "I was born abroad. Why are you so +interested in my nationality?" + +Beldeman shrugged his shoulders. + +"I cannot tell you. Just an idea. I do not wish to say too much. I +wish you only to consider what a million pounds will do to help your +work people. You, they say, are one of those who love the people as +your own children. A million pounds may enable them to hold out until +they can secure practically what terms they like. Those million pounds +are yours to-day, yours for the people, if you pledge your word to a +universal strike." + +"Including the railways?" + +"Including the railways," Mr. Beldeman assented. + +Maraton smiled quietly. + +"I do not ask you," he said, "what country you represent. I think that +it is not necessary. You have come to me rather as though I were a +dictator. There are others besides myself with whom influence rests." + +"It is you only who count," Mr. Beldeman declared. "I am thankful that +at any rate you have met my offer in a reasonable spirit. Accept it, +Mr. Maraton. What concern have you for other things save only for the +welfare of the people?" + +"I have considered this matter," Maraton remarked, "many, many times. A +universal strike, absolutely universal so far as regards transport and +coal, would place the country in a paralytic and helpless condition. +Still, so many people have assured us that an onslaught from any foreign +country is never seriously to be considered, that I have come to believe +it myself. What is your opinion?" + +Mr. Beldeman remained silent for a few moments. + +"One cannot tell," he said. "The stock of coal available for your home +fleet happens to be rather low just now. One cannot tell what might +happen. Do you greatly care? Wasn't it you who, in one of your +speeches, pointed out that a war in your country would be welcome? That +the class who would suffer would be the class who are your great +oppressors--the manufacturers, the middle classes--and that with their +downfall the working man would struggle upwards? Do you believe, Mr. +Maraton, that a war would hurt your own people?" + +"My own ideas," Maraton replied, "are in a state of transition. +However, your offer is declined." + +"Declined without conditions?" Mr. Beldeman enquired, taking up his +hat. + +"For the present it is declined without conditions. I will be quite +frank with you. Your offer doesn't shock me as it might do if I were a +right-feeling Imperialist of the proper Jingo type. I believe that a +week ago I should have considered it very seriously indeed. Its +acceptance would have been in accordance with my beliefs. And yet, +since you have made it, you have made me wonder more than ever whether I +have been right. I find a revulsion of feeling in considering it, which +I cannot understand." + +"I may approach you again," Mr. Beldeman asked, "if circumstances +should change? Possibly you yourself may, upon reflection, appreciate +my suggestion more thoroughly." + +Maraton was silent for a moment. When he looked up he was alone. Mr. +Beldeman had not waited for his reply. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +One by one, Maraton got rid at last of the little crowd of journalists +who had been waiting for him below. The last on the list was perhaps +the most difficult. He pressed very hard for an answer to his direct +question. + +"War or peace, Mr. Maraton? Which is it to be? Just one word, that's +all." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"In less than an hour, the delegates from London will be here," he +announced. "We shall hold a conference and come to our decision then." + +"Will their coming make any real difference?" the journalist persisted. +"You hadn't much to say to delegates in America." + +"The Labour Party over here is better organised, in some respects," +Maraton told him. "I have nothing to say until after the conference." + +His persistent visitor drew a little nearer to him. + +"There's a report about that you've been staying with Foley." + +"And how does that affect the matter?" Maraton enquired. + +The journalist looked him in the face. + +"The men never had a leader yet," he said, "whom Officialdom didn't +spoil." All this time Maraton was standing with the door in one hand and +his other hand upon the shoulder of the man whom he was endeavouring to +get rid of. His grasp suddenly tightened. The door was closed and the +reporter was outside. Maraton turned to Aaron, with whom, as yet, he +had scarcely exchanged a word. The latter was sitting at a table, +sorting letters. + +"How long will those fellows be?" he asked. + +Aaron glanced at the clock. + +"On their way here by now, I should say," he replied. "They are all +coming. They tried to leave David Ross behind, but he wouldn't have +it." + +Maraton nodded grimly. + +"Too many," he muttered. + +Aaron leaned a little forward in his place. His long, hatchet-shaped +face was drawn and white. His eyes were full of a pitiful anxiety. + +"They were talking like men beside themselves at the Clarion and up at +Dale's house last night," he said. "They were mad about your having +gone to Foley's. Graveling--he was the worst--he's telling them all +that you're up to some mischief on your own account. They are all +grumbling like a lot of sore heads. If they could stop your speaking +here to-night, I believe they would. They're a rotten lot. Before they +got their places in Parliament, they were perfect firebrands. Blast +them!" + +"And you, Aaron--" + +Maraton suddenly paused. The door was softly opened, and Julia stood +there. She was wearing her hat and coat, but her hands were gloveless; +she had just returned from the street. + +"Come in," Maraton invited. "So you're looking after Aaron, are you?" + +"I couldn't keep away," Julia said simply. "I thought I'd better let +you both know that the street below is filling up. They've heard that +you are here. People were running away from before the Midland as I +came round the corner." + +Maraton glanced out of the window. There was a hurrying crowd fast +approaching the front of the hotel. He drew back. + +"I was just on the point of asking Aaron," he remarked, "exactly what it +is that is expected from me to-night. Tell me what is in your mind?" + +Her face lit up as she looked at him. + +"We are like children," she replied, "all of us. We have too much +faith. I think that what we are expecting is a miracle." + +"Is it wise?" Maraton asked quietly. "Don't you think that it may lead +to disappointment?" + +She considered the thought for a moment and brushed it away. + +"We are not afraid, Aaron and I." + +"You are belligerents, both of you." + +"And so are you," Julia retorted swiftly. "What was it you said in +Chicago about the phrase-makers?--the Socialism that flourished in the +study while women and children starved in the streets? Those are the +sort of things that we remember, Aaron and I." + +"This is a country of slow progress," Maraton reminded them. "One +builds stone by stone. Listen to me carefully, you two. Since you have +had understanding, your eyes have been fixed upon this one immense +problem. I have a question to ask you concerning it. Shall I destroy +for the sake of the unborn generations, or shall I use all my cunning +and the power of the people to lead them a little further into the light +during their living days? What would they say themselves, do you think? +Would one in a hundred be content to sacrifice himself for a principle?" + +"Who knows that the millennium would be so long delayed?" Julia +exclaimed. "A few years might see Society reconstituted, with new laws +and a new humanity." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Don't make any mistake about that," he said. "If I press the levers +upon which to-day my hand seems to rest, this country will be laid waste +with famine and riot and conquest. An hour ago a little man was here, a +little, black-bearded man with a quiet voice, charged with a great +mission. He came to offer me, on behalf of a syndicate of foreign +manufacturers, a million pounds towards our universal strike." + +They both gasped. The thing was surely incredible! + +"An incident like that," Maraton continued, "may show you what this +country must lose, for her rivals do not give away a million pounds for +nothing." + +Julia's eyes were fixed upon his. Her face was full of strained +anxiety. + +"You talk," she murmured, "as though you had doubts, as though you were +hesitating. Forgive me--we have waited so long for to-day--we and all +the others." + +"Could any one," he demanded, "stand in the position I stand in to-day +and not have doubts?" + +Her eyes flashed at him. + +"Yes," she cried, "a prophet could! A real man could--the man we +thought you were, could!" + +Aaron leaned forward, aghast. His monosyllable was charged with +terrified reproach. + +"Julia!" + +She turned upon him. + +"You, too! You weren't at Lyndwood, were you? . . . Doubts!" she +went on fiercely, her eyes flashing once more upon Maraton. "How can +you fire their blood if there are doubts in your heart? So long these +people have waited. No wonder their hearts are sick and their brains +are clogged, their will is tired. Prophet after prophet they have +followed blindly through the wilderness. Always it has been the prophet +who has been caught up into the easier ways, and the people who have +sunk back into misery." + +She fell suddenly upon her knees. Before he could stop her, she was at +his feet, her face straining up to his. + +"Forgive me!" she cried. "For the love of the women and the little +children, don't fail us now! If you don't say the word to-night, it +will never be spoken, never in your day nor mine. It isn't legislation +they want any more. It's revolution, the cleansing fires! The land +where the sun shines lies on the other side of the terrible way. Lead +them across. Don't try the devious paths. They have filled you with +the poison of common sense. It isn't common sense that's wanted. It's +only an earthquake can bring out the spirit of the people and make them +see and hold what belongs to them." + +Maraton lifted her up. Her body was quivering. She lay, for a moment, +passive in his arms. Then she sprang away. She stood with her back to +him, looking out of the window. + +"The streets are full of people," she said quietly. "Their eyes are all +turned here. Poor people!" + +Maraton crossed the room and stood by her side. He spoke very gently. +He even took her hand, which lay like a lump of ice in his. + +"Julia," he whispered, "you lose hope and trust too soon." + +"You have spoken of doubts," she answered, in a low tone. "The prophet +has no doubts." + +There was a sound of voices outside, of heavy footsteps on the stairs. +They heard Graveling's loud, unpleasant voice. The delegates had +arrived! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Maraton, with the peculiar sensitiveness of the artist to an altered +atmosphere, was keenly conscious of the change when Julia had left the +room and the delegates had entered. One by one they shook hands with +Maraton and took their places around the table. They had no appearance +of men charged with a great mission. Henneford, who had met them at the +station, was beaming with hospitality. Peter Dale was full of gruff +good-humour and jokes. Graveling alone entered with a scowl and sat +with folded arms and the air of a dissentient. Borden, who complained +of feeling train-sick, insisted upon drinks being served, and Culvain, +with a notebook upon his knee, ostentatiously sharpened a pencil. It +was very much like a meeting of a parish council. Ross alone amongst +the delegates had the absorbed air of a man on the threshold of great +things, and Aaron, from his seat behind Maraton, watched his master all +the time with strained and passionate attention. + +"In the first place," Peter Dale began, "we've no wish to commence this +meeting with any unpleasantness. At the same time, Mr. Maraton, we did +think that after that letter of ours you'd have seen your way clear to +come up to London and cut short that visit to Mr. Foley. We were all +there waiting for you, and there were some of us that didn't take it +altogether in what I might call a favourable spirit, that you chose to +keep away." + +"To tell you the truth," Maraton replied calmly, "I did not see the +faintest reason why I should shorten my visit to Mr. Foley. We had +arranged to meet here to-day and that seemed to me to be quite +sufficient." + +Peter Dale tugged at his beard for a moment. + +"I am not wishful," he reiterated, "to commence a discussion which might +lead to disagreement between us. We'll drop the matter for the present. +Is that agreeable to everybody?" + +There was a little murmur of assent. Graveling only was stolidly +silent. Peter Dale struck the table with his fist. + +"Now then, lads," he said, "let's get on with it." + +"This being mainly my show," John Henneford declared, "I'll come and sit +at your right hand, Mr. Maraton. You've got all the papers I've sent +you about the cotton workers?" + +"I have looked them through," Maraton replied, "but most of their +contents were familiar to me. I made a study of the condition of all +your industries so far as I could, last year." + +"Between you and me," Peter Dale grumbled, "this meeting ought to have +been held in Newcastle and not Manchester. These cotton chaps of yours, +Henneford, ain't doing so badly. It's my miners that want another leg +up." + +Henneford struck the table with his fist. + +"Rot!" he exclaimed. "Your miners have just had a turn. Half-a-crown a +week extra, and a minimum wage--what more do you want? And a piece of +plate and a nice fat cheque for Mr. Dale," he added, turning to the +others and winking. + +Peter Dale beamed good-humouredly upon them. + +"Well," he retorted, "I earned it. You fellows should organise in the +same way. It took me a good many years' hard work, I can tell you, to +bring my lot up to the scratch. Anyway, here we are, and Manchester +it's got to be this time. In an hour, Mr. Maraton, the secretary of +the Manchester Labour Party will be here. He's got two demand scales +made out for you to look through. Your job is to work the people up so +that they drop their tools next Saturday night." + +"There was an idea," Maraton reminded them quietly, "that I should speak +to-night not only to the operatives of Manchester but to Labour +throughout the Empire; that I should make a pronouncement which should +have in it something of a common basis for all industries--which would, +in short, unsettle Labour in every great centre." + +They all looked a little blank. Henneford shook his head. + +"It can't be done," he affirmed. "One job at a time's our way. You're +going to speak to cotton to-night, and we want the mills emptied by the +end of the week. We've got a scheme amongst the Unions, as you know, +for helping one another, and as soon as we ye finished with cotton, then +we'll go for iron." + +"That's an old promise," Weavel declared sturdily. + +"What about the potteries?" Mr. Borden exclaimed. "It's six years +since we had any sort of a dust-up, and my majority was the smallest of +the lot of you, last election. Something's got to be done down my way. +My chaps won't go paying in and paying in forever. We've fifty-nine +thousand pounds waiting, and the condition of our girl labour is +beastly." + +"Iron comes next," Weavel persisted stolidly. "That's been settled +amongst ourselves. And as for your fifty-nine thousand, Borden, what +about our hundred and thirty thousand? We shall all have to be lending +up here, too, to work this thing properly." + +"Let's get on," Peter Dale proposed, rapping on the table. "Now listen +here, all of you. What I propose is, if we're satisfied with Mr. +Maraton's address to-night, as I've no doubt we shall be," he added, +bowing to Maraton with clumsy politeness, "that we appoint him kind of +lecturer to the Unions, and we make out a sort of itinerary for him, to +kind of pave the way, and then he gives one of these Chicago orations of +his at the last moment in each of the principal centres. We'd fix a +salary--no need to be mean about it--and get to work as soon as this +affair's over. And meanwhile, while this strike's on, Mr. Maraton +might address a few meetings in other centres on behalf of these +fellows, and rope in some coin. There are one or two matters we shall +have to have an understanding about, however, and one as had better be +cleared up right now. I'll ask you, Mr. Maraton, to explain to us just +what you meant down at the Clarion the other night? We weren't +expecting you there and you rather took us aback, and we didn't find +what you said altogether helpful or particularly lucid. Now what's this +business about a universal strike?" + +Maraton sat for a moment almost silent. He looked down the table, along +the line of faces, coarse faces most of them, of varying strength, +plebeian, forceful here and there, with one almost common quality of +stubbornness. They were men of the people, all of them, men of the +narrow ways. What words of his could take them into the further land? +He raised his head. He felt curiously depressed, immeasurably out of +touch with these who should have been his helpmates. The sight of Julia +just then would have been a joy to him. + +"Perhaps," Maraton began, with a little sigh, "I had better first +explain my own position. You are each of you Members of Parliament for +a particular district. The interests of each of you are bound up in the +welfare of the operatives who send you to Parliament. It's your job to +look after them, and I've no doubt you do it well. Only, you see, it's +a piecemeal sort of business to call yourselves the representatives of +Labour in its broadest sense. I belong more, I am afraid, to the school +of theorists. In my mind I bring all Labour together, all the toilers +of the world who are slaves to the great Moloch, Capital. You have an +immense middle class here in England, who are living in fatness and +content. The keynote of my creed is that these people have twice the +incomes they ought to have, and Labour half as much. That, of course, +is just the simple, oldfashioned, illogical Socialism with which you +probably all started life, and which doubtless lies in some forgotten +chamber of the minds of all of you. You've given it up because you've +decided that it was unpractical. I haven't. I believe that if we were +to pull down the pillars which hold up the greatness of this nation, I +believe that if we were to lay her in ruins about us, that in the years +to come--perhaps I ought to say the generations to come--the rebuilding, +stone by stone, would be on the sane principle which, once established, +would last for eternity, of an absolute partnership between Capital and +Labour, a partnership which I say would be eternal because, in course of +time, the two would become one." + +They all looked at one another a little blankly. Peter Dale grunted +with expressionless face and relit his pipe, which had gone out during +these few moments of intense listening. Graveling reached out his hand +and took a cigar from a box which had been placed upon the table. +Henneford and his neighbour exchanged glances, which culminated in a +stealthy wink. Alone at the table David Ross sat like a figure of +stone, his mouth a little open, something of the light in his face. + +"I'm too much of an Englishman, for one," Graveling said, "to want to +pull the country down. Now where does this universal strike come in?" + +"The universal strike," Maraton explained quietly, "is the doctrine I +came to England to preach. It is the doctrine I meant to preach +to-night. If your coal strike and your iron strike and your railway +strike were declared within the next few days, the pillars would indeed +be pulled down." + +"Why, I should say so!" Peter Dale declared gruffly. "Half the people +in the country would be starving; there'd be no subscriptions to the +Unions; the blooming Germans would be over here in no time, and we +should lose our jobs." + +"It wouldn't do, Mr. Maraton," Borden said briskly. "It's our job to +improve the position of our constituents, but it's jolly certain we +shouldn't do that by bringing ruin upon the country." + +David Ross suddenly struck the table with his fist. + +"You are wrong, all of you," he cried hoarsely. "You are ignorant men, +thick-headed, fat, narrow fools, full of self-interest and prejudice. +You want your jobs; they come first. I tell you that the man's right. +Purge the country; get rid of the poison of ill-distributed capital, +start again a new nation and a new morning." + +Dale looked across the table, pityingly. + +"What you need, Ross, is a drink," he remarked. "I noticed you weren't +doing yourself very well coming down." + +David Ross rose heavily to his feet. His arm was stretched out towards +Dale and it was the arm of an accuser. + +"Doing myself well!" he repeated, with fierce contempt. "That's the +keynote of your lives, you lazy, self-satisfied swine, who call +yourselves people's men! What do you know or care about the people? +how many of you have walked by day and night in the wilderness and felt +your heart die away within you? How many of you have watched the people +hour by hour--the broken people, the vicious people, the cripples, the +white slaves of crueler days than the most barbarous countries in +history have ever permitted to their children? You understand your +jobs, and you do yourselves well; that's your motto and your epitaph. +There's only one amongst you who's a people's man and that's him." + +He pointed to Maraton and sat down. Peter Dale removed his pipe from +his mouth. + +"It's just as well, David Ross, for you to remember," he said gruffly, +"that you're here on sufferance. Seems to me there's a bit of the dog +in the manger about your whining. I don't know as it matters to any one +particularly what your opinion is, but if you expect to be taken in +along of us, you'll have to alter your style a bit. It's all very well +for the platform, but it don't go down here. Now, lads, let's get on +with business. What I say is this. If Mr. Maraton is going on the +platform to-night to talk anarchy, why then we'd best stop it. We want +subscriptions, we want the sympathy of the British public in this +strike, and there's nothing would make them button up their pockets +quicker than for Mr. Maraton there to go and talk about bringing ruin +upon the Empire for the sake of the people who ain't born yet. That's +what I call thinking in the clouds. There's nowt of good in it for us," +he added, with a momentary and vigorous return into his own vernacular. +"Get it out of thy head, lad, or pack thy bag and get thee back to +America." There was a brief silence. Most of those present had drawn a +little sigh of relief. It was obvious that they were entirely in +agreement with Dale. Only Ross was leaning across the table, his eyes +blinking, drumming upon the tablecloth with the palm of his hand. + +"That's right," he muttered, "that's right. Send him away, the only one +who sees the truth. Send him away. It's dangerous; you might lose your +jobs!" + +Then Maraton spoke quietly from his place. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "I gather one thing, at least, from our brief +conference. You are not extremists. I will bear that in mind. But as +to what I may or may not say to-night, I make no promises." + +"If you're not going to support the strike," Peter Dale declared +sturdily, "then thou shalt never set foot upon the platform. We've had +our fears that this might be the result of your spending the week-end +with Mr. Foley. There's six of us here, all accredited representatives +of great industrial centres, and he's never thought fit to ask one of us +to set foot under his roof. Never mind that. We, perhaps," he added, +with a slow glance at Maraton, "haven't learnt the knack of wearing our +Sunday coats. But just you listen. If Mr. Foley's been getting at you +about this cotton strike, and you mean to throw cold water upon it +to-night, then I tell ye that you're out for trouble. These Lancashire +lads don't stick at a bit. They'll pull you limb from limb if you give +them any of Mr. Foley's soft sawder. We're out to fight--in our own +way, perhaps, but to fight." + +"It is true that I have spent the week-end with Mr. Foley," Maraton +admitted. "I had thought, perhaps, to have reported to you to-day the +substance of our conversation. I feel now, though," he continued, "that +it would be useless. You call yourselves Labour Members, and in your +way you are no doubt excellent machines. I, too, call myself a Labour +man, but we stand far apart in our ideas, in our methods. I think, Mr. +Peter Dale and gentlemen, that we will go our own ways. We will fight +for the people as seems best to us. I do not think that an alliance is +possible." + +They stared at him, a little amazed. + +"Look here, young man," Peter Dale expostulated, "what's it all about? +What do you want from us? I spoke of a job as lecturer just now. If +you've really got the gift of speaking that they say you have, that'll +bring you into Parliament in time, and I reckon you'll settle down fast +enough with the rest of us then. Until then, what is it you want? We +are sensible men. We all know you can't go spouting round the country +for nothing, whether it's for the people, or woman's suffrage, or any +old game. Open your mouth and let's hear what you have to say." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I will, perhaps," he said, "come to you with an offer a little later +on. For the present I must be excused. I have an appointment which Mr. +Henneford has arranged for me with Mr. Preston, Secretary of the Union +here. There are a good many facts I need to make sure of before +to-night." + +Mr. Dale moved his pipe to the other side of his mouth. + +"That's all very well for a tale," he muttered, "but I'm not so sure +about letting you go on to the platform at all to-night. We don't want +our people fed up with the wrong sort of stuff." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Mr. Dale," he begged quietly, "listen." They were all, for a moment, +silent. Maraton opened the window. From outside came a low roar of +voices from the packed crowds who were even now blocking the street. + +"These are my masters, Mr. Dale," Maraton said, "and I don't think +there's any power you or your friends could make use of to-night, which +will keep me from my appointment with them." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +In the roar of applause which followed Maraton's brilliant but wholly +unprepared peroration, a roar which broke and swelled like the waves of +the sea, different people upon the platform heard different things. +Peter Dale and his little band of coadjutors were men enough to know +that a new force had come amongst them. It is possible, even, that +they, hardened as they were by time and circumstances, felt some thrill +of that erstwhile enthusiasm which in their younger days had brought +them out from the ranks of their fellows. To Aaron, listening with +quivering attention to every sentence, it seemed like the consummation +of all his dreams. Julia alone was conscious of a certain restraint, +knew that behind all the deep feeling and splendid hopefulness of +Maraton's words, there was a sense of something kept back. It wasn't +what he had meant to say. Something had come between Maraton and his +passionate dreams of freedom. He, too, had become a particularist. He, +too, was content to preach salvation piecemeal. He had spoken to them +at first simply, as one worker to another. Then he had drifted out into +the larger sea, and for those few moments he had been, at any rate, +vigorously in earnest as he had attacked with scorpion-like bitterness +the hideous disproportions which existed between the capitalized +corporation and the labour which supported it. Yet afterwards he had +gone back within himself. Almost she had expected to see him with his +hands upraised, bidding them tear down these barriers for themselves. +Instead he showed them the legalized way, not to free humanity, but to +ensure for themselves a more comfortable place in life. It was all very +magnificent. The strike was assured now, almost the success of it. + +It was long before they let him leave the platform. In the droning +impotence of the men who followed him, the vast audience seemed to +realise once more the splendid perfection of his wholly natural and +inspiring oratory. They rose and shouted for him, and once again, as he +said a few words, the spell of silence lay upon them. Julia sat telling +herself passionately that all was well, that nothing more than this was +to have been hoped for, that indeed the liberator had come. More than +once she felt Aaron's hands gripping her arm, as Maraton's words seemed +to cleave a way towards the splendid truth. Ross, on her other side, +was like a man carried into another s world. + +"It is the Messiah," he muttered, "the Messiah of suffering men and +women! No longer will they cry aloud for bread and be given stones." + +Everything that happened afterwards seemed, in a way, commonplace. When +at last they succeeded in leaving the platform, they had to wait for a +long time in an anteroom while some portion of the immense crowd +dispersed. Peter Dale, as soon as he had lit his pipe, came up to +Maraton and patted him on the shoulder. + +"There's no doubt about thy gift, lad," he said condescendingly. "A man +who can talk as you do has no need to look elsewhere for a living." + +"Gave it to 'em straight," Mr. Weavel assented, "and what I propose is +a meeting at Sheffield--say this day month--and an appeal to the +ironfounders. It's all very well, Borden," he went on, a little +angrily, "but my people are looking for something from me, in return for +their cash. What with these strikes here and strikes there, and a bit +out of it for everybody, why, it's time Sheffield spoke." + +"There's a question I should like to ask," Graveling intervened, +plunging into the discussion, "and that is, why are you so cocksure, Mr. +Maraton, of Government support in favour of the men? You said in your +speech to-night, so far as I remember, that if the masters wouldn't give +in without, Government must force them to see the rights of the matter. +And not only that, but Government should compel them to recognise the +Union and to deal with it. Now you've only been in this country a few +days, and it seemed to me you were talking on a pretty tall order." + +"Not at all," Maraton replied. "I have a scheme of my own, scarcely +developed as yet, a scheme which I wasn't sure, when I came here, that I +should ever make use of, which justified me in saying what I did." + +They looked at him jealously. + +"Is it an arrangement with Mr. Foley that you're speaking of?" Peter +Dale enquired. + +"Perhaps so," Maraton assented. + +There was a dead silence. Maraton was leaning slightly against a +table. Julia was talking to the wife of one of the delegates, a little +way off. The others were all spread around, smoking and helping +themselves to drinks which had just been brought in. Graveling's face +was dark and angry. + +"Are we to gather," he demanded, "that there's some sort of an +understanding between you and Mr. Foley?" + +"If there is," Maraton asked easily, "to whom am I responsible?" + +There was a silence, brief but intense. Julia had turned +her head; the others, too, were listening. Peter Dale was blowing +tobacco smoke from his mouth, Borden was breathing heavily. Graveling's +small eyes were bright with anger and distrust. They were all of +them realising the presence of a new force which had come amongst +them, and already, with the immeasurable selfishness of their class, +they were speculating as to its personal effect upon themselves. Peter +Dale, with his hands in his trousers pockets, and his pipe between +his teeth, elbowed his way to Maraton's side. + +"Young man," he began solemnly, "we'd best have an understanding. Ask +any of these others and they'll tell you I'm the leader of the Labour +Party. Are you one of us or aren't you?" + +"One of you, in a sense, I hope, Mr. Dale," Maraton answered simply. +"Only you must put me down as an Independent. I don't understand +conditions over here yet. Where my own way seems best, I am used to +following it." + +Peter Dale removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke with added +distinctness. + +"Politics over here," he said, "are a simpler game than in the States, +but there's one class of person we've got to do without, and that's the +Independent Member. You can't do anything over here except by sticking +together. If you'll come under the standard, you're welcome. I'll say +nothing about Parliament for a time, but we'll find you all the talking +you want and see that you're well paid for it." + +Looking past the speaker's hard, earnest face, Maraton was conscious of +the scorn flashing in Julia's I eyes. Intuitively he felt her +appreciation of the coarse selfishness of these men, terrified at his +gifts, resisting stubbornly the unwelcome conviction of a new +mastership. Her lips even moved, as though she were signalling to him. +At that moment, indeed, he would have been glad of her guidance. He +needed the machinery which these men controlled, distasteful though +their ideals and methods might be to him. + +"Mr. Dale," he declared, "I am a people's man. I cannot enroll myself +in your party because I fancy that in many ways we should think +differently. But with so many objects in common, it is surely possible +for us to be friends?" + +Ross leaned suddenly forward in his chair, his grey face +passion-stirred, the sweat upon his forehead. + +"Aye!" he cried, "it's the greatest friend or the bitterest enemy of the +people you'll be. You'll do more with that tongue of yours than a +library of books or a century of Parliament, and may it wither in your +mouth if they buy you--those others! God meant you for a people's man. +It'll be hell for you and for us if they buy you away." + +Maraton changed his position a little. He was facing them all now. + +"My friends," he said, "that is one thing of which you need have no +fear. Our methods may be different, we may work in different ways, but +we shall work towards the same goal. Remember this, and remember always +that whether we fight under the same banner or not, I have told it to +you solemnly and from the bottom of my heart. I am a people's man!" + +He turned towards the door and laid his hand upon Aaron's shoulder. +Julia, too, rose and followed him. + +"I think," he added, "that the people will have cleared off by now. I +am going to try and get back to the hotel. I have messages to send +away, and an early train to catch in the morning." + +They were passing out of the room almost in silence, but Henneford +struck the table with his fist. + +"Come," he exclaimed, "we seem in a queer humour to-night! Don't let +Mr. Maraton think too hardly of us. Wherever his place may be in the +future, he's done us a grand service to-night, and don't let's forget +it. He's waked these people up as none other of us could have done. +He's started this strike in such a fashion as none other of us could. +Don't let's forget to be grateful. The education and the oratory isn't +all on the other side now. If we don't see you again to-night, Mr. +Maraton, or before you leave for London, here's my thanks, for one, for +to-night's work, and I'll lay odds that the others are with me." + +They crowded around him after that, and though Graveling stood on one +side and Peter Dale still maintained his attitude of doubt, they all +parted cordially enough. They reached the back door of the hall and +found the shelter of a four-wheeled cab. Before they could start, +however, they were discovered. People came running from all directions. +Looking through the window, they could see nothing but a sea of white +faces. The crazy vehicle rocked from side to side. The driver was +lifted from his seat, the horse unharnessed. Slowly, and surrounded by +a cheering multitude, they dragged the cab through the streets. +Julia, sitting by Maraton's side, felt herself impelled to hold on to +his arm. Her body, her every sense was thrilled with the hoarse, +dramatic roll of their voices, the forest of upraised caps, the strange +calm of the man, who glanced sometimes almost sadly from side to side. +She clutched at him once passionately. + +"Isn't it wonderful!" she murmured. "All the time they call to +you--their liberator!" + +He smiled, and there was a shadow still of sadness in his eyes. + +"It is a moment's frenzy," he said. "They have seen a gleam of the +truth. When the light goes out, the old burden will seem all the +heavier. It is so little that man can do for them." + +They had flung open the top of the cab, and Maraton's eyes were fixed +far ahead at the dull glow which hung over the city, the haze of smoke +and heat, stretching like a sulphurous pall southwards. The roar of +voices was always in his ears, but for a moment his thoughts seemed to +have passed away, his eyes seemed to be seeking for some message beyond +the clouds. He alone knew the full meaning of the hour which had +passed. + + +They were sitting alone in the library, the French windows wide open, +the languorous night air heavy with the perfume of roses and the +sweetness of the cedars, drawn out by the long day's sunshine. Mr. +Foley was sitting with folded arms, silent and pensive--a man waiting. +And by his side was Elisabeth, standing for a moment with her fingers +upon his shoulder. + +"Is that eleven o'clock?" she asked. + +"A quarter past," he answered. "We shall hear in a few minutes now." + +She moved restlessly away. There was something spectral about her in +her light muslin frock, as she vanished through the windows and +reappeared almost immediately, threading her way amongst the flower +beds. Suddenly the telephone bell at Mr. Foley's elbow rang. He +raised the receiver. She came swiftly to his side. + +"Manchester?" she heard him say. . . . "Yes, this is Lyndwood Park. +It is Mr. Foley speaking. Go on." + +There was silence then. Elisabeth stood with parted lips and luminous +eyes, her hand upon his shoulder. She watched him,--watched the slow +movement of his head, the relaxing of his hard, thin lips, the flash in +his eyes. She knew--from the first she knew! + +"Thank you very much, and good night," Mr. Foley said, as he replaced +the receiver. + +Then he turned quickly to Elisabeth and caught her hand. "They say that +Maraton's speech was wonderful," he announced. "He declared war, but a +man's war. Cotton first, and cotton alone." + +She gave a little sobbing breath. Her hands were locked together. + +"England will never know," Mr. Foley added, in a voice still trembling +with emotion, "what she has escaped!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Those wonderful few days at Manchester had passed, and oppressed by the +inevitable reaction, Julia was back at work in the clothing factory. + +She had given up her place by the window to an anaemic-looking child of +seventeen, who had a habit of fainting during these long, summer +afternoons. Her own fingers were weary and she was conscious of an +increasing fatigue as the hours of toil passed on. No breath of air +came in from the sun-baked streets through the wide-flung windows. The +atmosphere of the long, low room, in which over a hundred girls closely +huddled together, were working, was sickly with the smell of cloth. +There was no conversation. The click of the machines seemed sometimes +to her partially dulled senses like the beating out of their human +lives. It seemed impossible that the afternoon would ever end. The +interval for tea came and passed--tea in tin cans, with thick bread +and melting butter. The respite was worse almost than the mechanical +toil. Julia's eyes ranged over the housetops, westwards. There was +another world of trees, flowers, and breezes; another world altogether. +She set her teeth. It was hard to have no place in it. A little time +ago she had been content, content even to suffer, because she was +toiling with these others whom she loved, and for whom, in her profound +pity, she poured out her life and her talents. And now there was a +change. Was it the spell of this cruel summer, she wondered, or was it +something else--some new desire in her incomplete life, something from +which for so many years she had been free? She let her thoughts, +momentarily, go adrift. She was back again in the cab, her fingers +clutching his arm, her heart thrilling with the wonderful passionate +splendour of those few hours. She recalled his looks, his words, his +little acts of kindness. She realised in those few moments how +completely he filled her thoughts. She began to tremble. + +"Better have your place by the window back again, Miss Thurnbrein," the +girl at her side said suddenly. "You're looking like Clara, just before +she popped off. My, ain't it awful!" + +Julia came back to herself and refused the child's offer. + +"I shall be all right directly," she declared. "This weather can't last +much longer." + +"If only the storm would come!" the child muttered, as she turned back +to her work. + +If only the storm would come! Julia seemed to take these words with her +as she passed at last into the streets, at the stroke of the hour. It +was like that with her, too. There was something inside, something +around her heart, which was robbing her of her rest, haunting her +through the long, lonely nights, torturing her through these miserable +days. Soon she would have to turn and face it. She shivered with fear +at the thought. + +In the street a man accosted her. She looked up with an almost guilty +start. A little cry broke from her lips. It was one of disappointment, +and Graveling's unpleasant lips were twisted into a sneer as he raised +his cap. + +"Thought it was some one else, eh?" he remarked. "Well, it isn't, you +see; it's me. There's no one else with a mind to come down here this +baking afternoon to fetch you." + +"I thought it might be Aaron," she faltered. + +"Never mind whom you thought it might have been," he answered gruffly. +"Aaron's busy, I expect, typing letters to all the lords and ladies your +Mr. Maraton hobnobs with. I'm here, and I want to talk with you." + +"I am too tired," she pleaded. "I am going straight home to lie down." + +"I'd thought of that," he answered stubbornly. "I've got a taxicab +waiting at the corner. Not often I treat myself to anything of that +sort. I'm going to take you up to one of those parks in the West End +we've paid so much for and see so little of, and when I get you there +I'm going to talk to you. You can rest on the way up. There's a breeze +blowing when you get out of these infernally hot streets." + +She was only too glad to sink back amongst the hard, shiny leather +cushions of the taxicab, and half close her eyes. The first taste of +the breeze, as they neared Westminster Bridge, was almost ecstatic. +Graveling had lit a pipe, and smoked by her side in silence. "We are +coming out of our bit of the earth now, to theirs," he remarked +presently, as they reached Piccadilly, brilliant with muslin-clad women +and flower-hung windows. "It isn't often I dare trust myself up here. +Makes me feel as though I'd like to go amongst those sauntering swells +and mincing ladies in their muslins and laces, and parasols, and run +amuck amongst them--send them down like a pack of ninepins. Aye, I'd +send them into hell if I could!" + +She was still silent. She felt that she needed all her strength. They +drove on to the Achilles statue, where he dismissed the taxicab. The +man stared at the coin which he was offered, and looked at the register. + +"'Ere!" he exclaimed. "You're a nice 'Un, you are!" + +Graveling turned upon him almost fiercely. + +"If you want a tip," he said, "go and drive some of these fine ladies +and gentlemen about, who've got the money to give. I'm a working man, +and luxuries aren't for me. Be off with you, or I'll call a policeman!" + +He shouldered his way across the pavement, and Julia followed him. Soon +they found a seat in the shade of the trees. She leaned back with a +little sigh of content. + +"Five minutes!" she begged. "Just five minutes!" + +He glanced at his watch, relit his pipe, and relapsed once more into +sombre silence. Julia's thoughts went flitting away. She closed her +eyes and leaned back. She had only one fear now. Would he find out! +He was thick enough, in his way, but he was no fool, and he was already +coarsely jealous. + +"Ten minutes you've had," he announced at last. "Look here, Julia, I've +brought you out to ask you a plain question. Are you going to marry me +or are you not?" + +"I am not," she answered steadily. + +He had been so certain of her reply that his face betrayed no +disappointment. Only he turned a little in his chair so that he could +watch her face. She was conscious of the cruelty of his action. + +"Then I want to know what you are going to do," he continued. "You are +thin and white and worn out. You're fit for something better than a +tailoress and you know it. And you're killing yourself at it. You're +losing your health, and with your health you're losing your power of +doing any work worth a snap of the fingers." + +"It isn't so bad, except this very hot weather," she protested. "Then +I'm secretary to the Guild, you know. I can do my work so much better +when I'm really one of themselves. Besides, they always listen to me at +the meetings, because I come straight from the benches." + +"You've done your whack," he declared. "No need to go on any longer, +and you know it. I can make a little home for you right up in +Hampstead, and you can go on with your writing and lecturing and give up +this slavery. You know you were thinking of it a short time back. +You've no one to consider but yourself. You're half promised to me and +I want you." + +"I am sorry, Richard," she said, "if I have ever misled you, but I hope +that from now onward, at any rate, there need be no shadow of +misunderstanding. I do not intend to marry. My work is the greatest +thing in life to me, and I can continue it better unmarried." + +"It's the first time you've talked like this," he persisted. "Amy +Chatterton, Rachael Weiss, and most of 'em are married. They stick at +it all right, don't they? What's the matter with your doing the same?" + +"Different people have different ideas," she pronounced. "Please be my +friend, Richard, and do not worry me about this. You can easily find +some one else. There are any number of girls, I'm sure, who'd be proud +to be your wife. As for me, it is impossible." + +"And why is it impossible?" he demanded, in a portentous tone. + +"Because I do not care for you in that way," she answered, "and because +I have no desire to marry at all." + +He smoked sullenly at his pipe for several moments. All the time his +eyes were filled with smouldering malevolence. + +"Now I am going to begin to talk," he said. "Don't look as though you +were going to run away, because you're not. I am going to talk to you +about that fellow Maraton." + +"Why do you mention his name?" she asked, stiffening. "What has he to +do with it?" + +"A good deal, to my thinking," was the grim reply. "It's my belief that +you've a fancy for him, and that's why you've turned against me." + +"You've no right to say anything of the sort!" she exclaimed. + +"And, by God, why haven't I?" he insisted, striking his knee with his +clenched fist. "Haven't you been my girl for six years before he came? +You were kind of shy, but you'd have been mine in the end, and you know +it. Waiting was all I had to do, and I was content to wait. And now +he's come along, and I know very well that I haven't a dog's chance. +You're a working lass, Julia, fit mate for a working man. Do you think +he's one of our sort? Not he! Do you think he's for marrying a girl +who works for her bread? If you do, you're a bigger fool than I think +you. He's forever nosing around amongst these swell ladies and +gentlemen with handles to their names, ladies and gentlemen who live on +the other side of the earth to us. He can talk like a prophet, I grant +you, but that's all there is of the prophet about him. People's man, +indeed! He'll be the people's man so long as it pays him and not a +second longer." + +"Have you finished?" she asked quietly. + +"No, nor never shall have finished," he continued, raising his voice, +"while he's playing the rotten game he's at now, and you're mooning +around after him as though he were a god. I'll never stop speaking +until I've knocked the bottom out of that, Julia. You never used to +think anything of fine clothes and all these gentlemen's tricks, it's +all come of a sudden." + +"Have you finished?" she asked again. + +"Never in this life!" he replied fiercely. "I tell you he shan't have +you, and you shan't have him. I'm there between, and I'm not to be got +rid of. I'll take one of you or both of you by the throat and strangle +the life out of you, before I quit. It isn't," he went on, his face +once more disfigured by that ample sneer, "it isn't that I'm afraid of +his wanting to marry you. He won't do that. But he's one of those who +are fond of messing about--philanderer's the word. If he tries it on +with you, he'll find hell before his time! Sit down!" + +She had risen to her feet. He clutched at her skirt. The sense of his +touch--she was peculiarly sensitive to touch--gave her the strength she +needed. She snatched it away. + +"Now," she declared', "you have had your say. This is what you get for +it. You have offended me. Our friendship is forgotten. The less I see +of you, the more content I shall be. And as to what I do or what +becomes of me, it isn't your business. I shall do with myself exactly +as I choose--exactly as I choose, Richard Graveling! You hear that?" +she reiterated, with blazing eyes and tone cruelly deliberate. "I +haven't much in the world, but my body and my soul are my own. I shall +give them where I choose, and on what terms I please. If you try to +follow me, you'll put me to the expense of a cab home. That's all!" + +She walked away with firm footsteps. She felt stronger, more of a woman +than she had done all day. Graveling made no attempt to follow her. He +sat and smoked in stolid silence. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Julia was conscious of a new vitality as she left the Park. She was her +own mistress now; her half tie to Graveling was permanently broken. So +much the better! The man's personality had always been distasteful to +her. She had suffered him only as a fellow worker. His overtures in +other directions had kept her in a continual state of embarrassment, but +in her ignorance as to her own feelings, she had hesitated to speak out. +She put sedulously behind her the question of what had brought this new +enlightenment. + +She took the Tube to the British Museum and went round to see Aaron. +The house was busier than she had ever seen it before; taxicabs were +coming and going, and four or five people sat in the waiting-room. +Aaron looked up and waved his hand as she entered. He was alone in the +study where he worked. + +"Come in," he cried eagerly. "Sit down. It's a joy to see you, Julia, +but I daren't stop working. I've forty or fifty letters to type before +he comes in, and he'll be off again in half-an-hour." + +She sank into an easy chair. The atmosphere of the cool room, with its +opened windows and drawn Venetian blinds, was most restful. + +"Is everything going well, Aaron?" she asked him. + +He nodded. + +"Better than well. There's a telegram just in from Manchester. We are +bound to win there. Did you read Foley's speech?" + +"Yes. Did he mean it all, do you think?" she asked doubtfully. + +"Every word," he replied confidently. "We've got it here in black and +white. There has been a commission appointed. Members of the +Government, if you please--nothing less. The masters have got an +ultimatum. If they refuse, Mr. Foley has asked Maraton to frame a +bill. We've got the sketch of it here already. What do you think of +that, Julia?" + +"I only wish that I knew," she murmured. "What can have happened to Mr. +Foley?" + +"They all do as Maraton bids them!" Aaron ex-claimed triumphantly. "If +only I had four hands! I can't finish, Julia. It's impossible." + + +She sprang up and tore off her gloves. + +"Let me help," she cried eagerly. "You have another typewriter in the +corner there. I can work it, and you know I could always read your +shorthand." + +He accepted her help a little grudgingly. + +"You must be careful, then," he enjoined, with the air of one who +confers a favour. "There must be no mistakes. Begin here and do those +letters. One carbon copy of each. I'll lift the machine on to the +table for you." + +She propped up the book and very soon there was silence in the room, +except for the click of the two typewriters. Presently she stopped +short and uttered a little cry. + +"What is it?" he demanded, without looking up from his work. + +"This letter to the Secretary of the Unionist Association, Nottingham!" + +"Well?" + +"Mr. Maraton is to go there Thursday, to address a meeting,--a Unionist +meeting." + +Aaron glowered at her from over his typewriter. + +"Why not? It's Mr. Foley's idea. He wants Mr. Maraton in Parliament. +Why not?" + +"But as a Unionist!" she gasped. "Nottingham isn't a Labour +constituency at all." + +"He is coming in as a Unionist, so as to have a +free hand. We don't want any interference from Peter Dale and that +lot." + +She looked at him aghast. Peter Dale and his colleagues had been gods a +few weeks ago! + +"Can't you see," Aaron continued irritably, "that the coming of Maraton +has changed many things? A man like that can't serve under anybody, and +no man could come as a stranger and lead the Labour Party. He has to be +outside. This is a working man's constituency. He is pledged to fight +Capital, fight it tooth and nail." + +"I suppose it's all right," Julia said. "It seems different, somehow, +from what we had expected, and he never goes to the Clarion at all." + +"Why should he?" Aaron demanded. "They are all jealous of him, every +one of 'em; Peter Dale is the worst of the lot. Didn't you hear how +they talked to him at Manchester?" + +She nodded, and for a time they went on with their work. She found +herself, however, continually returning to the subject of those vital +differences; the Maraton as they had dreamed of him--the prophet with +the flaming sword, and this wonderfully civilised person. + +"Tell me honestly, Aaron," she asked presently, "what do you think of it +all?--of him--of his methods? You are with him all the time. Haven't +you ever any doubts?" + +She watched him closely. She would have been conscious of the slightest +tremor in his reply, the slightest hesitation. There was nothing of the +sort. He was merely tolerant of her ignorance. + +"No one who knows Maraton," he pronounced, "could fail to trust him." + +After that she asked no more questions. They worked steadily for +another half hour or so. Messages were sometimes brought in to Aaron, +which he summarily disposed of. Julia wondered at the new facility, the +heart-whole eagerness which he devoted to every trifling matter. +Then, just as she was halfway through copying out a pile of figures, +Maraton came in. He stood and watched them in the doorway, half amused, +half surprised. For a moment she kept her head down. Then she looked +up slowly. + +"Since when," he asked, "have I been the proud possessor of two +secretaries?" + +"You left me letters enough for four, sir," Aaron reminded him. "I +wanted to finish them all, so Julia stayed to help me." + +Maraton came smiling towards them. + +"Why, I am afraid I forgot," he said. "In America I used sometimes to +have four typists working. You can't possibly get out all those details +by yourself, Aaron." + +"We shall have finished this lot, anyhow, in an hour." + +"You must get permanent help," Maraton insisted. "Leave off now, both +of you. I want to talk to your sister. Do you know," he went on, +turning towards her, "that I have scarcely seen anything of you since +Manchester?" + +"My work keeps me rather a prisoner," she explained, "and after these +hot days one hasn't much energy left." + +"You are still working at the tailoring?" + +She nodded. + +"I like to be in the midst of it all, but this weather I am almost +afraid I shan't be able to go on. The atmosphere is hateful. It seems +to draw all the life out of one." + +He glanced over her shoulder at the work she had been doing. + +"Why not come to me?" he suggested suddenly. "Aaron needs help. He +can't possibly do everything for himself. I have a thirst for +information, you know. I want statistics on every possible subject. +There are seven or eight big corporations now, whose wages bill I want +to compare with the interest they pay on capital. Aaron doesn't have +time even to answer the necessary letters. I am in disgrace all round. +Do come." + +She was sitting quite still, looking at him. It would have been +impossible for any one to have guessed that his words were like music to +her. + +"But there is my trade," she objected. "After all, I am useful there. +I keep in touch with the girls." + +"You have finished with that," he argued. "You have done your work +there. They all know who you are and what you are. You have lots of +information which would be useful to me. Aaron must have some one to +help him. Why not you? As for the rest, I can afford to pay two +secretaries--you needn't be afraid of that." + +"I never thought of it," she assured him. "I shouldn't want very much +money." + +"Leave that to me," he begged, "only accept. Is it a promise? Come, +make it a promise and we will have an evening off. All day long I seem +to have been moving in a strained atmosphere, talking to men who are +only half in sympathy with me, talking to men who are civil because they +have brains enough to see the truth. I want an hour or two of rest. +Aaron shall telephone to Gardner. I was to have dined with him at his +club, but it is of no importance. He was dining there, anyhow, and the +other places I was going to this evening don't count. Telephone 1718 +Westminster, Aaron, and say that Mr. Maraton is unable to keep his +dinner engagement with Mr. Gardner and begs to be excused. Then we'll +all go out together. What do you say? I have found something almost +like a roof garden. I'll tell you all about New York." + +Her face for a moment shone. Then she looked down at her gown. He +laughed. + +"You have done your day's work and I've done mine," he remarked. "I dare +say of the two, yours is the more worthy. We'll go just as we are. Get +rid of those people who are waiting, Aaron. I had a look at them. They +are all the usual class--cadgers." + +"There is one gentleman whom you must see," Aaron declared. "I didn't +put him in the waiting-room--a Mr. Beldeman. He came to see you in +Manchester." + +"Beldeman!" + +Maraton repeated the name. Then he smiled. + +"A very sensational gentleman," he observed. "Came to offer me--but +never mind, I told you about that. Yes, you're right, Aaron. He is +always interesting. Take your sister away for a few minutes. You can +be getting ready. When I've finished with Mr. Beldeman, we'll start +out. I shan't change a thing." + +Mr. Beldeman entered the room, carrying his hat in his hand, unruffled +by his long wait, to all appearance wearing the same clothes, the same +smile, as on his visit to the hotel in Manchester. Maraton greeted him +good-humouredly. + +"Well, Mr. Beldeman," he began, "you see, I have made things all right +for your syndicate of manufacturers, although I couldn't accept your +offer. Sit down. You won't keep me long, will you? I have to go out. +Perhaps you are going to give me a little for my Lancashire operatives. +They can do with it. Strike pay over here is none too liberal, you +know." + +Mr. Beldeman laid down his hat. He blinked for a moment behind his +gold spectacles. + +"The Lancashire strike," he said softly, "is of very little service to +my principals. As you know, it is more than that for which we were +hoping." + +Maraton nodded but made no remark. + +"My principals," Mr. Beldeman continued, "have watched your career, Mr. +Maraton, for some time. They have studied eagerly your speeches and +your writings, and when you arrived on this side they expected something +more from you. They expected, in fact, the enunciation of a certain +doctrine which you have already propounded with singular eloquence in +other parts of the world. They expected to find it the text of your +first words to Labour in this country. I refer, of course, to the +universal strike." + +"It was my great theory," Maraton admitted, suddenly grave. "I will not +say even now that I have abandoned it. It is in abeyance." + +"My principals," Mr. Beldeman remarked slowly, "would like it to take +place." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Your principals, I presume," he said, "do not imagine that I am on the +earth to gratify them, even though they did offer me--let me see, how +much was it--a million pounds?" + +"This time," Mr. Beldeman went on, "it is not a question of money." + +"Not a question of money," Maraton repeated. "You don't want to buy me? +What do you want to do, then?" + +"We threaten," Mr. Beldeman pronounced calmly. + +Maraton for a moment seemed puzzled. + +"Threaten," he murmured thoughtfully. "Come, do I understand you +properly? Is it assassination, or anything of that sort, you're talking +about?" Beldeman shook his head. + +"Those are methods for extreme cases," he said. "Yours is not an +extreme case. We do not threaten you, Mr. Maraton, with death, but we +do threaten you with the death of your reputation, the end of your +career as a political power in this country, if you do not see your way +clear to act as we desire." + +Maraton stood, for a few seconds, perfectly still. + +"You have courage, Mr. Beldeman," he remarked. + +"Sir," Mr. Beldeman replied, "I have been as near death as most men. +That is why I occupy my present position. I am the special agent of the +greatest political power in the world. When I choose to make use of my +machinery, I can kill or spare, abduct, rob, ruin--what I choose. You I +only threaten. I fancy that will be enough. We have our hold upon the +press of this country." + +Maraton walked to the door and back again. + +"I killed a man once, Mr. Beldeman," he said, "who threatened me." + +"You will not kill me," Mr. Beldeman declared, with gentle confidence +in his tone. + +"If I had known," Maraton continued softly, "I'd have wrung your neck at +Manchester." + +"Quite easy, I should say," Mr. Beldeman agreed. "You look strong. +Without a doubt I could make you desperate. Better be reasonable. My +people want the railway strike, the coal strike, and the iron +strike--want them both within a month. Come, what are you afraid of? +Stick to your colours, Mr. Maraton. Wasn't it in the North. American +Review you declared that a war and conquest were the inevitable prelude +of social reform in this country?" + +"Did I say that?" Maraton asked. + +"You did. Now you are here, you are afraid. Never mind, war and +conquest are to come. We give you a month in which to deliver your +message. You have, I believe, two large meetings to address before that +date. Make your pronouncement and all will be well. The million is +yours for the people." + +"A sort of gigantic blackmail," Maraton remarked drily. + +"You can call it what you like. If you have conditions to make, I am +prepared to listen. I do not insult you by offering--" + +Maraton flung open the door a little noisily. + +"That will do, Mr. Beldeman," he said. "I congratulate you upon the +manner in which you have conducted this interview. I presume I shall +see you again one day before the month is up?" + +"You certainly will," Mr. Beldeman replied. "If you should want me +before--an advance payment or anything of that sort--I am at the Royal +Hotel." + +Maraton was alone in the room. For some moments he remained motionless. +He heard Aaron and Julia in the hall but he did not hasten to join them. +He moved instead to the window and stood watching Beldeman's retreating +form. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Maraton led the way on to the roof of one of London's newer hotels. + +"They won't give us dinner here," he explained. "London isn't civilised +enough for that yet, or perhaps it's a matter of climate. But we can +get all sorts of things to eat, and some wine, and sit and watch the +lights come out. I was here the other night alone and I thought it the +most restful spot in London." + +He called a waiter and had a table drawn up to the palisaded edge of the +roof. Then he slipped something into the man's hand, and there seemed +to be no difficulty about serving them with anything they required. + +"A salad, some sandwiches, a bottle of hock and plenty of strawberries. +We shan't starve, at any rate," Maraton declared. "Lean back in your +chairs, you children of the city, lean down and look at your mother. +Look at her smoke-hung arms, stretched out as though to gather in the +universe; and the lights upon her bosom--see how they come twinkling +into existence." + +Both of them followed his outstretched finger with their eyes, but Julia +only shivered. + +"I hate it," she muttered, "hate it all! London seems to me like a +great, rapacious monster. Our bodies and souls are sacrificed over +there. For what? I was in Piccadilly and the parks to-day. Is there +any justice in the world, I wonder? It's just as though there were a +kink in the great wheels and they weren't running true." + +"Sometimes I think," Maraton declared, "that the matter would right +itself automatically but for the interference of weak people. The laws +of life are tampered with so often by people without understanding. +They keep alive the unworthy. They try to make life easier for the +unfit. They endow hospitals and build model dwellings. It's a sop to +their consciences. It's like planting a flower on the grave of the man +you have murdered." + +"But these things help," Aaron protested. + +"Help? They retard," Maraton insisted. "All charity is the most +vicious form of self-indulgence. Can't you see that if the poor died in +the street and the sick were left to crawl about the face of the earth, +the whole business would right itself automatically. The unfit would +die out. A stronger generation would arise, a generation stronger and +better able to look after itself. But come, we have been serious long +enough. You are tired with your day's work, Miss Julia, and Aaron, too. +I've been in the committee room of the House of Commons half the day, +and my head's addled with figures. Here comes our supper. Let us drop +the more serious things of life. We'll try and put a little colour into +your cheeks, young lady." + +He served them both and filled their glasses with wine. Then, as he +ate, he leaned back in his chair and watched them. For all her strange +beauty, Julia, too, was one of the suffering children of the world. The +lines of her figure, which should have been so subtle and fascinating, +were sharpened by an unnatural thinness. Aaron's cheeks were almost +like a consumptive's, his physique was puny. There was something in +their expression common to both. Maraton was conscious of a wave of +pity as he withdrew his eyes. + +"Sometimes," he said, "I feel almost angry with you two. You carry on +your shoulders the burden of other people's sufferings. It is well to +feel and realise them, and the gift of sympathy is a beautiful thing, +but our own individualism is also a sacred gift. It is not for us to +weaken or destroy it by encouraging a superabundant sympathy for others. +We each have our place in the world, whether we owe it to fate or our +own efforts, and it is our duty to make the best of it. Our own +happiness, indeed, is a present charge upon ourselves for the ultimate +benefit of others. A happy person in the world does good always. You +two have a leaning towards morbidness. If I had time, I would undertake +your education. As it is, we will have another bottle of wine, and I +shall take you to a music hall." + +It was an evening that lived in Julia's mind with particular vividness +for years to come, and yet one which she always found it difficult to +piece together in her thoughts. They went to one of the less +fashionable music halls, where the turns were frequent and there was no +ballet. Aaron was very soon able to re-establish his temporarily lost +capacity for enjoyment. Maraton, leaning back in his place with a cigar +in his mouth, appreciated everything and applauded constantly. It was +Julia who found the new atmosphere most difficult. She laughed often, +it is true, but she had always a semi-subjective feeling, as though it +were some other person who was really there, and she the instrument +chosen to give physical indication of that other person's presence. +Only once life seemed suddenly to thrill and burn in her veins, to shoot +through her body with startling significance, and in that brief space of +time, life itself was transformed for her. Maraton by chance found her +hand, as they sat side by side, and held it for a moment in his. There +was nothing secret about his action. The firm pressure of his fingers, +even, seemed as though they might have been the kindly, encouraging +touch of a sympathetic friend. But upon Julia his touch was magical. +The rest of the evening faded into insignificance. She understood +feelings which had come to her that afternoon in the park with absolute +completeness for the first time. From that moment she took her place +definitely amongst the women who walk through life but whose feet seldom +touch the earth. + +When the performance was over, Maraton called a taxicab. + +"Aaron," he directed, "you must take your sister back to her lodgings. +No, I insist," he added, as she protested. "No 'buses to-night. Go +home and sleep well and think about yourself." + +She shook her head. + +"I will go home in a taxi," she agreed, "if you will do one thing for +me. It won't take long. It has been in my mind ever since you said +what you did about charity. I want us all to go down to the Embankment. +It isn't late enough really, but I want you to come." + +He sighed. + +"You are incorrigible," he declared. "Never mind, we will go. How good +the air is! We'll walk." + +They turned along the Strand and descended the narrow street which led +to the Embankment. Then they walked slowly as far as Blackfriars +Bridge. They neither of them spoke a word. From time to time they +glanced at the silent and motionless figures on the seats. For the most +part, the loiterers there were either asleep or sitting with closed +eyes. Here and there they caught a glance from some spectral face, a +glance cold and listless. The fires of life were dead amongst these +people. The animal desires alone remained; their faces were dumb. + +They stood together at the corner of Blackfriars Bridge. + +"Well," Maraton said, "I have done your bidding. I have been here +before many times, and I have been here in the winter." + +"Tell me," she asked, "there is a girl there on that third seat, crying. +Am I doing wrong if I go to her and give her money for a night's +lodging?" + +"Without a doubt," he answered. "And yet, I expect you'll do it. +Principles are splendid--in the abnegation. If we are to be illogical, +let me be the breaker of my own laws." + +He thrust some money into her hand and Julia disappeared. For some time +she remained talking with the figure upon the seat. Aaron and Maraton +leaned over the corner of the bridge and looked down the curving arc of +lights towards the Houses of Parliament. + +"I shall end there, you know, Aaron," Maraton sighed. "I am not looking +forward to it. It's a queer sort of a hothouse for a man." + +"I wonder," Aaron murmured thoughtfully. "I used to think of you +travelling from one to the other of the great cities, and I used to +think that when you had spoken to them, the people would see the truth +and rise and take their own. I used to be very fond of the Old +Testament once," he went on, his voice sinking a little lower. "Life +was so simple in those days, and the words of a prophet seemed greater +than any laws." + +"And nowadays," Maraton continued, "life has become like a huge and +complex piece of machinery. Humanity has given way to mechanics. +Aaron, I don't believe I can help this people by any other way save by +laws." + +They both turned quickly around. Julia was standing by their side, and +with her the girl. + +"I told her," Julia explained, "that it was not my money I was offering, +but the money of a gentleman who was the greatest friend the poor people +of the world have ever known. She wanted to speak to you." + +The girl drew her shawl a little closer around her shoulders. Her face +bore upon it the terrible stamp of suffering, without its redeeming +purification. Save for her abundant hair, her very sex would have been +unrecognisable. She looked steadily at Maraton. + +"You sent me money," she said. + +"I did," he admitted. + +"Are you one of those soft-hearted fools who go about doing this sort of +thing?" she demanded. + +"I am not," he replied. "I object to giving money away. I am sorry to +see people suffering, but as a rule I think that it is their own fault +if they come to the straits that you are in. I sent the money to please +this young lady." + +"Their own fault, eh?" she muttered. + +"I qualify that," he added quickly. "Their own fault because they +submit to a heritage of unjust laws. It is your own fault because you +don't join together and smash the laws. You would fill the jails, +perhaps, but you'd make it easier for those who came after." + +She stood quite silent for a moment. When she spoke, the truculent note +had departed from her tone. + +"I came here," she said, "meaning to chuck this money in your face. I +thought you were one of these canting hypocrites who salve their +consciences by giving away what they don't want. My baby died this +morning in the hospital, and they turned me out. If I keep your money, +do you know what I shall do with it? Get drunk." + +He nodded. + +"Why not?" + +She looked at him stolidly. + +"When I've spent it, I shall go into the river. I'm not fit for +anything else. I'm too weak to work, and for the rest, look at me. I'm +as ugly as sin itself--just a few bones held together." + +"Take the money and get drunk," Maraton advised. "You're quite right. +There's no help for you. You've no spirit to help yourself. If you +hang on to the crust of the world through charity, you only do the world +harm. You're better out of it." + +She gathered up the money and shivered a little. + +"I'll drink yer health," she muttered, as she turned away. + +Julia half started to follow her, but Maraton held her arm. + +"Useless," he whispered. "She's one of the broken creatures of the +world. Whilst you keep her alive, you spread corruption. She'll +probably hang on to life until it gives her up." + +He called a taxi. + +"Now I am going to have my own way," he announced. "Aaron is going to +take you home. I came here because you wished it, but it's very +amateurish, you know, this sort of thing. It's on a par with district +visiting and slumming, and all the rest of it. A disease in the body +sometimes brings out scars. A doctor doesn't stare at the scars. He +treats the body for the disease. Get these places out of your mind, +Julia. They are only useful inasmuch as they remind us of the black +truth." + +He took her hands. + +"Remember," he added, "that you've finished with the tailoring for a +time. Aaron will want you to-morrow, or as soon as you can come. We've +piles of work to do." + +Her eyes shone at him. + +"Work," she murmured, "but think of the difference! If it wasn't for +what you've just said about individualism, I think that I should be +feeling cruelly selfish." + +"Rubbish!" he exclaimed. "You're secretary of the Women's Guild, aren't +you? You can keep that up. I'll come and talk to your girls some day. +Your work has been too narrow down there. There are some other women's +industries I want you to enquire into. Till to-morrow!" + +He strode vigorously away. The taxicab turned eastward over Blackfriars +Bridge. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +On the following morning, Maraton saw Elisabeth for the first time since +his return from Manchester. As he rang the bell of Mr. Foley's +residence in Downing Street, at a few minutes before the hour at which +he had been bidden to luncheon, he found himself wondering with a leaven +of resentment in his feelings why he had so persistently avoided the +house during the last three weeks. All his consultations with Mr. +Foley, and they had been many, had taken place at the House of Commons. +He had refused endless invitations of a social character, and even when +Mr. Foley had told him in plain words that his niece was anxious to see +him, Maraton had postponed his call. This luncheon party, however, was +inevitable. He was to meet a great lawyer who had a place in the +Government, and two other Cabinet Ministers. No excuse would have +served his purpose. + +The man who took his hat and coat had evidently received special +instructions. + +"Mr. Foley is engaged with his secretary, sir," he said. "A messenger +has just arrived from abroad. Will you come this way?" + +He was taken to Elisabeth's little room. She was there waiting for him. +Directly she rose, he knew why he had kept away. + +"Are you not a little ashamed of yourself, Mr. Maraton?" she asked, as +the door was closed behind the departing servant. + +"On the contrary," he replied, "I am proud." + +She laughed at him, naturally at first, but with a note of +self-consciousness following swiftly, as she realised the significance +of his words. + +"How foolish! Really, I know it is only a subterfuge to avoid being +scolded. Sit down, won't you? You will have to wait at least ten +minutes for luncheon." + +They looked at one another. He took up a volume of poems from the small +table by his side and put it down again. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"You have conquered," he declared. "You see, I came down to earth." + +"It isn't possible for me," she said simply, "to tell you how glad I am. +Don't you yourself feel that you have done the right thing?" + +"Since that night at Manchester," he told her, "I have scarcely stopped +to think. Do you know that your strongest allies were Mr. Peter Dale +and his men?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"I disclaim my allies. If we arrived at the same conclusion, we did so +by differing lines of thought. Let me tell you," she went on, "there +were two things for which I have prayed. One was that you might start +your fight exactly as you have done. The other that you might find no +official place amongst the Labour Members. Of course, I can't pretend +to the practical experience of a real politician, but my uncle talks to +me a great deal, and to me the truth seemed so clear. It is the +advanced Unionists who need you. They are really the party from whom +progress must come, because it is the middle class which has to be +attacked, and it is amongst the middle classes that Liberalism has its +stronghold. If you once took your place among the Labour Members, you +would be a Labour Member and nothing else. People wouldn't take what +you said seriously." + +"I am coming into the House, if at all, as an Independent Member," he +announced. + +She nodded. + +"Mr. Foley is quite satisfied with that--in fact he thinks it's best. +Do you know, he seems to have gained a new lease of life during the last +few weeks. What do you think of his commission on your Manchester +strike?" + +"He kept his word," Maraton admitted. "I expected no less." + +"I can tell you this," she went on, "because I know that he will tell +you himself after luncheon. The masters met here this morning. They +are simply furious with my uncle, but they have had to give in. The +bill you drafted would have been rushed through Parliament without a +moment's delay, if they had not. Mr. Foley showed them your draft. +They have given in on every point." + +"I am afraid I'm going to keep your uncle rather busy," Maraton +remarked. "Very soon after this is settled, I have promised to speak at +Sheffield." + +"In a way it is terrible," she said, with a sigh, "and yet it is so much +better than the things we feared. Tell me about yourself a little, +won't you? How have you been spending your time? You have a large, +gloomy house here, they tell me, shrouded with mystery. Have you any +amusements or have you been working all the time?" + +"Half my days have been spent with your uncle," he reminded her. "The +other half at home, working. So many of my facts were rusty. As to my +house, is it really mysterious, I wonder? It is large and gloomy, at +the extreme corner of an unfashionable square. It suits me because I +love space and quietness, and yet I like to be near the heart of +things." + +"But do you do nothing but work?" she asked. "Have you no hobbies?" + +He shook his head. + +"I seem to have had no time for games. I like walking, walking in the +country or even walking in the cities and watching the people. Only the +London streets are so sad. Then I am fond of reading. I'm afraid I +should be rather a strange figure if I were to be suddenly projected +into your world, Lady Elisabeth." + +"But I like to feel that you are in my world," she said gently. +"Believe me, it isn't altogether made up of people who play games." + +"I read the daily papers," he remarked. "Didn't I see something +yesterday about Lady Elisabeth Landon having won the scratch prize at +Ranelagh at a ladies' golf meeting?" + +She laughed pleasantly. + +"Oh! well," she protested, "you must make allowance for my bringing up. +We begin to play games in this country as soon as we can crawl about the +nursery. It all depends upon the value you set upon these things." + +A servant knocked at the door and announced the service of luncheon. +Elisabeth rose reluctantly to her feet. + +"Now, I suppose, I must hand you over to the serious business of life," +she sighed. "If you do have a minute to spare when you have finished +with my uncle," she added in a lower tone, as they passed down the wide +staircase side by side, "come up and see me before you go. I shall be +in till four o'clock." + +The familiarity of her words, half whispered in his ear, the delightful +suggestion of some confidential understanding between them, were alike +fascinating to him. In her plain white serge coat and skirt, and smart +hat--she had just come in from walking in the park--she seemed to him to +represent so perfectly the very best and most delightful type of +womanhood. Her complexion was perfect, her skin fresh as a child's. +She carried herself with the spring and grace of one who walks through +life self-confidently, fortified always with the knowledge that she was +a favourite with women as well as with men. He sat by her side at +luncheon and he could not help admiring the delicate tact with which she +prevented the conversation from ever remaining more than a few seconds +in channels which might have made him feel something of an alien. There +was another nephew of Mr. Foley's there, a famous polo player and +sportsman; Lord Carton, whose eyes seldom left Elisabeth's face; Sir +William Blend, the great lawyer; Mr. Horrill and Lord Armley. These, +with Elisabeth's mother and herself, made up the party. + +"I think I am going to bar politics," Lady Grenside said, as she took +her place. + +"Impossible!" Mr. Foley retorted, in high good humour. "This is a +political luncheon. We have great and weighty matters to discuss. You +women are permitted to be present, but we allot to you the hardest task +of all--silence." + +"A sheer impossibility, so far as mother is concerned," Elisabeth +observed. "As for me, I call myself a practical politician. I intend +to take part in the discussion." + +Mr. Foley looked across the round table with twinkling eyes. + +"We are going to talk about Universal Manhood Suffrage," he announced. + +"Scandalous," Elisabeth declared, "before we have our votes!" + +"Perhaps," Maraton suggested, "it was Universal Suffrage that Mr. Foley +meant." + +"Including children and aliens," Lady Grenside remarked. "I am sure the +children at the school I went over yesterday could have ruled the nation +admirably. They seemed to know positively everything." + +"Mother, you are too frivolous," Elisabeth insisted. "If this tone of +levity is not dropped, I shall start another subject of conversation. +Mr. Maraton, you, of course, are in favour of Universal Manhood +Suffrage?" + +"I am not at all sure about it," he replied. "It gives the vote to a +lot of people I'd sooner see deported." + +"But you--you to talk like that!" she exclaimed. + +He smiled. + +"Votes should belong to those who have a stake in the country, not to +the flotsam and jetsam," he continued solemnly. + +"But you're a Tory!" she cried. + +"Not a bit," he answered. "If I had my way, you would very soon see +that one man wouldn't have so much more stake in the country than +another. Then Universal Suffrage follows automatically--in fact that's +the way I'd arrive at it." + +"Don't ever let Mr. Maraton be Prime Minister!" Elisabeth begged. +"He's too iconoclastic." + +"And just now I was a Tory," Maraton protested. + +"It isn't my fault that you are a study in contraries," she laughed. +"But then politicians are rather like that, aren't they? I think really +that they should be like surgeons, specialise all the time." + +"Come down to Ranelagh and play golf after luncheon," Lord Carton +suggested abruptly from across the table. "I've got my little racing +car outside and I'll take you down there like a rocket." + +"Thanks," she answered, "I want particularly to stay in till four +o'clock this afternoon. Besides, you can't play golf, you know." + +"I don't think Elisabeth has improved," he remarked to her mother, +turning deliberately away. + +"And I am sure Jack's left his heart in Central America," Elisabeth +declared. "He was always fond of dark-complexioned ladies. Mr. +Maraton, have you been a great traveller?" + +He shook his head. + +"I have been in South America," he replied, "and I know most of the +country between San Francisco and New York pretty well." + +"And Europe?" she asked. + +"I walked from Vienna to Paris when I was a boy," he told her. "It's +years, though, since I was on the Continent." + +Her cousin began to talk of his hunting experiences, and every one +listened. As soon as the service of luncheon was concluded, Lady +Grenside rose. + +"I dare say we shall all meet again before you go," she said. "Coffee +is being served to you in the library, Stephen. We won't say good-bye +to anybody. Jack, don't forget that you are dining here to-night. You +shall take in the blackest young lady I can pick out for you." + +Elisabeth followed her mother. At the last moment, Maraton caught a +little whisper which only just floated from her lips. + +"Till four o'clock!" + +The two younger men took their departure almost immediately. The others +moved into the library. Mr. Foley plunged at once into the subject +which was uppermost in their minds. + +"Mr. Maraton," he began, "we want to talk about these strikes. Horrill +here, and Blend, have an idea that you are working towards some definite +result--that you have more in your mind than I have told them. It is +only this morning," he went on in a lower tone, and glancing towards the +closed door, "that I explained to them your Manchester speech. They +know now that England has you to thank for the fact that we are not at +this moment preparing for war." + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Between three and four o'clock, half a dozen people, on different +devices, tried to draw Elisabeth from her retirement. Her particular +friend called to suggest a round of the picture galleries, tea at the +club, and a motor ride to Ranelagh. Lord Carton repeated his invitation +to a game of golf. Two people invited her out into the country on +various pretexts. Her dressmaker rang up and begged for her presence +without delay. To all of these importunities Elisabeth remained deaf. +She sat in her room in an easy-chair drawn up to the open window, with a +book in her hand at which she scarcely glanced. Her thoughts were with +the five men downstairs. Every now and then she glanced at the clock. +She heard the conference break up. She sat quite still, listening. +Presently there was the sound of a firm tread upon the stairs. She +closed her book and breathed a little sigh. A servant ushered in +Maraton. + +"You have not forgotten, then," she said softly. "Come and sit in my +favourite chair and rest for a few moments. I am sure that you must be +tired." + +He sank down with an air of content. She sat upon the end of the sofa, +close to him, her head resting upon her hands. + +"Well," she asked, "have you converted Sir William?" + +"Up to a certain extent, I believe," he answered, after a momentary +hesitation. "I don't think that he trusts me. Lawyers have a habit of +not trusting people, you know. On the other hand, I don't think he +means to give any trouble. Of course, they don't like what they have to +face. No one does. It isn't every one who has the sagacity of your +uncle." + +"I am glad," she said, "that you appreciate him. Tell me now what is +going to happen?" + +"Mr. Foley will have his own way," Maraton declared. "The Manchester +strike will be over in a few days. The Sheffield strike will be dealt +with in the same manner. People will talk about the great loss of +trade, the shocking depreciation of profits, the lowered incomes of the +people, and all that sort of thing. What will really happen will be +that the investor and the manufacturer are going to pay, and Labour is +going to get just about a tithe of its own in these two cases. The +country will be none the poorer. The money will be still there, only +its distribution will be saner." + +"And the end of it?" she murmured. "What will the end of it be?" + +"We can none of us tell that;" he answered gravely. "There are some, +like Sir William, who insist that when Labour has once started, as it +will have started after Sheffield, there will be no holding it. I can +not answer for it. I only say that the course Mr. Foley has adopted is +distinctly the best for the country. If an obstinate man had been in +his place to-day, nothing could have saved you from civil war first and +possibly from foreign conquest later." + +"A month ago," she observed, "you seemed fully prepared for these +things." + +"I was," he admitted. + +"But you are an Englishman, are you not?" + +"I am English. I daresay that under other considerations I might even +have called myself a patriotic Englishman. As it is, I have very little +feeling of that sort. There has been too much self-glorification, and +it's the wrong class of people who've revelled in it and enjoyed it. +It's a fine thing to die for one's country. It's a shameful thing that +that country should grind the life and brains and blood out of a hundred +of her children, day by day." + +A servant brought in tea, delightfully served. There were small yellow +china cups, pale tea with a faint, aromatic odour, thick cream, +strawberries and cakes. + +"If only you would appreciate it," she declared, "you are really rather +a privileged person. No one has tea with me here." + +"I do appreciate it," he assured her, "perhaps more than you think." + +There was a moment's silence. As he was taking his cup from her +fingers, their eyes met, and she looked away again almost immediately. + +"I wish," she said, "that you would tell me more about yourself--what +you did in America, what your life has been? You are rather a +mysterious person, aren't you?" + +"In a sense, perhaps, I must seem so," he admitted. "You see, I was an +orphan very early. There wasn't any one who cared how I grew up, and I +wandered a good deal. The earlier part of my life I was over here--I +was at Heidelberg University, bye the bye--and in Paris for two years +studying art, of all things! Then something--I don't know what it +was--called me to America, and I found it hard to come back. It's a big +country, you know, Lady Elisabeth. It gets hold of you. If it hadn't +driven me out, I doubt whether I should ever have left it." + +"But what was it first inspired you with this--well, wouldn't you call +it a passion--for championing the cause of the people?" + +He shook his head. + +"Born in me, I suppose. I have watched them, lived with them, and then +I have been through the whole gamut of Socialistic literature. It is +not worth reading, most of it. The essential facts are there to look +at, half-a-dozen phrases, a single field of view. It's all very +simple." + +"Now I am going to ask you something else," she went on. "That first +night when we talked together, you seemed so full of hope, so dauntless. +Since then, is it my fancy--since you came back from Manchester--are you +a little disappointed 'with life? Don't you know in your heart that +you've done what's best?" + +"I wish I did," he answered simply. "My common sense tells me that I +have chosen well, and then sometimes, in the nights, or when I am alone, +other thoughts come to me, and I feel almost as though I had been +faithless, as though I had simply chosen the easier way. Look how +pleasant it is all being made for me! I am no longer an outcast; I bask +in the sun of your uncle's patronage; people ask me to dinner, seek my +friendship, people whom I feel ought to hate me. I am not sure about it +all." + +"Listen," she said, "if you had indeed pulled down those pillars, don't +you think that day by day and night by night you would have been haunted +by the faces of those whom you had destroyed? Think of the children who +would have died of starvation, the women who would have been torn from +their husbands, the ruined homes, the sorrow and the misery all through +the land. Yours would have been the hand which had dealt this blow. +You would not have lived to have seen into the future. Would it have +been enough for you to have believed that you had done it for the +best--that that unborn generation of which you spoke would have +unfitted? Oh, I do not think so! I believe that when you realise it, +you must be glad." + +"It is at any rate consoling to hear you say so," he remarked. "Yet, +when you have made up your mind to play the martyr, it is a little +hard," he added, helping himself to strawberries, "to be treated like a +pampered being." + +"In other words," she laughed, "you are discontented because you have +been successful?" + +"I suppose human nature never meant to let us rest satisfied." + +"Don't you ever think of yourself," she asked, "what your own life is +going to be? You've settled down now. You will be a Member of +Parliament in a few weeks, a Cabinet Minister before long. I know what +my uncle thinks of you. He believes in you. To tell you the truth, so +do I." + +"I am glad." + +"I believe," she went on, "that you will do the work that you came here +to do. There is no reason why you should not do it from the Cabinet. +But there is the rest--your own life. Are you never going to amuse +yourself, to take holiday, to draw some of the outside things into your +scheme of being?" + +He sat quite silent for a little time. He was inclined to struggle +against the charm of her soft voice, the easy intimacy with which she +treated him. In a sense he felt as though he were losing control of +himself. + +"I don't know," he said. "I think one ought to find one's work +sufficient for a time. It is engrossing, isn't it? And that reminds +me--I must go." + +He rose almost abruptly to his feet. She was quick to appreciate his +slight confusion of thought, his nervous self-impatience, and she smiled +quietly. She was content to let him escape. She held out her hand, +though, and his fingers seemed conscious of the firm, delicate warmth of +her clasp. + +"Come and talk to me again soon," she begged. "Come either as a +politician or a friend, or however you like. It gives me so much +pleasure to talk with you. Uncle will tell you that every one spoils +me. Even Sir William comes and tells me about his troubles with the +Irish Members. Will you come?" + +He made a half promise. His departure was a little hasty--almost +abrupt; he was conscious of a distinct turmoil of feeling. He hurried +away, as though anxious to rid himself of the influence of the place. +At the corner of the street he was about to hail a taxicab when a man +gripped him by the arm. He turned quickly around. The face was somehow +familiar to him--the grey, untidy beard, long hairy eyebrows, sunken +eyes, the shabby clothes. It was David Ross. + +"Can I speak a word with you, Mr. Maraton?" + +Maraton nodded. + +"Of course. I don't remember your name. You were at Manchester, +weren't you, and at my house with the others?" + +"Ross, my name is," the man answered. "I'd no call to be at Manchester, +for I'm not one of the delegates. I'm not an M.P. but I've done a lot +of speaking for them lately, and Peter Dale, he said if I paid my own +expenses I could come along. I borrowed the money. I had to come. I +had to hear you speak. I wanted to know your message." + +"Were you satisfied with it?" Maraton enquired. + +"I don't know," was the doubtful reply. "You ask me a question I can't +answer myself. I thought so at the time, but since then I've spent many +sleepless nights and many tired hours, asking myself that question. Now +I am here to ask you one. Did you speak that night what you had in your +mind when you left America?--what you thought of on the steamer coming +over--what you meant to say when first you set foot in this country?" + +Maraton was interested. He walked slowly along by the side of his +companion. + +"I did not," he admitted. "I came with other views. + +"I knew it!" Ross exclaimed, almost fiercely. "I felt it, man. You +came to preach redemption, even though the means were sharp and short +and sudden, means of blood, means of death. Before you ever came here, +I seemed to hear your voice crying across that great continent, crying +even across the ocean. It was a terrible cry, but it seemed as though +it must reach up into heaven and down into hell, for it was aflame with +truth. It seemed to me that I could see the revolution upon us, the +death that is like sleep, the looking down once more from some +undiscovered place upon the new morning. You never uttered that cry +over here." + +Maraton glanced at his companion curiously. + +"Mine was an immense responsibility," he said. "Granted that I had the +power, do you think that I had the right to stir up a civil war here in +the face of the help I was promised for our people?" + +David Ross sighed. + +"I don't know," he confessed. "I only know that many years ago, Peter +Dale, when he was a young man, spoke as though the word of truth were +burning in his heart. He was for a revolution. He would be content +with nothing less. And Borden was like that, and Graveling, and others +whom you don't know. And then the people gave them their mandate, +knocked a bit of money together, and sent them to Parliament. There, +somehow or other, they seemed to fall into the easier ways. They worked +stolidly and honestly, no doubt, but something had gone, something we've +all missed, something that by this time might have helped. When they +told me--it was Aaron who came and told me--rode his bicycle like a +madman, all the way from Soho. 'Maraton is come!' he shouted. Then it +seemed to me that freedom was here; no more compromises, but battle--the +naked sword, battle with the wrongs of generations to requite. Is the +sword sheathed?" + +Maraton passed his arm through his companion's. + +"It is not sheathed," he declared, "nor while I have life will it be +sheathed. If I have chosen the quieter methods, it is because for the +present I have come to believe that they are the best. Six hundred +thousand people in Lancashire are going to start life next Monday with +an increase of between fifteen and twenty per cent to their weekly wage. +Isn't that something to the good? And then, in a few weeks, every forge +and furnace in Sheffield will be cold until the men's demands are +granted there. And when that is over, we go for every industry, one by +one, throughout the country. Before a year is past, I reckon that many +millions will have passed from the pockets of the middle classes into +the pockets of the labouring man. I am going to set that stream running +faster and faster, and then I am going to begin all over again. With +prosperity, the labouring classes will gain strength. You will have +more time for thought, for education, for self-knowledge. And as they +gain strength, once more we raise our hands. Do they seem slow to you, +our methods, David Ross? Believe me, they did to me. Yet in my heart I +know that I have chosen the right." + +The man drew a little sigh. There may have been disappointment mingled +with it, yet there was a certain amount of relief. + +"I was afraid for you, Maraton," he said. "I thought of those others +when they stumbled upon the easy ways, and I was afraid. With you it +may be different. Hold on your way, then. It is not for me to +criticise. But if you slacken, if your hand droops, then I shall come +again." + +He turned abruptly away and disappeared, walking with quick, shambling +footsteps. Maraton looked after him thoughtfully for several moments, +then he continued on his way homewards. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +The last words had been spoken, the suspense of a few hours was at an +end. Maraton was on his way back to London, a duly accredited Member of +Parliament for the eastern division of Nottingham. From his place in +the railway carriage he fancied that he could hear even now the roar of +voices, feel the thrill of emotion with which he had waited for the +result. An Independent Member, even when backed as Maraton had been +backed, is never in a wholly safe position. On the whole, he had done +well. He had increased the majority of four hundred to a majority of +seven hundred. And this, too, in the face of unexpected difficulties. +At the last minute a surprise had been sprung upon the constituency. A +Labour candidate had entered the field. Maraton's telegram to Peter +Dale had produced no reply. The man, if not officially recognised, was +at least not officially discouraged. His intervention had been useless, +however. Maraton had carried the working men with him. In a sense it +was an election on the strangest issues which had ever been fought. +Many of the most far-seeing journalists of the day predicted in this new +alliance the redistribution of Parties which for some time had been +inevitable. So far as Maraton was concerned, it was, without doubt, an +unexpected phase in his career. He was Maraton, M.P., representative of +a manufacturing town; elected, indeed, as an Independent, but with a +weighty backing of the Unionist Party behind him. The next time he +spoke, probably, if he did speak before his journey to Sheffield, would +be in the House of Commons. Would he, like those others, feel the +inertia of it, the slow decay of his ambitions, the fatal tendency +towards compromise? + +Arrived at St. Pancras, Maraton drove straight to his house in Russell +Square and, letting himself in with his latch-key, made his way to the +study. The lights were still burning there. Julia and Aaron were +sitting opposite to one another at the end of the long table, a +typewriter between them and a pile of papers by Aaron's side. Julia +rose at once to her feet. + +"You are in!" she cried. "We have been telephoning all the evening. We +heard half an hour ago." + +Maraton nodded. + +"In by seven hundred. Not bad, I suppose, considering that I must have +been rather a hard nut to crack. Has Peter Dale been here?" + +Aaron shook his head. + +"He hasn't been near the place." + +Maraton's face hardened. + +"You know that they sprang a Labour candidate upon me at the last +moment? He did me no particular harm, but it was an infamous trick. I +wired to Dale yesterday and had no reply." + +"David Ross has been here," Aaron said. "We heard all about it from +him. There is dissension in the camp. Dale was in favour of +withdrawing their candidate, but Graveling wouldn't have it." + +"He did me no harm, anyway," Maraton remarked. "The Labour vote was +mine from the start." + +"So it ought to have been," Aaron declared vigorously. "What could they +do but vote for you, with Manchester staring them in the face?" + +Maraton's expression lightened, a gleam of humour twinkled in his eyes. + +"After all," he murmured, "it would have been almost Gilbertian if I had +been returned to Parliament with the Labour vote against me! . . . +Aaron, go and ring up Peter Dale. I want this matter cleared up. Ask +him when we can meet." + +Aaron left the room upon his errand. Maraton moved restlessly about the +room for a moment or two. He mixed himself a drink at the sideboard, +and lit a cigarette. Julia's eyes followed him all the time. + +"So you are a Member of Parliament," she said at last. + +"I hope you approve?" he queried. + +Julia did not answer him at once. He looked across at her from the +depth of the easy chair into which he had thrown himself. She was +wearing a plain black dress, buttoned to her throat and unrelieved even +by a linen collar or any touch of white. She was pale, and her eyes +seemed all the more beautiful for the faint violet lines beneath them. + +"Parliament has been the grave of so many men's careers," Maraton +continued. "I am fully warned. Nothing of the sort is going to happen +to me. I wouldn't have gone in now but for Foley. It's only fair. It +helps him, and he's sticking to his pledges like a man." + +"When do you go to Sheffield?" she asked. + +"Next Wednesday. No postponements." + +Julia nodded. + +"Mr. Elgood has been here this afternoon," she said, "from Sheffield. +He is the secretary of the Union, you know. He is coming again +to-morrow morning. He wants to talk to you about the boys' age limit." + +"Any letters of consequence?" + +Julia pointed a little disdainfully to a pile upon the table. + +"All invitations," she observed coldly. "Perhaps you had better look +them through." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"They are no use to me," he declared, "unless they're political?" + +He rose and stood by Julia's side, glancing idly through the heap of +papers by the side of her machine. + +"You seem to have found plenty to do, anyway," he remarked. + +"There was a great deal," she assured him. "I think I have collected +all the possible information you can need on the steel works of +Sheffield." + +"Haven't been overworking, I hope?" + +She laughed at him softly. Her parted lips seemed somehow to lighten +her face. + +"This doesn't quite compare with nine hours a day over a sewing machine, +with a hundred other girls packed into a small room," she reminded him. +"No, I haven't been overworking. I almost wished, an hour ago, that I +could find something more to do." + +"Why didn't you go out?" + +"To-morrow night is Guild night," she said. "I go out then to talk to +my girls. Miss Stevens is coming from the Lyceum Club to lecture to us +on Woman's Suffrage." + +"Do you want a vote?" he asked. + +"If it comes,"' she replied. "It isn't worth worrying about. I like my +girls, though, to be taught to think." + +There was a brief silence. Maraton was still examining the letters laid +out for his inspection. Julia was standing by his side. As the last +one slipped through his fingers, he turned quickly towards her, +oppressed by some mysterious significance in her silence. Her eyes were +luminous. She seemed to be trembling. She avoided his enquiring +glance. + +"Julia!" he exclaimed. + +She lifted her head slowly, almost unwillingly. Though her lips were +parted, she made no attempt at speech. Then the door was suddenly +opened. Aaron entered in some excitement. + +"Mr. Dale and some of the others are here now, sir," he announced. "I +heard they were on their way when I telephoned. They would like to see +you at once." + +Maraton stood for a moment quite still, without replying. Aaron gazed +across the table in some surprise. + +"What shall I say to them?" he asked. "They are here now." + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Let them come in," he directed. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The three men--Peter Dale, Abraham Weavel and Graveling filed into the +room a little solemnly. Maraton shook hands with the two former, but +Graveling, who kept his head turned away from Julia, affected not to +notice Maraton's friendly overtures. + +"So you managed it all right," Peter Dale remarked. "Pretty close fit, +wasn't it?" + +"Seven hundred," Maraton replied. "Not so bad, considering. You see, I +was a complete stranger and I am not sure that I have learnt the knack +yet of that sort of platform speaking." + +"However that may be," Abraham Weavel declared, accepting a cigar from +the box which Maraton had ordered, and standing with his hands +underneath his coat-tails upon the hearthrug, "you've done the trick. +You're an M.P., same as we are." + +"You've no objection, I hope?" Maraton remarked lightly. + +"That's as may be," Mr. Weavel observed sententiously. "We don't, so +to speak, know exactly where we are just at this moment. There's all +sorts of rumours going about, and we want them cleared up. Go on, Dale, +ask him the first question. You're spokesman, you know." + +Mr. Peter Dale threw away the match with which he had just lit his +pipe, sampled the whiskey and water to which he had helped himself with +a most liberal hand, and deliberately selected the most comfortable +chair within reach. With his hands in his trousers pockets, the thumbs +protruding, his pipe in the left-hand corner of his mouth, his eyebrows +drawn close together, he looked steadfastly towards Maraton. + +"The first question," he began stolidly, "is this. You owe your seat in +Parliament to the Unionists. What have you promised them in return? +You haven't attempted to commit us to anything, I hope?" + +"Certainly not," Maraton replied. "Such an idea never occurred to me. +So far as I know," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "Mr. Foley +is not, at the moment, in need of your support. His majority is +sufficient." + +Peter Dale frowned ominously. + +"That may or may not be," he remarked gruffly. "So long as you haven't +taken it upon yourself to pledge us to anything, well, that disposes of +question number one. The next is, where are you going to sit in the +House?" + +Maraton's eyebrows were slightly raised. + +"Where am I going to sit?" he repeated. "Remember, if you please, that +as a member I have never been inside your House of Commons. I am not +acquainted with its procedure. Where, in your opinion, ought I to sit?" + +"Your place is with us," Peter Dale declared. "I can't see that there's +any doubt about that." + +"And why?" + +"You're a Labour man, aren't you?" Peter Dale asked. "You call yourself +one, anyway. + +"If I am a Labour man," Maraton said, "why did you put up a candidate to +oppose me at Nottingham?" + +Peter Dale smoked steadily for several moments. + +"It was nowt to do with me," he announced. "The fellow sprung up all on +his own, as it were. Graveling here may have known something of it, but +so far as we are concerned he was not an authorised candidate." + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"There was nothing," he objected, "to convey that idea to the electors. +He made use of the Labour agent and the Labour committee rooms. My +telegram to you remained unanswered. Under those circumstances, I +really can scarcely see how you find it possible to disown him." + +"In any case," Abraham Weavel intervened, with conciliation in his tone, +"he didn't do himself a bit a' good nor you a bit of harm. Four hundred +and thirty votes he polled out of eight thousand, and those were votes +which otherwise would have gone to the Liberal. I should say myself +that it did you good, if anything." + +"You may be right," Maraton admitted. "At the same time, one thing is +very clear. You did not offer me the slightest official support. It is +true that I did not ask for it. I prefer, as I have told you all along, +my independence. It will be my object to continue without direct +association with any party. If I can find a place in the house allotted +to Independent Members, I shall sit there. If not, I shall sit with the +Unionists." + +Peter Dale's face darkened. This was what they had feared. + +"You mean that you're breaking away from us?" he exclaimed angrily. +"There's no room in our little party for Independent Members, no sort of +sense in a mere handful of us all pulling different ways." + +"I never joined your party, Mr. Dale," Maraton reminded him. "I have +never joined any man's party. I am for the people." + +"And what about us?" Graveling demanded. "Aren't we for the people? +Isn't that what we're in Parliament for? Isn't that why we are called +Labour Members?" + +Maraton regarded the last speaker steadily. + +"Mr. Graveling," he said, "since you have mooted the question, I will +admit that I do not consider you, as a body of men, entirely devoted to +the cause of the people. You are each devoted to your own constituency. +It is your business to look after the few thousand voters who sent you +into Parliament, and in your eagerness to serve and please them, I think +that you sometimes forget the greater, the more universal truths. I may +be wrong. That is how the matter seems to me." + +"Then since you're so frank," Peter Dale declared, with undiminished +wrath, "I'll just imitate your candour! I'll tell you how you seem to +us. You seem like a man with a gift, whose head has been turned by Mr. +Foley and his fine friends. You're full of great phrases, but there's +nothing practical about them or you. You're on your way to an easy +place for yourself in the world, and a seat in Foley's Cabinet." + +"Have you any objection," Maraton asked, "to the people's cause being +represented in the Cabinet?" + +It was the last straw, this! Peter Dale's voice shook with passion. + +"It's been a promise," he shouted, "for this many a year! A sop to the +people it was, at the last election. There's one of us ought to be in +the Cabinet--one of us, I say, not a carpetbagger!" + +"We're the wrong type of man," Graveling broke in sarcastically. +"That's what he said. He was heard to say it to the Home Secretary. +The wrong type of man he called us." + +Maraton suddenly changed his attitude. He was momentarily conscious of +Julia listening, from her place in the background, to every word with +strained attention. After all, these men had doubtless done good work +according to their capacity. + +"My friends," he protested, "why do we bandy words like this? Perhaps +it is my fault. I have had a long and tiring day, and I must confess +that I to some extent resented a Labour man being set up against me, +without a word of explanation. You mean well, all of you, I am sure, +even if we can't quite see the same way. Don't let's quarrel. I am not +used to Parties. I can't serve under any one. My vote's my own, and I +don't like the political juggery of selling it here and there for a quid +pro quo. We may sit on opposite benches, but I give you my word that +there isn't anything in the world which brings me into political life or +will keep me there, save the welfare of the people. Now shake hands, +all of you. Let us have a drink together and part friends." + +Peter Dale shook his head doggedly. He had risen to his feet--a man +filled with slow burning but bitter anger. + +"No, sir!" he declared. "Me and my mates have stood for the people for +this many a year, and we've no fancy for a fine gentleman springing up +like a Jack-in-the-box from somewhere else in the House, without any +reference to us, and yet calling himself and advertising himself as the +champion of our cause. Outside Parliament we can't stop you. The +Trades' Union men think more of you, maybe, than they do of us. But +inside you can plough your own furrow, and for my part, when you're on +your legs, the smoking-room will be plenty good enough for me!" + +"And for the rest of us!" Graveling agreed fiercely. "If you're so keen +on being independent, you shall see what you can do on your own." + +Dale was already on his way to the door, but Maraton checked him. + +"Mr. Dale," he said, "you are an older man than I am, a man of much +experience. I beg you to reflect. The feelings which prompt you +towards this action are unworthy. If you attempt to send me to +Coventry, you will simply bring ridicule upon a Party which should be +the broadest-minded in the House." + +Mr. Dale turned around. He had already crammed his black, wide-awake +hat on to his head. Like all men whose outlook upon life is limited, +the idea of ridicule was hateful to him. + +"You mark my words, young man," he growled. "The one that makes a fool +of himself is the one that's going to play the toady to a master who +will send him to heel with a kick, every time he opens his mouth to +bark! Go your own way. I'm only sorry you ever set foot in this +country." + +He passed out, followed by Weavel. Graveling only lingered upon the +threshold. He was looking towards Julia. + +"Miss Thurnbrein," he said, "can I have a word with you?" + +"You cannot," she replied steadily. + +He remained there, dogged, full of suppressed wrath. The sight of her +taking her place before the typewriter seemed to madden him. Already +she was the better for the change of work and surroundings, for the +improved conditions of her daily life. There was the promise of colour +in her cheeks. Her plain black gown was as simple as ever, but her hair +was arranged with care, and she carried herself with a new distinction, +born of her immense contentment. Her supercilious attitude attracted +while it infuriated him. + +"It's only a word I want," he persisted. "I have a right to some sort +of civility, at any rate." + +"You have no rights at all," she retorted. "I thought that we had +finished with that the last time we spoke together." + +"I want to know," he went on obstinately, "why you haven't been to work +lately?" + +"Because I have left Weinberg's," she told him curtly. "It is no +business of yours, but if it will help to get rid of you--" + +"Left Weinberg's," he repeated. "Got another job, eh?" + +"I am Mr. Maraton's assistant secretary," she announced. + +His face for a moment was almost distorted with anger. + +"You're living here--under this roof?" he demanded. + +"It is no concern of yours where or how I am living," she answered. + +"That's a lie!" Graveling exclaimed furiously. "You're my girl. I've +hung around after you for six years. I've known you since you were a +child. I'll be d--d if I'll be thrown on one side now and see you +become another man's mistress--especially his!" + +He came a step further into the room. Maraton, who had been standing +with his back to them, arranging some papers on his desk, turned slowly +around. Graveling was advancing towards him with the air of a bully. + +"Do you hear--you--Maraton?" he cried. "I've had enough of you! You +can flout us all at our work, if you like, but you go a bit too far when +you think to make a plaything of my girl. Do you hear that?" + +"Perfectly," Maraton replied. + +"And what have you got to say about it?" + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"I don't know that I have anything particular to say about it. If it +interests you to be told my opinion of you, you are welcome to hear it." + +Graveling advanced a step nearer still. His fists were clenched, an +ugly scowl had parted his lips. Julia came swiftly from her seat. Her +eyes were filled with fury. She faced Graveling. + +"Richard Graveling," she exclaimed, "I am ashamed to think that I ever +let you call yourself my friend! If you do not leave the room and the +house at once, I swear that I will never speak to you again as long as I +live!" + +He pushed her aside roughly. + +"I'll talk to you presently," he declared. "It's him that my business +is with now." + +Maraton's eyes flashed a little dangerously. + +"Keep your hands off that young lady," he ordered. + +"You'd like her to protect you, would you?" Graveling taunted. "Listen +here. I'm not the sort of man to have my girl taken away and made +another man's plaything. Is she going to stop here? Answer me +quickly." + +"As long as she chooses," Maraton replied. + +"Then take that!" Graveling shouted. + +Maraton stepped lightly to one side. Graveling was overbalanced by his +fierce blow into the empty air. The next moment he was lying on his +back, and the room seemed to be spinning around him. Maraton was +standing with his finger upon the bell. Julia was by his side, her eyes +blazing. She spoke never a word, but as Graveling struggled back to his +senses he could see the scorn upon her face. + +Aaron and a man servant entered the room simultaneously. Maraton +pointed to the figure upon the floor. + +"Aaron," he said, "your friend Mr. Graveling has met with a slight +accident. You had better take him outside and put him in a taxicab." + +Graveling rose painfully to his feet. He was very pale, and there was +blood upon his cheek. He leaned on Aaron's arm and he looked towards +Maraton and Julia. + +"Better apologise and shake hands," Maraton advised quietly. + +Graveling seemed not to have heard him. He looked towards them both, +and his fingers gripped Aaron's shoulder so that the young man winced +with pain. Then without a single word he turned towards the door. + +"Let him go!" Julia cried fiercely. "I am only thankful that you +punished him. We do not want his apologies. I hope that I may never +see him again!" + +Graveling, who had reached the door, leaning heavily upon Aaron, turned +around. His face, with the streak of blood upon his cheek, was ghastly. +He left the room between Aaron and the servant. They heard his unsteady +footsteps in the hall, a whistle, the departure of the cab. "Aaron has +gone with him," Maraton remarked quietly. "Perhaps it is as well." + +Her face suddenly relaxed and softened. The fury left her eyes; she +sank back into the easy chair. + +"I am ashamed," she moaned. "Oh, I am ashamed!" + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The sound of traffic outside had died away. The silence became almost +unnaturally prolonged. Only the echo of Julia's last words seemed, +somehow or other, to remain, words which inspired Maraton with a curious +and indefinable emotion, a pity which he could not altogether analyse. +Twice he had turned softly as though to leave the room, and twice he had +returned. He stood now upon the hearthrug, looking down at her, +perplexed, himself in some degree agitated. She was not weeping, +although every now and then her bosom rose and fell as though with some +suppressed storm. It was simply a paroxysm of sensitiveness. She was +afraid to look up, afraid to break a silence which to her was full of +consolation. Maraton, a little ashamed of the scene in which he had +been an unwilling participator, bitterly self-accusing, still found his +thoughts diverted from his own humiliation as he watched the girl--a +long, slim figure bent in one strangely graceful curve, her beautiful +hair gleaming in the soft light, her face still half hidden by her +strong, capable fingers--a figure exquisitely symbolic, full of pathos. +Her elbows rested upon her knees; she was crouched a little forward. +"Julia!" he ventured at last. + +She looked up, without undue haste but without hesitation. She had +obviously been waiting for speech from him. He saw then that his +impression had been a true one. There were no traces of tears in her +eyes, which sought his at once--sought his with a look which warned him +suddenly of his danger. Her cheeks were burning; she was still shaking +with some internal passion. + +"After all," he said soothingly, "there are such people in the world. +One can't ignore the fact of their existence. They don't really count." + +Her eyes flashed. + +"It is terrible that they should be allowed to live." + +He smiled at her sympathetically. Speech seemed somehow to lessen the +tension between them. + +"My dear Julia," he declared, "I am suffering just as much as you. I +have the feeling that I have descended to the level of a common brawler. +Yet what was I to do? he needed the lesson very badly indeed." + +"I only hope that it will last him all his life. I only hope that he +will not come near either of us again." + +"Very doubtful whether he will want to, I should think," Maraton +remarked, leaning against the table. "You certainly didn't mince your +words." + +"If I could have thought of harsher ones, I would have used them," she +asserted. + +"What a waste of time it has been this evening!" He sighed, as his +fingers turned over the pile of letters by his side. "What with Mr. +Peter Dale and his little deputation, and this idiotic person Graveling, +I have scarcely done a thing since I got home." + +"There's nothing that you need do until to-morrow," she told him softly. + +There was another brief pause. She was sitting up now--leaning back in +her chair, indeed--trembling no longer, although the colour still flamed +in her cheeks. Her eyes, which seldom left his face, were strangely, +almost liquidly soft. Maraton moved restlessly in his place. Perhaps +he had been unwise not to have stolen out of the room during the first +few moments. Julia, as he very well knew, was no ordinary person, and +he felt a sense of growing uneasiness. The tension of silence became +ominous and he spoke simply to dissipate it. + +"I hope I really didn't hurt the fellow." + +"If you had killed him," she replied, "he deserved it!" + +"He was an insulting beast, of course," Maraton continued. "After all, +though, one mustn't bring oneself down to the level of these creatures. +He saw with his eyes, and what is seen from that point of view isn't of +any account. Perhaps it isn't his fault that he hasn't learnt to govern +himself. If I were you, Julia, I wouldn't bother about it any more, +really." + +"It wasn't altogether what he said," she whispered. "It wasn't +altogether that." + +He looked at her enquiringly. + +"You mean?" + +She shook her head. + +"Tell me?" he begged. + +Once more he saw that little quiver pass through her frame. Her lips +were parted and closed again. Maraton was puzzled, but did his best to +follow her line of thought. + +"The only way to treat such a person," he continued, "is to treat him as +a lunatic. That is what he really is. I scarcely heard what he said; +already I have forgotten every word." + +"But I can't! I never can!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"My dear Julia," he protested, "I appeal to your common sense!" + +She looked at him almost angrily. Her foot beat upon the floor. + +"What has common sense to do with it!" she exclaimed. "Of course, it +was a foolish thing to say. He didn't even believe it--I am sure of +that. It was simply mad, insensate jealousy; a vicious attempt to make +me suffer. That isn't where he hurt. It was because--shall I tell +you?" + +A sudden instinct warned him. He held out his hand. + +"It will only distress you. No, I don't want to hear." + +The momentary silence seemed endowed with peculiar qualities. They +heard the little clock ticking upon the mantelpiece, the tinkle of a +hansom bell outside, the muffled sound of motor horns in the distance. +Very slowly her head drooped back once more to the shelter of her hands. + +"You don't understand," she said simply. "Why should you? I wasn't +even angry--that is the terrible part of it. I wished--I found myself +wishing--that it were true!" + +Maraton's hands suddenly gripped the edge of the table against which he +was leaning. Her face was still concealed; once more her long, slim +body was shaken with quivering sobs. + +"The shame of it!" she moaned. "That is where he hurt. The shame of +hearing it and knowing it wasn't true and of wanting it to be true! I +haven't ever thought of any one like that--he knows that well enough. +He used to call me sexless. There isn't any man in the world has ever +dared to touch my lips--he knows it." + +Maraton left his place and quietly approached her. She heard him +coming, and the trembling gradually ceased. He sat on the arm of her +chair, and his hand rested gently upon her shoulder. + +"Dear Julia," he said, "I am glad that you have been honest. Life is +always full of these emotions, you know, especially for highly-strung +people, and sometimes the atmosphere gets a little overcharged and they +blaze out as they have done this evening, and perhaps one is the better +for it." + +She remained quite motionless during his brief pause. One hand had +moved from before her face and had gripped his. + +"There's our work, you know, Julia," he went on. "There isn't +anything in the world must interfere with that. We can't divide our +lives, can we? We ought not to want to. If I could make you +understand--can I, I wonder?--how splendid it is to have some one here +by my side who understands. It seems to me that I am going to be a +little lonely. I shall have to stand on my own feet a good deal. I +rely so much upon you, Julia. You are a woman, aren't you--I mean a +real woman? I need you." + +Very slowly she raised her head. Her eyes met his freely. There was +something of the childlike adoration of an instinctive and triumphant +purity in the smile which parted her lips. Maraton understood at once +that the danger was past. The thunder had left the air. + +"You know that I am your slave," she murmured. "Don't be afraid that I +am becoming neurotic. You see, this was all a little new to me, and for +a moment I felt that I wanted to go and hide myself. That has all +passed now. I am not even ashamed. I suppose one gets terrified with +receiving so much, and wants to give. It's a very natural feminine +impulse, isn't it? And I shall give--my fingers, my brain--all I +possess." + +She rose suddenly to her feet and glanced at the clock. + +"What a day you must have had!" she exclaimed. "You are not going to +look at my Sheffield figures, even, before the morning. Oh, you'll be +surprised when you see them! You've a wonderful case. Some of the +fortunes that have been made there--that are being made there now--are +barbaric. I mustn't talk about it, or I shall get angry. Listen, +there's Aaron." + +They heard the sound of his latch-key. A moment later he entered the +room. He looked anxiously at Maraton; Julia he scarcely noticed. + +"I took him home," he announced. "He never spoke a word the whole way; +seemed stupid. I shouldn't be surprised if he hadn't got a little +concussion. + +"Did you send for a doctor?" Maraton asked. + +"His landlady was going to do that," Aaron continued. "It was all I +could do to sit in the cab by his side. I wish--yes, I almost wish that +he'd never got up from that carpet." + +"Thanks," Maraton replied. "I didn't come over here to fill the inside +of an English prison!" + +"Prison!" + +Aaron's expression of contempt was sublime. + +"There's nothing they could have done to you, sir. All the same, I only +wish that your blow had killed him." + +"Why?" + +Aaron dropped his voice for a minute. + +"Because wherever we go or move," he said, "there will always be the +snake in the grass. He will be filled forever with a poisonous hatred +for you. He will never dare to raise his hand against you to your +face--he isn't that sort of man--but he'll have his stab before he's +finished. He was born a sneak." + +Maraton smiled carelessly as he bade them good night. + +"The one thing in the world," he reminded them, "worse than having no +friends, is to have no enemies." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Eight days later, Maraton delivered his preliminary address to the +ironworkers of Sheffield, and at six o'clock the next morning the strike +had been unanimously proclaimed. The columns of the daily newspapers, +still hopelessly bound over to the interests of the capitalist, were +full of solemn warnings against this new and disturbing force in English +sociology. The _Daily Oracle_ alone paused to present a few words of +appreciation of the splendid dramatic force wielded by this +revolutionary. + +"If this man is sincere," the Oracle declared, "the country needs him. +If he is a charlatan, then for heaven's sake, even at the expense of all +the laws that were ever framed, away with him! There is no man +breathing to-day who is developing a more potent, a more wide-reaching +influence upon the destinies of our country." + +Maraton's first address had been delivered to a great multitude, but +there was no building whose roof could cover the hordes of men who had +made up their minds to hear his last words at Sheffield. From far and +wide, the people came that night in countless streams. A platform had +been arranged in the middle of the principal pleasure park of the town, +and around this, from early in the afternoon, they began to take up +their places. When night fell, so far as the eye could see, the ground +was covered with a black mass of humanity. The multitude filled the +park and crowded up the encircling streets. As the darkness deepened, +they lit torches. Beyond, down in the valley and up on the hillside, +were rows of lights and the flare of furnaces soon to be quenched. Even +that little group of hard, unimaginative men who stood with Maraton upon +the platform felt the strange thrill of the tense and swelling throng +gathered together with this inspiring background. + +It seemed to Maraton himself, as he stood there listening to the roar of +welcoming voices, as though all their white faces were gathered into +one, the prototype of suffering humanity, the sad, hollow-checked, +hollow-eyed victim of birth and heritage. His voice seemed to swell +that night to something greater than its usual volume; some peculiar +gift of penetration seemed to have been accorded him. A hundred +thousand men heard his passionate prayer to them. They were +hard-featured, hard-minded Yorkshiremen, most of them, but they never +forgot. + +"You will get the half a crown a week which your leaders demand," +Maraton told them. "Your masters--may God forgive me for using the +word!--will pay to that extent. But--if there is any justice beyond +this world, how, indeed, will they meet the debt built upon your +sufferings, your cramped lives, and the graves of your little children. +That half a crown a week, I say, will come to you. Don't dare, any of +you, to be satisfied when it does come. It isn't a few shillings only +that are owing to you. It's another social system, a rearrangement of +your whole scheme of life, under which you and your children, and your +children's children, may live with the dignity and freedom due to that +strange and common gift of life which beats in your pulses and in mine. +I am here to-night to show you the way to that extra half-crown, but I +don't want you for one moment to think that these small increases in +wages represent the end and aim of myself and those who share my +beliefs. Your day may not see it, nor mine, but history for the last +thousand years has shown us the slow emancipation of the peoples of the +world. There are many rungs in the ladder yet to be climbed. Your +children may have to take up the burden where you have left it. A +revolution may be necessary, sorrows innumerable may lie between you and +the goal of your class. And yet I bid you hope. I plead with each one +of you to remember that he is not only an individual; that he is a unit +of humanity, that he is the progenitor of unborn children, a force from +which will spring the happier and the freer generation, if not in our +time, in the days to come." + +He passed on to speak for a few moments about the reconstituted state of +Society, which was his favourite theme, and from that to a peroration +unprepared--fiercely, passionately eloquent. When he had finished +speaking, the air seemed curiously dull and lifeless; an extraordinary +silence, like the silence before a thunderstorm, brooded over the place. +Then the human sea broke its bounds. The smut-blackened trees quivered +with the thunder of their voices. Showers of sparks rose into the air +from the torches they waved. It was a pandemonium of sound. They came +on like a mighty flood, before whose force the dam has suddenly yielded. +The platform was crushed like a nutshell before their onslaught. They +were mad with a great enthusiasm, beside themselves with a passion +stirred only in such men once or twice in a lifetime. The roar of their +voices, as they shouted his name, reached even to the station, to which +Maraton had been smuggled secretly in a fast motor-car--a disappearance +which a great journalist on the next morning alluded to as the one +supremely dramatic touch in a night of wonders. The roar of voices +indeed was still in his ears as he stood before the window of his +compartment, looking out over the fire-hung city with its vaporous +flames, its huge furnaces, its glare which was already becoming fainter. +A myriad lights still twinkled upon the hillsides; the smoke-stained sky +was red with the reflection of those thousand torches. Even as the +train rushed on into the darkness, he could hear the echo of their cry +as they sought for him. + +"Maraton! Maraton!" + +He threw himself at last into a corner seat of his compartment, and +conscious of a somewhat rare physical exhaustion, he rang the bell for +the attendant and ordered refreshments. The evening papers were by +his side, but he had no fancy to read. The thrill of the last few +hours was still upon him. He sat with folded arms, looking idly through +the window at the chaotic prospect. Suddenly he was aware that the door +of his compartment had been opened. A man had entered and was taking +the seat opposite to him, a man whose appearance struck Maraton at once +as being vaguely familiar, a man who smiled at him almost with the air +of an old acquaintance. + +"You don't recognise me, I can see," the newcomer said, smiling +slightly, "yet we ought to know one another." + +Maraton looked at the intruder curiously. It was, in many respects, a +remarkable face; a low, heavy forehead; eyes in which shone the +unmistakable light; broad, firm mouth; fair hair, left unusually long. +In figure the man was short and stout. His collar had parted, and a +black bow of unusual size was drooping from his shoulder. He was +slightly out of breath, too, as though he had but recently recovered +from some strenuous exercise. + +"I will save you from speculations--I am Henry Selingman," he +pronounced. + +Maraton held out his hand. + +"Selingman!" he exclaimed. "It is your photographs, of course, then. +We have never met." + +"Never until to-night," Selingman admitted. "When I heard that you were +in England, I made up my mind to come over. To-night seemed to me +propitious. I wanted to understand this marvellous power of yours of +which so many people have written. Nothing has been exaggerated. The +message which I have struggled to deliver to the world through my +poetry, my plays, such prose as I have ventured upon, you yourself can +tear from your heart and throw to the people's own ears. . . . +Forgive me--I, too, will smoke. I will drink wine, also," he added, +ringing the bell. "I had a dozen friends to help me, but every bone in +my body aches with the struggle to escape. You maddened them, those +people. It was magnificent." + +He ordered champagne from the attendant and began to smoke a long black +cigar, nervously and quickly. + +"To-night I shall write of this," he went on. "I have lived for +forty-five years and I have hunted all over the world, and in my study I +have conjured up all the visions a man may, but never yet has there been +anything like this. The black hillside a mass of soft black velvet, +jewelled like a woman's gown, the red fires from the blasting furnaces, +the shower of sparks from a thousand torches, the glow upon the fog +poisoned sky, those faces--God, how white! Never in my life have I seen +the writing of the finger of the Messiah as I saw it to-night! It has +been the hour of a lifetime. Maraton, over there, man, our toilers are +toilers indeed, but not like that. It isn't stamped into them. No, +they're not branded." + +"Over there?" Maraton repeated. + +"Belgium, Germany," Selingman continued, "Germany chiefly. Our +Socialism has done better for us than that. It has kindled a little +fire in the heart of the men, and from its warmth has sprung something +of that self-respect which will be the seed of the new humanity. I want +you over there, Maraton. I want to show you. Your heart will warm with +joy. God, what food for hell are your manufacturers here! How they'll +burn!" + +"The curse of England is its terrible middle class," Maraton said +slowly. "The present generation is the first even to dimly realise it. +Our aristocracy is no better nor any worse than the aristocracy of other +nations; rather better, perhaps, than worse. But our middle class rules +the land. They represent the voting power. They conceal their real +sentiments under the name of Liberalism, they keep their heel upon the +neck of Labour. I tell you, when the revolution comes, it will be +Hampstead and Kensington the mob will sack and burn, not Park Lane and +Grosvenor Square." + +"You're right," Selingman agreed; "of course you're right. You and I +make no mistakes. We are of the order of those whose eyes were touched +in the cradle. Maraton, sometimes I am sorry I'm an artist, sometimes I +loathe this sense of beauty which drives my pen into the pleasanter +ways. There's only one thing in the world for you and me to work for. +The world to-day doesn't deserve the offerings of the artist until it +has purged itself. I waste my time writing plays, but then, after all, +I am not English. If those were my people, Maraton, I doubt whether my +pen could ever have wandered even for a moment into the pleasant ways." + +Maraton sighed. + +"There is America, too," he groaned. + +"A conglomeration," Selingman declared hastily, "not to be reckoned with +yet as a nation. What is born amongst the older peoples must find its +way there by natural law. It is not a country for commencements. +England--it is England where the harvest is ripe. What are you doing, +man?" + +Maraton looked thoughtfully out of the window. The train was gathering +speed; they were travelling now at a great pace. Outside, the twilight +was fading. A black cloud had passed across the rising moon. The +electric light illuminated the carriage. It was almost as though they +were passing through a tunnel. + +"You ask me almost the saddest question one could ask," he replied +gently. "I am working for posterity. There is no other course. I +called those people together to-night at Sheffield for the sake of half +a crown a week extra wages. It will make life a little easier for them, +and I suppose every atom of prosperity must count in the sum of their +future and their children's future." + +"Spent in beer, most likely," Selingman muttered. "Why not?" Maraton +exclaimed. "The possession of money to spend in luxuries of any sort +must add something, at least, to their dignity. It means a lightening +of the heart for a moment, an impulse of gladness. Why should we judge? +Beer is only a prototype of other things. Then, Selingman, mark this. +I brought the men of Lancashire out on strike some few weeks ago, and +Sheffield now is following suit. It is a matter of a few shillings a +week only, it is true, but I am very careful to tell them always that it +is simply a compromise which I am advocating. These small increases are +nothing. The operatives have a nature-given right to a share in the +product of their labour. In these days their slave hire is thrown at +them by an interloping person who calls himself an employer. In the +days to come it will be different." + +"You beat time, then!" Selingman cried. "You head the waves! My friend +Maraton, they are right, those who turned me out of my villa at +Versailles and sent me over to you. They were right, indeed! I have +business with you, man--an inspiration to share. Ours is a great +meeting. You know Maxendorf?" + +"By name," Maraton admitted, a little startled. + +"A profound thinker," Selingman declared, "a mighty thinker, a giant, a +pioneer. I tell you that he sees, Maraton. He has pitched his tent +upon the hill-top. What do you know of him?" + +"Chiefly," Maraton replied, "that he is an aristocrat, a diplomatist, +and the future ambassador here of a country I do not love." + +Selingman drained a glass of champagne before he answered. He lit +another of his long, thin cigars and smoked furiously. + +"Aristocrat--yes," he assented, "but you do not know Maxendorf. He will +be a joy to you, man. Oh, he sees! The day of the millions is coming, +and he knows it. On the Continent our middle class isn't like yours. +The conflict will never be so terrible. Thank God, our Labour stands +already with its feet upon the ground. With us, development is all that +is necessary. But you--you are up against a cul-de-sac, a black +mountain of prejudice and custom. Nothing can save you but an +earthquake or a revolution, and you know it. You came to England with +those ideas, Maraton. You have turned opportunist. It was the only +thing left for you. You didn't happen to see the one way out. +To-morrow it will be a new day with you. To-morrow we will show you." + +They were rushing into London now. Selingman rose to his feet. + +"At seven o'clock to-morrow I shall fetch you," he announced, "that is, +if I do not come in the morning. I may come before--I may give you the +whole day for your own. I make no promise. Your address--write it +down. I have no memory." + +Maraton wrote it and passed it over. Selingman thrust it into his +pocket. + +"I go to work," he cried. "Some part of the genius of your voice shall +tremble to-morrow in the genius of my prose. I promise you that. +'Listen,' our friend Maxendorf would say, 'to the vainest man in +Europe!' But I know. No man knows himself save himself. Adieu!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The lengthy reports of his Sheffield visit and speeches, of which the +newspapers made great capital, an extraordinary impression of the same +in Selingman's wonderful prose, and the caprice of a halfpenny paper, +made Maraton suddenly the most talked about man in England. A notoriety +which he would have done much to have avoided was forced upon him. +Early on the morning following his return, his house was besieged with a +little stream of journalists, photographers, politicians, men and women +of all orders and degrees, seeking for a few moments' interview with the +man of the hour. Maraton retreated precipitately into his smaller study +at the back of the house, and left Aaron to cope as well as he might +with the assailing host. Every now and then the telephone bell rang, +and Aaron made his report. + +"There are fourteen men here who want to interview you," he announced, +"all from good papers. If you won't be interviewed, some of them want a +photograph." + +"Send them away," Maraton directed. "Tell them the only photograph I +ever had taken is in the hands of the Chicago police." + +"There's the editor here himself from the _Bi-Weekly_." + +"My compliments and excuses," Maraton replied. "I will be interviewed +by no one." + +"There's a representative from the _Oracle_ here," Aaron continued, "who +wants to know your exact position in connection with the Labour Party. +What shall I say?" + +"Tell him to apply to Mr. Dale!" Maraton answered. + +"Mr. Foley and Lady Elisabeth Landon are outside in a car. Mr. +Foley's compliments, and if you could spare a moment, they would be glad +to come in and see you." + +Maraton hesitated. + +"You had better let them come in. + +"Shall I go?" Julia asked. + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Stay where you are," he enjoined. "Perhaps they will go sooner, if +they see that I am at work with you." + +Mr. Foley was in his best and happiest mood. He shook hands heartily +with Maraton. Elisabeth said nothing at all, but Maraton was conscious +of one swift look into his eyes, and of the--fact that her fingers +rested in his several seconds longer than was necessary. + +"We are profoundly mortified, both my niece and I," Mr. Foley said. +"Never have I had so many journalists on my doorstep, even on that +notorious Thursday when they thought that I was going to declare war. I +really fancy, Maraton, that they are going to make a celebrity of you. +Have you seen the papers?" + +"I have read Selingman's sketch," Maraton replied. + +"They say," Mr. Foley went on, "that he wrote all night at the office +in Fleet Street, and that his sheets were flung into type as he wrote +them. Selingman, too--the great Selingman! You know him?" + +"He travelled down from Sheffield with me last night," Maraton answered. + +"A more dangerous person even than you," Mr. Foley observed, "and an +Anglophobe. Never mind, what did we call about, Elisabeth?" + +"Well, we were really on our way to the city," his niece reminded him. +"It was you who suggested, when we were at the top of the Square, that +we should call in and see Mr. Maraton." + +"There was something in my mind," Mr. Foley persisted. "I remember. +Next Friday is the last day of the session, you know, Mr. Maraton. We +want you to go down to Scotland with us for a week." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"It is very kind of you," he said, "but I shall take no holiday. I need +none. I have endless work here during the vacation. There are some +industries I have scarcely looked into at all. And there is my Bill, +and the draft of another one to follow. Thank you very much, Mr. +Foley, all the same." + +Elisabeth set down the illustrated paper which she had picked up. She +looked across at Maraton. + +"Don't you think for one week, Mr. Maraton," she suggested softly, +"that you could bring your work with you. You could have a study in a +quiet corner of the house, and if you did not care to bring a +secretary, I would promise you the services of an amateur one." + +Perhaps by accident, as she spoke, she glanced across at Julia, and +perhaps by accident Julia at that moment happened to glance up. Their +eyes met. Julia, from the grim loneliness of her own world, looked +steadfastly at this exquisite type of the things in life which she +hated. + +"You are very kind," Maraton repeated, "but indeed I must not think of +it. It seems to me," he went on, after a slight hesitation, "that every +time lately when I have stood at the halting of two ways, and have had +to make up my mind which to follow, I have been forced by circumstances +to choose the easier way. This time, at least, my duty is quite plain. +I have work to do in London which I cannot neglect." + +Elisabeth picked up the paper which she had set down the moment before. +Her eyes had been quick to appreciate the smothered fierceness of +Julia's gaze. At Maraton she did not glance. + +"Well, I am sorry," Mr. Foley said. "You are a young man now, Maraton, +but one works the better for a change. I didn't come to talk shop, but +you've set a nice hornet's nest about our heads up in Sheffield." + +"There are many more to follow," Maraton assured him. + +Mr. Foley chuckled. His sense of humour was indomitable. + +"If there is one thing in the Press this morning," he declared, "more +pronounced than the diatribes upon your speech, it is the number of +compliments paid to me for my perspicuity in extending the hand of +friendship to the most dangerous political factor at present +existent,--vide the _Oracle_. I've wasted many hours arguing with some +of my colleagues. If I had known what was coming, I might just as well +have sat tight and waited for to-day. I am vindicated, whitewashed. +Only the Opposition are furious. They are trying to claim you as a +natural member of the Radical Party. Shouldn't be surprised if they +didn't approach you to-day sometime." + +Maraton smiled. + +"The people I am in the most disgrace with," he observed, "are my own +little lot." + +"That needn't worry you," Mr. Foley rejoined. "Our Labour Members are +not a serious body. The forces they represent are all right, but they +seem to have a perfectly devilish gift of selecting the wrong +representatives. . . . You'll be in the House this afternoon?" +Certainly! + +"I shall be rather curious to see what sort of a reception they give +you," Mr. Foley continued. "You couldn't manage to walk in with me, I +suppose? It would mean such a headline for the _Daily Oracle!_" + +Elisabeth glanced up from her paper. + +"I am afraid, uncle," she remarked, "that _Punch_ was right when it said +that your sense of humour would always prevent your becoming a great +politician." + +"Let _Punch_ wait until I claim the title," Mr. Foley retorted, +smiling. "No man has ever consented to be Premier who was a great +politician--in these days, at any rate. I doubt, even, whether our +friend Maraton would be a successful Premier. I fancy that if ever he +aspires so high, it will be to the Dictatorship of the new republic." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Even the _Oracle_," he reminded them, "is convinced that I have no +personal ambitions." + +Mr. Foley took up his hat. He had been in high good humour throughout +the interview. Already he was looking forward to meeting his +colleagues. + +"Well, we'll be off, Maraton," he said. "We had no right to come and +disturb you at this time in the morning, only we were really anxious to +book you for our quiet week in Scotland. Change your mind about it, +there's a good fellow. I shall be your helpless prey up there. You +could make of me what you would." Maraton shook his head very firmly. + +"It is not possible," he answered. "Please do not think that I do not +appreciate your hospitality--and your kindness, Lady Elisabeth." + +She looked at him for a moment rather curiously. There was something of +reproach in her eyes; something, too, which he failed to understand. +She did not speak at all. + +"Miss Thurnbrein," Maraton begged, "will you see Mr. Foley and Lady +Elisabeth out? It sounds cowardly, doesn't it," he added, "but I really +don't think that I dare show myself." + +Julia rose slowly to her feet and passed towards the door, which Maraton +was holding open. She lingered outside while Maraton shook hands with +his two visitors, then would have hurried on in advance, but that +Elisabeth stopped her. + +"Do tell me," she asked, "you are the Miss Thurnbrein who has written so +much upon woman labour, aren't you?" + +"I have written one or two articles," Julia replied, looking straight +ahead of her. + +"I read one in the National Review," Elisabeth continued, "and another +in one of the evening papers. I can't tell you, Miss Thurnbrein, how +interested I was." + +Julia turned and looked slowly at her questioner. Her cheeks seemed +more pallid than usual, her eyes were full of smouldering fire. + +"I didn't write to interest people," she said calmly. "I wrote to +punish them, to let them know a little of what they were guilty." + +"But surely," Elisabeth protested, "you make some excuse for those who +have really no opportunity for finding out? There is a society now, I +am told, for watching over the conditions of woman labour in the east +end. Is that so really?" + +"There is such a society," Julia admitted. "I am the secretary of it." + +"You must let me join," Elisabeth begged. "Please do. Won't you come +and see me one afternoon--any afternoon--and tell me all about it? +Indeed I am in earnest," she went on, a little puzzled at the other's +unresponsiveness. "This isn't just a whim. I am really interested in +these matters, but it is so hard to help, unless one is put in the right +way." + +"The time has passed," Julia pronounced, "when patronage is of any +assistance to such societies as the one we were speaking of. Nothing is +of any use now but hard, grim work. We don't want money. We don't need +support of any kind whatever. We need work and brains." + +"I am afraid," Elisabeth said, as she held out her hand, "that you think +I am incapable of either." + +Julia's lips were tightly compressed. She made no reply. Mr. Foley +glanced back at her curiously as they stepped into the car. + +"What a singularly forbidding young woman!" he remarked. + +Elisabeth shrugged her shoulders. It is given to women to understand +much! . . . The car glided off. As they neared the corner of the +Square, they passed a stout, foreign-looking man with an enormous head, +a soft grey hat set far back, a quantity of fair hair, and the +ingenuous, eager look of a child. He was hurrying towards the corner +house and scarcely glanced in their direction. Mr. Foley, however, +leaned forward with interest. + +"Who is that strange-looking person?" Elisabeth asked. + +Mr. Foley became impressive. + +"One of the greatest writers and philosophers of the day," he replied. +"I expect he is on his way to see Maraton. That was Henry Selingman." + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Selingman took little heed of the cordon around Maraton. He brushed +them all to one side, and when at last confronted by the final barrier, +in the shape of Julia, he only patted her gently upon the back. + +"Ah, but my dear child," he exclaimed, "you do not understand! Listen. +I raise my voice, I shout--like this--'Maraton, it is I who am +here--Selingman!' You see, he will come if he is within hearing. You +know of me, you pale-faced child? You have heard of Selingman, is it +not so?" + +Before Julia could answer, the door of the study was opened. + +"Come in," Maraton called out from an invisible place. + +Selingman, with a little bow of triumph to Julia, passed down the +passage and into the library. He threw his hat upon the sofa and held +out both his hands to Maraton. Julia, who had followed him, sank into a +chair before her typewriter. + +"I have made you famous, my friend," he declared. "You may quote these +words in after life as representing the full sublimity of my conceit, +but it is true. Have you read my 'Appreciation' in the _Oracle?_" + +"I have," Maraton admitted, smiling. + +"The real thing," Selingman continued, "crisp and crackling with genius. +As they read it, the photographers took down their cameras, the editors +whispered to their journalists to be off to Russell Square, the ladies +began to pen their cards of invitation." + +"That's all very well," Maraton remarked, a little grimly, "but where do +I come in? I have no time for the journalists, I refuse to be +photographed, and I am not likely to accept the invitations. It takes +my two secretaries half their time to wade through my correspondence and +to decide which of it is to be pitched into the waste-paper basket. I +am not a dealer in quack remedies, or an actor. I don't want +advertisement." + +"Pooh, my friend!--pooh!" Selingman retorted, drawing out his worn +leather case and thrusting one of the long black cigars into his mouth. +"Everything that is spontaneous in life is good for you--even +advertisement. But listen to my news. It is great news, believe +me. . . . A match, please." + +Maraton struck a vesta and handed it to him. Selingman transferred the +flame to a piece of paper from the waste-paper basket and puffed +contentedly at his cigar. + +"I light not cigars with a flavour like this, with a wax vesta," he +explained. "Where was I? Oh, I know--the news! This morning I have +received a message. Maxendorf has left for England." Maraton smiled. + +"Is that all?" he said. "I could have told you that myself. The fact +is announced in all the morning papers." + +"He will be at the Ritz Hotel to-night," Selingman continued, unruffled. +"When he arrives, I shall be there. We speak together for an hour and +then I come for you." + +"I shall be glad to meet Maxendorf," Maraton agreed quietly. "He is a +great man. But don't you think for his first few days in England it +would be better to leave him alone, so far as I am concerned?" + +"Later I will remind you of those words," Selingman declared. "For a +genius you see no further than the end of your nose. They tell me that +when you landed, there were prophets in the East End who rose up and +shouted--'Maraton is come! Maraton is here!' No more--just the simple +announcement--as though that fact alone were changing life. Very well. +I will be your prophet and you shall be the people. I will say to you, +as they cried to the Children of Israel groaning under their +toil--Maxendorf has come! Maxendorf is here!" + +Maraton was silent for a moment. He was sitting on the edge of the +table, with folded arms. His visitor was pacing up and down the room, +blowing out dense volumes of smoke. + +"You have more in your mind, Selingman, than you have told me," he said. + +"What is there that is hidden from the eye of genius?" Selingman cried, +with a theatrical wave of the hand. "More than I have told you +indeed--more than I shall tell you. One thing, at least, I have learnt +in my struggles with the pen, and that is to avoid the anti-climax. It +is a great thing to remember that. So I am dumb, I speak no more. . . +Why don't you send your poor little secretary out for a walk? +Mademoiselle, forgive me, but he works you too hard." + +She looked up at him, smiling. + +"I worked very much harder before I came here," she answered quietly. + +"I am fortunate in my secretary," Maraton interposed. "This is Miss +Julia Thurnbrein, Selingman. I don't suppose you read our reviews, but +Miss Thurnbrein is an authority on woman labour." + +"I read nothing," Selingman declared, moving over and grasping her by +the hand. "I read nothing. People are my books. I am forty-five years +old. I have done with reading. I know a great deal, I have read a +great deal; I read no more. Miss Julia Thurnbrein, you say. Well, I +like the name of Julia. Only, young lady, you would do better to spend +a little more time with the roses, and a little less under the roofs of +this grey city. Youth, you know, youth is everything. You work best +for others by realising the joys of life yourself. I, too, am a +philanthropist, Miss Julia--I don't like your other name--I, too, think +and write for others. I, too, have dreams of a millennium, of days when +the huge wheel shall be driven to a different tune, and faces be lifted +to the skies that hang now towards the gutters. But details annoy me, +details I cannot master. I do not want to know how many sufferers there +are in the world and what particular sum they starve upon. I leave +others to do that work. I only point forward to the day of +emancipation. Put your hand in mine and I will show you in time where +the clouds will first break." + +Julia smiled at him a little sadly. + +"Perhaps it is as well," she said, "that we have champions who do not +care for detail. It is detail and the sight of suffering which sap all +the enthusiasms out of us before our time." + +Selingman frowned at her angrily. He blew out another cloud of smoke. + +"You make me angry," he asserted. "I love your sex, I adore womanhood. +I look upon a beautiful woman as a gift to the world. Beauty is a gift +to be made much of, to be nourished, to be glorified. You are tired, +young woman. You work too hard. You have the rare gift--has any one +ever told you that you are beautiful?" + +Julia stared at him, her lips a little parted, half angry, half +wondering. + +"Look at her," Selingman continued, turning to Maraton. "She has the +slim body, the long, delicate figure of those Botticellis we all +love--except the Russians. I never yet met a Russian who could +appreciate a Botticelli. And her eyes--look at them, man. And you let +her sit there till the hollows are forming in her cheeks. Be ashamed of +yourself. Take her out into the country. One works just as well in the +sunshine. You do better work if you can smell flowers growing around +you while your brain is active. Lend her to me for a week. I'll take +her to my cottage in the Ardennes. There I live with the sun--breakfast +at sunrise, to bed at sunset. I will dictate to you, Miss +Julia--dictate beautiful things. You shall be proud always. You shall +say--'I have worked for Selingman. Conceited ass!' you will probably +add. Thank Heavens that I am conceited! Nothing is so splendid in life +as to know your own worth. Nothing makes so much for happiness. . . . +Maraton, where shall I find you to-night?" + +"In the House of Commons, probably," Maraton replied. "But take my +advice. Leave Maxendorf alone for a few days." + +"We will see--we will see," Selingman went on, a little impatiently. +"Come, I have nothing to do--nothing whatever. I came to London to see +you, Maraton. You must put up with me. Work--put it away. The sun +shines. Let us all go into the country. I will get a car. Or what of +the river? Perhaps not. I am too restless, I cannot sit still. I will +walk about always. And I cannot swim. We will take a car and sometimes +we will walk. I go to fetch it now, eh?" + +Maraton glanced helplessly at Julia. They both laughed. + +"I have to be back at four o'clock," the former said. "I have an +appointment at the House of Commons then." + +"Excellent!" Selingman declared. "I go there with you. Your House of +Commons always fascinates me. I hear you speak, perhaps? No? What +does it matter? I will hear the others drone. I go to fetch a car." + +Maraton held out his hand. + +"I have a car," he observed. "It is waiting now at the back entrance. +You had better get your things on, Miss Thurnbrein. I can see that we +have come under the influence of a master spirit." + +She looked at the pile of letters by her side, but Maraton only shook +his head. + +"We must parody his own phrase and declare that 'Selingman is here!'" he +said. "Go and put your things on and tell Aaron. We will steal out +like conspirators at the back door." + +They lunched at a roadside inn in Buckinghamshire, an inn ivy-covered, +with a lawn behind, and a garden full of cottage flowers. Selingman +with his own hands dragged out the table from the little sitting-room, +through the open windows to a shaded corner of the lawn, drew the cork +from a bottle of wine, and taking off his coat, started to make a salad. + +"Insects everywhere," he remarked cheerfully. "Hold your parasol over +my salad, please, Miss Julia. So! What does it matter? Where there +are flowers and trees there must be insects. Let them live their day of +life." + +"So long as we don't eat them!" Julia protested. + +"I have tasted insects in South America which were delicious," Selingman +assured them. "There--leave your parasol over the salad, and, Maraton, +move the ice-pail a little more into the shade. Now, while they set the +luncheon, we will walk in that little flower garden, and I will tell +you, if you like, a story of mine I once wrote, the story of two roses. +I published it, alas! It is so hard to save even our most beautiful +thoughts from the vulgarity of print, in these days where +everything--love and wine, and even the roses themselves--cost money. +Bah!" + +"The story, please," Julia begged. + +He walked in the middle and took an arm of each of his companions. + +"So you would hear my little story?" he exclaimed. "Then listen." + +They obeyed. Presently he forgot himself. His eyes were half-closed, +his thoughts seemed to have wandered into the strangest places. As his +allegory proceeded, he seemed to drift away from all knowledge of his +immediate surroundings. He chose his words always with the most +exquisite and precise care. They listened, entranced. Then suddenly he +stopped short in the path. + +"For half an hour have I been giving of myself," he declared. "Almost I +faint. Come." + +He tightened his grasp upon their arms and started walking with short, +abrupt footsteps--and great haste for the luncheon table. + +"Fool that I am!" he muttered. "It is one o'clock, and I lunch always +at half-past twelve. I must eat quickly. See, the waiter looks at us +sorrowfully. What of the omelette, I wonder? Come, Miss Julia, at my +right hand there. Ah! was I not right? The roses are creeping +already--creeping into their proper place. Sit back in your chair and +eat slowly and drink the yellow wine, and listen to the humming of those +bees. So soon you will become normal, a woman, just what you should be. +Heavens! It is well that I came to see Maraton. When I saw you this +morning in that room, I said to myself--'There is a human creature who +half lives. What a sin to half live!' . . . Taste that salad, +Maraton. Taste it, man, and admit that it is well that I came." + +They were alone in the garden--the inn was a little way off the main +road and they had discovered it entirely by accident. Both Julia and +Maraton yielded gracefully enough to the influence of their companion's +personality. + +"Whether it is well for us or not," Maraton remarked, as he watched the +wine flow into his glass, "to yield up one's will like this, to become +even as a docile child, I do not know, but it is very pleasant. It is +an hour of detachment." + +"It is the secret of youth, the secret of life, the secret of joy," +Selingman declared. "Detachment is the word. Life would make slaves of +all of us, if one did not sometimes square one's shoulders and say--'No, +thank you, I have had enough! Good-bye! I return presently.' One needs +a will, perhaps, but then, what is life without will? I myself was at +work. The greatest theatrical manager in the world kept sentry before +my door. The greatest genius who ever trod upon the stage sent me +frantic messages every few hours. Then they spoke to me of Maraton. I +heard the cry--'Maraton is here!' I heard the thunder from across the +seas. Up from my desk, out from my room--hysterics, entreaties, nothing +stopped me. No luggage worth mentioning. Away I come, to London, to +Sheffield--what a place! To-morrow--to-morrow or the next day I return, +full of life and vigour. It is splendid. I broke away. No one else +could have done it. I left them in tears. What did I care? It is for +myself--for myself I do these things. Unless I myself am at my best, +what have I to give the world? Miss Julia, your health! To the roses, +and may they never leave your cheeks! No, don't go yet. There are +strawberries coming." + +Maraton and his host sat together for a few moments in the garden before +they started on their return journey. Selingman leaned across the +table. He had forgotten to put on his coat, and he sat unabashed in his +shirt sleeves. He had drunk a good deal of wine, and the little beads +of perspiration stood out upon his forehead. + +"Maraton," he said, "you need me. You are like the others. When the +fire has touched their eyes and indeed they see the things that are, +they fall on their knees and they tear away at the weeds and rubbish +that cumber the earth, and they never lift their eyes, and soon their +frame grows weary and their heart cold. Be wise, man. The mark is upon +you. Those live best and work best in this world who have a soul for +its beauties. Women, for instance," he went on, smoking furiously. +"What help do you make of women? None! You sit at one end of the +table, your secretary at the other. You don't look at her. She might +have pig's eyes, for anything you know about it. Idiot! And she--not +quite as bad, perhaps. Women feel a little, you know, that they don't +show. Why not marry, Maraton? No? Perhaps you are right. And yet +women are wonderful. You can't do your greatest work, Maraton, you +never will reach your greatest work, unless a woman's hand is yours." + +They rode back to London in comparative silence. Selingman frankly and +openly slept, with his grey hat on the back of his head, his untidy feet +upon the opposite cushions, his mouth wide open. Maraton more than once +found himself watching Julia covertly. There was no doubt that in her +strange, quiet way she was beautiful. As he sat and looked at her, his +thoughts travelled back to the little garden, the sheltered corner under +the trees, the curious sense of relaxation which in that short hour +Selingman had inspired. Was the man indeed right, his philosophy sound? +Was there indeed wisdom in the loosening of the bonds? He met her eyes +suddenly, and she smiled at him. With her--well, he scarcely dared to +tell himself that he knew how it was. He closed his eyes again. A +thought had come to him sweeter than any yet. + +As they neared London, Selingman awoke, smiled blandly upon them, +brushed the cigar ash from his coat and waistcoat, put on his hat and +looked about him with interest. + +"So we are arrived," he said presently. "The Houses of Parliament, eh? +I enter with you, Maraton. You find me a corner where I sleep while the +others speak, and wake at the sound of your voice. Afterwards, late +to-night, we shall go to Maxendorf." + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +It happened to be a quiet evening in the House, and Maraton and +Selingman dined together at a little before eight o'clock. Selingman's +personality was too unusual to escape attention, and as his identity +became known, a good many passers-by looked at them curiously. Some one +sent word to Mr. Foley of their presence, and very soon he came in and +joined them. + +"Six years ago this month, Mr. Selingman," the Prime Minister reminded +him, "we met at Madame Hermene's in Paris. You were often there in +those days." + +Selingman nodded vigorously. + +"I remember it perfectly," he said--"perfectly. It was a wonderful +evening. An English Cabinet Minister, the President of France, +Coquelin, Rostand, and I myself were there. A clever woman! She knew +how to attract. In England there is nothing of the sort, eh?" + +"Nothing," Mr. Foley admitted. "I am going to beg you both to come on +to me to-night. My niece is receiving a few friends. But I can promise +you nothing of the same class of attraction, Mr. Selingman." + +"We cannot come," Selingman declared, without hesitation. "I take my +friend Maraton somewhere. As we sit here, Mr. Foley, we have spoken of +politics. You are a great man. If any one can lift your country from +the rut along which she is travelling, you will do it. A Unionist Prime +Minister and you hold out the hand to Maraton! But what foresight! +What acumen! You see beyond the thunder-clouds the things that we have +seen. Not only do you see them, but you have the courage to follow your +convictions. What a mess you are making of Parties!" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Ah, well, you see," he said, "I am no politician. It is the one claim +I have upon posterity that I am the first non-politician who ever became +Prime Minister." + +"Excellent! Excellent!" Selingman murmured. + +"Maraton, alas!" Mr. Foley continued, "is only half a convert. As yet +he wears his yoke heavily." + +"A queer place for him," Selingman declared. "I looked down and saw him +there this evening. I listened to the dozen words he spoke. He seemed +to me rather like a lawyer, who, having a dull case, says what he has to +say and sits down. Does he do any real good here, Mr. Foley?" + +"It is from these walls," the Prime Minister reminded him, "that the +laws of the country are framed." + +Selingman shook his head slowly. + +"Academically correct," he admitted, "and yet, walls of brick and stone +may crumble and split. The laws which endure come into being through +the power of the people." + +"Don't throw cold water upon my compromise," Mr. Foley begged. "We are +hoping for great things. We are fighting the class against which you +have written so splendidly; we are fighting the bourgeoisie, tooth and +nail. One thing is certainly written--that if Maraton here stands by my +side for the next seven years, Labour will have thrown off one, at +least, of the shackles that bind her. Isn't it better to release her +slowly and gradually, than to destroy her altogether by trying more +violent means?" + +"Ah, who knows!" Selingman remarked enigmatically. "Who knows! . . . +And what of the rest of the evening? Are there more laws to be +made--more speeches?" + +"Finished," Mr. Foley replied. "There is nothing more to be done. +That is why I am proposing that you two men go to your rooms, make +yourselves look as much like Philistines as you can, and come and pay +your respects to my niece. Lady Elisabeth is complaining a little about +you, Maraton," he went on. "You are a rare visitor." + +"Lady Elisabeth is very kind," Maraton murmured. + +"I wish that we could come," Selingman said. "If I lived here long, I +would bustle our friend Maraton about. To-day I have had him a little +way into the country, him and his pale-faced secretary, and I have +poured sunshine down upon them, and wine, and good things to eat. Oh, +they are very narrow, both of them, when they look out at life! Not so +am I. I love to feel the great thoughts swinging through my brain, but I +love also the good things of life. I love the interludes of careless +joys, I love all the pleasant things our bodies were meant to +appreciate. Those who do not, they wither early. I do not like pale +cheeks. Therefore, I wish that I could stay a little time with this +friend of ours. I would see that he paid his respects to all the +charming ladies who were ready to welcome him." + +Mr. Foley laughed softly. + +"What a marvellous mixture you would make, you two!" he observed. "Your +prose and Maraton's eloquence, your philosophy and his tenacity. So you +won't come? Well, I am disappointed." + +"We go to see a friend of mine," Selingman announced. "We go to pay our +respects to a man famous indeed, a man who will make history in your +country." + +Mr. Foley's expression suddenly changed. He leaned a little across the +table. + +"Are you speaking of Maxendorf?" + +Selingman nodded vigorously. + +"Since you have guessed it--yes," he admitted. "We go to Maxendorf. I +take Maraton there. It will be a great meeting. We three--we represent +much. A great meeting, indeed." + +Mr. Foley's face was troubled. + +"Maxendorf only arrives to-night," he remarked presently. + +"What matter?" Selingman replied. "He is like me--he is tireless, and +though his body be weary, his brain is ever working." + +"What do they say on the Continent about his coming?" Mr. Foley +enquired. "We thought that he was settled for life in Rome." + +Selingman shook his head portentously. + +"Politics," he declared, "ah! in the abstract they are wonderful, but +in the concrete they do not interest me. Maxendorf has come here, +doubtless, with great schemes in his mind." + +"Schemes of friendship or of enmity?" Mr. Foley asked swiftly. + +Selingman's shoulders were hunched. + +"Who can tell? Who can tell the thoughts which his brain has conceived? +Maxendorf is a silent man. He is the first people's champion who has +ever held high office in his country. You see, he has the gifts which +no one can deny. He moves forward to whatever place he would occupy, +and he takes it. He is in politics as I in literature." + +The man's magnificent egotism passed unnoticed. Curiously enough, the +truth of it was so apparent that its expression seemed natural. + +"I must confess," Mr. Foley said quietly, "to you two alone, that I had +rather he had come at some other time. Selingman, you are indeed one of +the happiest of the earth. You have no responsibilities save the +responsibilities you owe to your genius. The only call to which you +need listen is the call to give to the world the thoughts and music +which beat in your brain. And with us, things are different. There is +the future of a country, the future of an Empire, always at stake, when +one sleeps and when one wakes." + +Selingman nodded his head vigorously. + +"Frankly," he admitted, "I sympathise with you. Responsibility I hate. +And yours, Mr. Foley," he added, "is a great one. I am a friend of +England. I am a friend of the England who should be. As your country +is to-day, I fear that she has very few friends indeed, apart from her +own shores. You may gain allies from reasons of policy, but you have +not the national gifts which win friendship." + +"How do you account for it?" Mr. Foley asked him. + +"Your Press, for one thing," Selingman replied; "your Press, written for +and inspired with the whole spirit of the bourgeoisie. You prate about +your Empire, but you've never learnt yet to think imperially. But +there, it is not for this I crossed the Channel. It is to be with +Maraton." + +"So long as you do not take him from me, I will not grudge you his +company," Mr. Foley remarked, rising. "On the other hand, I would very +much rather that you made your bow to my niece to-night than went to +Maxendorf." + +Maraton felt suddenly a twinge of something I which was almost +compunction. Mr. Foley's face was white and tired. He had the air of +a man oppressed with anxieties which he was doing his best to conceal. + +"If I can," he said, "I should like very much to see Lady Elisabeth. +Perhaps I shall be in time after our interview with Maxendorf, or +before. I will go home and change, on the chance." + +The Prime Minister nodded, but his slightly relaxed expression seemed to +show that he appreciated Maraton's intention. Selingman looked after +him gloomily as he left the room. + +"What devilish impulse," he muttered, "leads these men to pass into your +rotten English politics! It is like a poet trying to navigate a +dredger. Bah!" + +"Need you go into that gloomy chamber again, my friend?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"I have finished," he declared. "There will be no division." + +"But do you never speak there?" + +"Up to now I have not uttered more than a dozen words or so," Maraton +replied. "You try it yourself--try speaking to a crowd of well-dressed, +well-fed, smug units of respectability, each with his mind full of his +own affairs or the affairs of his constituency. You try it. You +wouldn't find the words stream, I can tell you." + +Selingman grunted. + +"And now--what now?" + +"To my rooms--to my house," Maraton announced, "while I change." + +"It is good. I shall talk to your secretary. I shall talk to Miss +Julia while you disappear. Shall I rob you, my friend?" + +"You would rob me of a great deal if you took her away," Maraton +answered, "but--" + +Selingman interrupted him with a fiercely contemptuous exclamation. + +"You have it--the rotten, insular conceit of these Englishmen! You +think that she would not come? Do you think that if I were to say to +her,--'Come and listen while I make garlands of words, while I take you +through the golden doors!'--do you think that she would not put her hand +in mine? Fancy--to live in my fairy chamber, to listen while I give +shape and substance to all that I conceive--what woman would refuse!" + +Maraton laughed softly as they passed out into the Palace yard. + +"Try Julia," he suggested. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Selingman had the air of one who has achieved a personal triumph as, +with his arm in Maraton's, he led him towards the man whom they had come +to visit. + +"Behold!" he exclaimed. "It is a triumph, this! It is a thing to be +remembered! I have brought you two together!" + +Maraton's first impressions of Maxendorf were curiously mixed. He saw +before him a tall, lanky figure of a man, dressed in sombre black, a man +of dark complexion, with beardless face and tanned skin plentifully +freckled. His hair and eyes were coal black. He held out his hand to +Maraton, but the smile with which he had welcomed Selingman had passed +from his lips. + +"You are not the Maraton I expected some day to meet," he said, a little +bluntly, "and yet I am glad to know you." + +Selingman shrugged his shoulders. + +"Max--my friend Max, do not be peevish," he begged. "I tell you that he +is the Maraton of whom we have spoken together. I have heard him. I +have been to Sheffield and listened. Don't be prejudiced, Max. Wait." + +Maxendorf motioned them to seats and stood with his finger upon the +bell. + +"Yes," Selingman assented, "we will drink with you. You breathe of the +Rhine, my friend. I see myself sitting with you in your terraced +garden, drinking Moselle wine out of cut glasses. So it shall be. We +will fall into the atmosphere. What a palace you live in, Max! Is it +because you are an ambassador that they must house you so splendidly?" + +Maxendorf glanced around him. He was in one of the best suites in the +hotel, but he had the air of one who was only then, for the first time, +made aware of the fact. + +"These things are done for me," he said carelessly. "It seems I have +come before I was expected. The Embassy is scarcely ready for +occupation." + +He ordered wine from the waiter and exchanged personal reminiscences +with Selingman until it was brought. Selingman grunted with +satisfaction. + +"Two bottles," he remarked. "Come, I like that. A less thoughtful man +would have ordered one first and the other afterwards. The period of +waiting for the second bottle would have destroyed the appetite. Quite +an artist, my friend Max. And the wine--well, we shall see." + +He raised the glass to his lips with the air of a connoisseur. + +"It will do," he decided, setting it down empty and lighting one of his +black cigars. "Now let us talk. Or shall I, for a change, be silent +and let you talk? To-day my tongue has been busy. Maraton is a silent +man, and he has a silent secretary with great eyes behind which lurk +fancies and dreams the poor little thing has never been encouraged to +speak of. A silent man--Maraton. Rather like you, Max. Which of you +will talk the more, I wonder? I shall be dumb." + +"It will be I who will talk," Maxendorf asserted. "I, because I have a +mission, things to explain to our friend here, if he will but listen." + +"Listen--of course he will listen!" Selingman interrupted. "You +two--what was it the _Oracle_ called you both--the world's deliverers. +Put your heads together and decide how you are going to do it. The +people over here, Max, are rotting in their kennels. Sink-holes they +live in. Live! What a word!" + +"If you indeed have something to say to me," Maraton proposed, "let us +each remember who we are. There is no need for preambles. I know you +to be a people's man. We have all watched your rise. We have all +marvelled at it." + +"A Socialist statesman in the stiffest-necked country of Europe," +Selingman muttered. "Marvelled at it, indeed!" + +"I am where I am," Maxendorf declared, "because the world is governed by +laws, and in the main they are laws of justice and right. The people of +my country fifty years ago were as deep in the mire as the people of +your country to-day. Their liberation has already dawned. That is why +I stand where I do. Your people, alas! are still dwellers in the +caves. The moment for you has not yet arrived. When I heard that +Maraton had come to England, I changed all my plans. I said to +myself--' I will go to Maraton and I will show him how he may lead his +people to the light.' And then I heard other things." + +"Continue," Maraton said simply. + +Maxendorf rose to his feet. He came a little nearer to Maraton. He +stood looking down at him with folded arms--a lank, gaunt figure, the +angular lines of his body and limbs accentuated by his black clothes and +black tie. + +"It came upon me like a thunderbolt," Maxendorf proceeded. "I heard +unexpectedly that Maraton had entered Parliament, had placed his hand in +the hand of a Minister--not even the leader of the people's Party. You +do not read the Press of my country, perhaps. You did not hear across +the seas the groan which came from the hearts of my children. I said to +myself--'The Maraton whom we knew of exists no longer, yet I will go +and see.'" + +Maraton moved in his chair a little uneasily. He felt suddenly as +though he were a prisoner at the bar, and this man his judge. + +"You do not understand the circumstances which I found existing on my +arrival here," Maraton explained. "You do not understand the promises +which I have received from Mr. Foley, and which he is already carrying +into effect. You read of the Lancashire strike?" + +Maxendorf nodded his long head slowly but said nothing. + +"The settlement of that," Maraton continued, "was arranged before I +spoke to the people. It is the same with Sheffield. For the first +time, the Parliament of this country has passed a measure compelling the +manufacturers to recognise and treat with the demands of the people. +Trade Unionism has been lifted to an entirely different level. There +are three Bills now being drafted--people's Bills. Revolutionary +measures they would have been called, a thousand years ago. Every +industry in the country will have its day. In the next ten years +Capital will have earned many millions less, and those many millions +will have gone to the labouring classes." + +"Is it you who speak," Maxendorf asked grimly, "or is this another +man--a sophist living in the shadow of Maraton's fame? Is there +anything of the truth, anything of the great compelling truth in this +piecemeal legislation? Is it in this way that the freedom of a country +can be gained? One gathered that the Maraton who sent his message +across the seas had different plans." + +"I had," Maraton admitted, "but the time came when I was forced to ask +myself whether they were not rather the plans of the dreamer and the +theorist, when I was forced to ask myself whether I was justified in +destroying this generation for the sake of those to come. Life, after +all, is a marvellous gift. You and I may believe in immortality, but +who can be sure? It is easy enough to play chess, but when the pawns +are human lives, who would not hesitate?" + +Maxendorf sighed. + +"I cannot talk with you, Maraton," he said. "You will not speak with me +honestly. You came, you landed on these shores with an inspired +idea--something magnificent, something worthy. You have substituted for +it the time-worn methods of all the reformers since the days of Adam, +who have parted with their principles and dabbled in sentimental +altruism. Piecemeal legislation--what can it do?" + +"It can build," Maraton declared. "It can build, generation by +generation. It can produce a saner race, and as the light comes, so the +truth will flow in upon the minds of all." + +"An illusion!" Selingman interrupted, with a sudden fierceness in his +tone. "Once, Maraton, you looked at life sanely enough. Are you sure +that to-day you have not put on the poisoned spectacles? Don't you know +the end of these spasmodic reforms? You pass, your influence passes, +your mantle is buried in your grave, and the country slips back, and the +people suffer, and the great wheel grinds them into bone and powder just +as surely a century hence as a century ago. Man, you don't start right. +If you would restore a ruined and neglected garden, you must first +destroy, make a bonfire of the weeds prepare your soil. Then, in the +springtime, fresh flowers will blossom, the trees will give leaf, the +birds who have deserted a ruined and fruitless waste will return and +sing once more the song of life. But there must be destruction, +Maraton. You yourself preached it once, preached fire and the sword. +Something has gone from you since those days. Compromise--the spirit of +compromise you call it. How one hates the sound of it! Bah! Man, you +are on a lower level, when you talk the smug talk of to-day. I am +disappointed in you. Maxendorf is disappointed in you. You are riding +down the easy way on to the sandbanks of failure." + +"Your garden," Maraton rejoined, with an answering note of passion in +his tone, "would never have blossomed again if you had driven the plough +across it, ripped up its fruit trees, torn up its neglected plants by +ruthless force. You must plant fresh seed and grow new trees. Then +there's another nation, another world. What about your responsibilities +to the present one? Isn't it great to save what is, rather than to +destroy for the sake of those who have neither toiled nor suffered? I +thought as you once. The philosopher thinks like that in his study. +Stand before those people, look into their white, labour-worn faces, +feel with them, sorrow with them for a little time, and I tell you that +your hand will falter before it drives the plough. You will raise your +eyes to heaven and pray that you may see some way of bringing help to +them--to them who live--the help for which they crave. Haven't they a +right to their lives? Who gives us a mandate to sweep them away for the +sake of the unborn?" + +"You have become a sentimentalist, Maraton," Maxendorf declared grimly. +"The soft places in your heart have led you to forget for a moment the +inexorable laws. Let us pass from these generalities. Let us speak of +things such as you had at first intended. I know what was in your +heart. You meant to pass from Birmingham to Glasgow, to preach the holy +war of Labour, a giant crusade. You meant to close the mills, to stop +the wheels, to blank the forges and rake out the furnaces of the +country. You meant to place your finger upon its arteries and stop +their beating. You meant to turn the people loose upon their +oppressors. Though they must perish in their thousands, yet you meant +to show them the naked truth, to show them of what they are being +deprived, to show them the irresistible laws of justice, so that for +very shame they must drop their tools and stand for their rights. Why +didn't you do it?" + +"I have told you," Maraton answered. + +"Yes, you have told us," Maxendorf continued. "Supposing there were +still a way by which even this present generation could reap the +benefit? Are you great enough, Maraton, to listen to me, I wonder? +That is what I ask myself since you have become a Party politician, a +friend of Ministers, since you have joined in the puppet dance of the +world. See to what I have brought my people. In ten years' time I tell +you that nearly every industry in my country will be conducted upon a +profit-sharing basis." + +"You have brought them to this," Maraton reminded him swiftly, "by +peaceful methods." + +"For me there were no other needed," Maxendorf urged. "For you the case +is different. If you are one of those who love to strut about and boast +of your nationality, if you are one of those in whom lingers the +smallest particle of the falsest sentiment which the age of romance has +ever handed down to us--what they call patriotism--then my words will be +wasted. But here is the message which I have brought to you and to your +people. This is the dream of my life which he, Selingman, alone has +known of--the fusion of our races." + +"Magnificent!" Selingman cried, springing to his feet. "The dream of a +god! Listen to it, Maraton. My brain has realised it. I, too, have +seen it. Your country is bound in the everlasting shackles. +Generations must pass before you can even weaken the hold of your +bourgeoisie upon the soul and spirit of your land. You are tied hard +and fast, and withal you are on the downward grade. The work which you +do to-day, the next generation will undo. Give up this foolish +legislation. Listen to Maxendorf. He will show you the way." + +"When you speak of fusion," Maraton asked, "you mean conquest?" + +"There is no such word," Maxendorf insisted. "The hearts of our people +are close together. Put aside all these artificial ententes and +alliances. There are no two people whose ideals and whose aims and +whose destiny are so close together as your country's and mine. It is +for that very reason that these periods of distrust and suspicion +continually occur, suspicions which impoverish two countries with the +millions we spend on senseless schemes of defence. Away with them all. +Stop the pendulum of your country. Declare your coal strike, your +railway strike, your ironfounders' strike. Let the revolution come. I +tell you then that we shall appear not as invaders, but as friends and +liberators. Your industries shall start again on a new basis, the basis +which you and I know of, the basis which gives to the toilers their just +and legitimate share of what they produce. Your trade shall flourish +just as it flourished before, but away to dust and powder with your +streets of pig-sties, the rat-holes into which your weary labourers +creep after their hours of senseless slavery. You and I, Maraton, know +how industries should be conducted. You and I know the just share which +Capital should claim. You and I together will make the laws. Oh, what +does it matter whether you are English or Icelanders, Fins or Turks! +Humanity is so much greater than nationality. Your men shall work side +by side with mine, and what each produces, each shall have. What is +being done for my country shall surely be done for yours. Can't you +see, Maraton--can't you see, my prophet who gropes in the darkness, that +I am showing you the only way?" + +Maraton rose to his feet. He came and stood by Maxendorf's side. + +"Maxendorf," he said, "you may be speaking to me from your heart. Yes, +I will admit that you are speaking to me from your heart. But you ask +me to take an awful risk. You stand first in your country to-day, but +in your country there are other powerful influences at work. So much of +what you say is true. If I believed, Maxendorf--if I believed that this +fusion, as you call it, of our people could come about in the way you +suggest, if I believed that the building up of our prosperity could +start again on the real and rational basis of many of your institutions, +if I believed this, Maxendorf, no false sentiment would stand in my way. +I would risk the eternal shame of the historians. So far as I could do +it, I would give you this country. But there is always the doubt, the +awful doubt. You have a ruler whose ideas are not your ideas. You have +a people behind you who are strange to me. I have not travelled in your +country, I know little of it. What if your people should assume the +guise of conquerors, should garrison our towns with foreign soldiers, +demand a huge indemnity, and then, withdrawing, leave us to our fate? +You have no guarantees to offer me, Maxendorf." + +"None but my word," Maxendorf confessed quietly. + +"You bargain like a politician!" Selingman cried. "Man, can't you see +the glory of it?" + +"I can see the glory," Maraton answered, turning around, "but I can see +also the ineffaceable ignominy of it. Is your country great enough, +Maxendorf, to follow where your finger points? I do not know." + +"Yet you, too," Maxendorf persisted, "must sometimes have looked into +futurity. You must have seen the slow decay of national pride, the +nations of the world growing closer and closer together. Can't you bear +to strike a blow for the great things? You and I see so well the utter +barbarism of warfare, the hideous waste of our mighty armaments, +draining the money like blood from our countries, and all for +senselessness, all just to keep alive that strange spirit which belongs +to the days of romance, and the days of romance only. It's a workaday +world now, Maraton. We draw nearer to the last bend in the world's +history. Oh, this is the truth! I have seen it for so long. It's my +religion, Maraton. The time may not have come to preach it broadcast, +but it's there in my heart." + +Selingman struck the table with the palm of his hand. + +"Enough!" he said. "The words have been spoken. To-morrow or the next +day we meet again. Go to your study, Maraton, and think. Lock the +door. Turn out the Julia I shall some day rob you of. Hold your head, +look into the future. Think! Think! No more words now. They do no +good. Come. I stay with Maxendorf. I go with you to the lift." + +Maxendorf held out his hand. + +"Selingman is, as usual, right," he confessed. "We are speaking in a +great language, Maraton. It is enough for to-night, perhaps. Come back +to me when you will within the next forty-eight hours." + +They left him there, a curious figure, straight and motionless, standing +upon the threshold of his room. Selingman gripped Maraton by the arm as +he hurried him along the corridor. + +"You've doubts, Maraton," he muttered. "Doubts! Curse them! They are +not worthy. You should see the truth. You're big enough. You will see +it to-morrow. Get out of the fog. Maxendorf is the most profound +thinker of these days. He is over here with that scheme of his deep in +his heart. It's become a passion with him. We have talked of it by the +hour, spoken of you, prayed for some prophet on your side with eyes to +see the truth. Into the lift with you, man. Look for me to-morrow. +Farewell!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Maraton was more than ever conscious, as he climbed the stairs of the +house in Downing Street an hour or so later, of a certain fragility of +appearance in Mr. Foley, markedly apparent during these last few weeks. +He was standing talking to Lord Armley, who was one of the late +arrivals, as Maraton entered, talking in a low tone and with an +obviously serious manner. At the sound of Maraton's name, however, he +turned swiftly around. His face seemed to lighten. He held out his +hand with an air almost of relief. + +"So you have come!" he exclaimed. "I am glad." + +Maraton shook hands and would have passed on, but Mr. Foley detained +him. + +"Armley and I were talking about this after noon's decision," he +continued. "There will be no secret about it to-morrow. It has been +decided to carry out our autumn manoeuvred as usual in South em waters." + +Maraton nodded. + +"I am afraid that is one of the things the significance of which fails +to reach me," he remarked. "You were against it, were you not?" + +Mr. Foley groaned softly. + +"My friend," he said, "there is only one fault with the Members of my +Government, only one fault with this country. We are all foolishly and +blindly sanguine. We are optimistic by persuasion and self-persuasion. +We like the comfortable creed. I suppose that the bogey of war has +strutted with us for so long that we have grown used to it." + +Maraton looked at his companion thoughtfully. + +"Do you seriously believe, Mr. Foley," he asked in an undertone, "in +the possibility, in the imminent possibility of war?" + +Mr. Foley half-closed his eyes and sighed. + +"Oh, my dear Maraton," he murmured, "it isn't a question of belief! +It's like asking me whether I believe I can see from here into my own +drawing-room. The figures in there are real enough, aren't they? So is +the cloud I can see gathering all the time over our heads. It is a +question only of the propitious moment--of that there is no manner of +doubt." + +"You speak of affairs," Maraton admitted, "of which I know nothing. I +do not even understand the balance of power. I always thought, though, +that every great nation, our own included, paid a certain amount of +insurance in the shape of huge contributions towards a navy and army; +that we paid such insurance as was necessary and were rewarded with +adequate results." + +Mr. Foley forgot his depression for an instant, and smiled. + +"What a theorist you are! It all depends upon the amount of insurance +you take up, whether the risk is covered. We've under-insured for many +years, thanks to that little kink in our disposition. We got a nasty +knock in South Africa and we had to pay our own loss. It did us good +for a year or two. Now the pendulum has just reached the other extreme. +We've swung back once more into our silly dream. Oh, Maraton, it's true +enough that we have great problems to face sociologically! Don't think +that I underrate them. You know I don't. But every time I sit and talk +to you, I have always at the back of my mind that other fear. . . . +Have you seen Maxendorf to-night?" + +"I have just left him," Maraton replied. + +"An interesting interview?" + +"Very!" + +Mr. Foley gripped his arm. + +"My friend," he said,--"you see, I am beginning to call you that--you +have talked to-night with one of the most wonderful and the most +dangerous enemies of our country. You won't think me drivelling, will +you, or presuming, if I beg you to remember that fact, and that you are, +notwithstanding your foreign birth, one of us? You are an Englishman, a +member of the English House of Parliament." + +"I do not forget that," Maraton declared gravely. + +"Go and find Lady Elisabeth," Mr. Foley directed. "She was a little +hurt at the idea that you were not coming. I have a few more words to +say to Armley." + +Maraton passed on into the rooms, which were only half filled. Some +fancy possessed him to pause for a moment in the spot where he had stood +alone for some time on his first visit to this house, and as he lingered +there, Lady Elisabeth came into the room, leaning on the arm of a great +lawyer. She saw him almost at once--her eyes, indeed, seemed to glance +instinctively towards the spot where he was standing. Maraton felt the +change in her expression. With a whisper she left her escort and came +immediately in his direction. He watched her, step by step. Was it his +fancy or had she lost some of the haughtiness of carriage which he had +noticed that night not many months ago; the slight coldness which in +those first moments had half attracted and half repelled him? Perhaps +it was because he was now admitted within the circle of her friends. +She came to him, at any rate, quickly, almost eagerly, and the smile +about her lips as she took his hand was one of real and natural +pleasure. + +"How good of you!" she murmured. "I scarcely hoped that you would come. +You have been with Maxendorf?" + +He nodded. + +"Is it a confession?" he asked. "It was Mr. Foley's first question to +me." + +"It is because we hate and distrust the man," she replied. "You aren't +a politician, you see, Mr. Maraton. You don't quite appreciate some of +the forces which are making an old man of my uncle to-day, which make +life almost intolerable for many of us when we think seriously," she +went on simply. + +"Aren't you exaggerating that sentiment just a little?" he suggested. + +"Not a particle," she assured him. "However, you came here to be +entertained, didn't you? I won't croak to you any more. I think I have +done my duty for this evening. Let us find a corner and talk like +ordinary human beings. Are you going in to supper?" + +"I hadn't thought of it," he admitted. + +"I dined at seven o'clock," she told him. "We seem to have provided +supper for hundreds of people, and I am sure not half of them are +coming." + +They passed through two of the rooms into a long, low apartment which +led into the winter gardens. At one end refreshments were being served, +and the rest of the space was taken up with little tables. Elisabeth +led him to one placed just inside the winter garden. A footman filled +their glasses with champagne. + +"Now we are going to be normal human beings," she declared. "How much I +wish that you really were a normal human being!" + +"In what respect am I different?" + +"You know quite well," she answered. "I should like you to be what you +seem to be--just a capable, clever, rising politician, with a place in +the Cabinet before you, working for your country, sincere, free from all +these strange notions." + +"Working for my country," he repeated. "That is just the difficult part +of the whole situation, nowadays. I know that I am rather a trouble to +your uncle. Sometimes I fear that I may become even a greater trouble. +It is so hard to adopt the attitude which you suggest when one feels the +intolerable situation which exists in that country." + +"But we are on the highroad now to great reforms," she reminded him. +"Another decade of years, and the people whom you worship will surely be +lifting their heads." + +He smiled as she looked across at him with a puzzled air. + +"It is strange," she remarked, "that you, too, have the appearance of a +man dissatisfied with himself. I wonder why? Surely you must feel that +everything has gone your way since you came to England?" + +"I am not sure how I feel about it," he replied. "Think! I came with +different ideas. I came with a religion which admitted no compromises, +and I have accepted a compromise." + +"A wise and a sane one," she declared, almost passionately. "And +to-night--tell me, am I not right?--to-night there have been those who +have sought to upset it in your mind." + +"You are clairvoyant." + +"Not I, but it is so easy to see! It is the dream of Maxendorf's life +to bring England to the verge of a revolution by paralysing her +industries. Better for him, that, than any violent scheme of conquest. +If he can stop the engine that drives the wheels of the country, they +can come over in tourist steamers and tell us how to govern it better." + +"And if they did," he asked quickly, "isn't it possible that their rule +over the people might be better than the rule of this stubborn +generation?" + +She drew herself up. Her eyes flashed with anger. + +"Haven't you a single gleam of patriotism?" she demanded. + +He sighed. + +"I think that I have," he replied, "and yet, it lies at the back of my +thoughts, at the back of my heart. It is more like an artistic +inspiration, one of those things that lie among the pleasant impulses of +life. Right in the foreground I see the great groaning cycle of +humanity being flung from the everlasting wheels into the bottomless +abyss. I cannot take my eyes from the people, you see." + +She sat almost rigid for some brief space of time. A servant was +arranging plates in front of them, their glasses were refilled, the +music of a waltz stole in through the open door. Around them many other +people were sitting. An atmosphere of gaiety began gradually to +develop. Maraton watched his companion closely. Her eyes were full of +trouble, her sensitive mouth quivering a little. There was a straight +line across her forehead. Her fair hair was arranged in great coils, +without a single ornament. She wore no jewels at all save a single +string of pearls around her slim white neck. Maraton, as the moments +passed, was conscious of a curious weakening, a return of that same +thrill which the sound of her voice that first day--half imperious, half +gracious--had incited in him. He waved his hand towards the crowd of +those who supped around them. + +"Let us forget," he begged. "I, too, feel that I have more in my mind +to-night than my brain can cope with. Let us rest for a little time." + +Her face lightened. + +"We will," she assented gladly. "Only, do remember what my constant +prayer about you is. Things, you know, in some respects must go on as +they are, and the country needs its strongest sons. Mr. Foley would +like to bring you even closer to him. I know he is simply aching with +impatience to have you in the Cabinet. Don't do anything rash, Mr. +Maraton. Don't do anything which would make it impossible. There are +many beautiful theories in life which would be simply hateful failures +if one tried to bring them into practice. Try to remember that +experience goes for something. And now--finished! Tell me about +Sheffield? I read Selingman's marvellous article. One could almost see +the whole scene there. How I should love to hear you speak! Not in +Parliament--I don't mean that. I almost realise how impossible you find +that." + +"It is only a matter of earnestness," he replied, "and a certain +aptitude for forming phrases quickly. No one can feel deeply about +anything and not find themselves more or less eloquent when they come to +talk about it. By the bye, have you ever met Selingman?" + +She shook her head. + +"My uncle knew him. He tells me that he asked him here to-night. I +wish that he had come. And yet, I am not sure. Some of his writings I +have hated. He, too, is a theorist, isn't he? I wonder--" + +She paused, and looked expectant. + +"I often wonder," she went on, "is there nothing else in your life at +all except this passionate altruism? In your younger life, for +instance, weren't there ever any sports or occupations that you cared +for?" + +"Yes," he admitted slowly, "for some years I did a good many of the +usual things." + +"And now the desire for them has all gone," she asked, "haven't you any +personal hopes or dreams in connection with life? Isn't there anything +you look forward to or desire for yourself?" + +"I seem to have so little time. And yet, one has dreams--one always +must have dreams, you know." + +"Tell me about yours?" she insisted. + +He sat up abruptly. Her fingers fell upon his arm. + +"We will go and sit under my rose tree," she suggested. + +They moved back into the winter garden until they came to a seat at its +furthest extremity. A fountain was playing a few yards away, and +clusters of great pink roses were drooping down from some trellis-work +before them. + +"Here, at least," she continued, as she leaned back, "we will not be +tempted to talk seriously. Tell me about yourself? Do you never look +forward into the future? Have you no personal ambitions or hopes?" + +He looked steadily ahead of him. + +"I am only a very ordinary man," he replied. "Like every one else, +sometimes I look up to the clouds." + +"Tell me what you see there?" she begged. + +He was silent. The sound of voices now came to them like a distant +murmur, a background to the slow falling of the water into the fountain +basin. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he said, "it is not always possible to tell even one's +own self what the thoughts mean which come into one's brain." + +"You will not even try to tell me, then?" + +"I must not," he answered. + +She sat with her hands folded in front of her, her head drooped a +little. Maraton felt himself suddenly at war with a whole multitude of +emotions. Was it possible that this thing had come to him, that a woman +could take the great place in his life, a woman not of his kind, one who +could not even share the passion which was to have absorbed every +impulse of his existence to the end? She was of a different world. +Perhaps it had all been a mistake. Perhaps it would have been better +for him to have stayed outside, to have never crossed the little +borderland which led into the land of compromises. And all the time, +while his brain was at work, something stronger, more wonderful, was +throbbing in his heart. He moved restlessly in his place. Her ungloved +hand lay within a few inches of him. He suddenly caught it. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he whispered, "I feel like a traitor. I feel myself +moved to say things to you under false pretences. I ought not to have +come here." + +"What do you mean?" she demanded. "You can't mean--" + +Their eyes met. He read the truth unerringly. "No, not that," he +answered. "There is no one. What I feel is, at any rate, consecrate. +But I have no right. I am not sure, even at this moment, whether it is +not in my heart to take a step which you would look upon as the blackest +ingratitude. My life, Lady Elisabeth, holds issues in it far apart, and +it is vowed, dedicate." + +"You are going to break away?" she asked quietly. + +"I may," he admitted. "That is the truth. That is why I hesitated +about coming here to-night. And yet, I wanted to come. I wasn't sure +why. I know now--it was to see you." + +"Oh, don't be rash!" she begged. "Don't! I may talk to you now really +from my heart, mayn't I?" she went on, looking steadfastly into his +face. "Don't imagine that that great gulf exists. It doesn't. If you +break away, it will be a mistake. You want to feel your feet upon the +clouds. You don't know how much safer you will be if you keep them upon +the earth. You may bring incalculable suffering and misery upon the +very people whom you wish to benefit. You think that I am a woman, +perhaps, and I know little. Yes, but sometimes we who are outside see +much, and it is dangerous, you know, to act upon theories. I haven't +spoken a single selfish word, have I? I haven't tried to tell you how +much I should hate to lose you." + +He rose to his feet. + +"I am going away," he said hoarsely. "I must fight this thing out +alone. But--" + +He looked around. The words seemed to fail him. Their little corner of +the winter garden was still uninvaded. + +"But, Lady Elisabeth," he continued, "you know the thing which makes it +harder for me than ever. You know very well that if I decide to do what +must make me a stranger in this household, I shall do it at a personal +sacrifice which I never dreamed could exist." + +She swayed a little towards him. Her face was suddenly changed, +alluring; her eyes pleaded with him. + +"You mustn't go away," she whispered. "If you go now, you must come +back--do you bear?--you must come back!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +It was the eve of the reopening of Parliament. Maraton, who had been +absent from London--no one knew where--during the last six weeks, had +suddenly reappeared. Once more he had invited the committee of the +Labour Party to meet at his house. His invitation was accepted, but it +was obvious that this time their attitude towards the man who welcomed +them was one of declared and pronounced hostility. Graveling was there, +with sullen, evil face. He made no attempt to shake hands with Maraton, +and he sat at the table provided for them with folded arms and dour, +uncompromising aspect. Dale came late and he, too, greeted Maraton with +bluff unfriendliness. Borden's attitude was non-committal. Weavel +shook hands, but his frown and manner were portentous. Culvain, the +diplomat of the party, was quiet and reserved. David Ross alone had +never lost his attitude of unwavering fidelity. He sat at Maraton's +left hand, his head a little drooped, his eyes almost hidden beneath his +shaggy grey eyebrows, his lower lip protuberant. He had, somehow, the +air of a guarding dog, ready to spring into bitter words if his master +were touched. + +"Gentlemen," Maraton began, when at last they were all assembled, "I +have asked you, the committee who were appointed to meet me on my +arrival England, to meet me once more here on the eve of the reopening +of Parliament." + +There was a grim silence. No one spoke. Their general attitude was one +of suspicious waiting. + +"You all know," Maraton went on, "with what ideas I first came to +England. I found, however, that circumstances here were in many +respects different from anything I had imagined. You all know that I +modified my plans. I decided to adopt a middle course." + +"A seat in Parliament," Graveling muttered, "and a place at the Prime +Minister's dinner table." + +"For some reason or other," Maraton continued, unruffled, "my coming +into Parliament seemed obnoxious to Mr. Dale and most of you. I +decided in favour of that course, however, because the offer made me by +Mr. Foley was one which, in the interests of the people, I could not +refuse. Mr. Foley has done his best to keep to the terms of his +compact with me. Perhaps I ought to say that he has kept to it. The +successful termination of the Lancashire strike is due entirely to his +efforts. The prolongation of the Sheffield strike is in no way his +fault. The blind stupidity of the masters was too much even for him. +The position has developed very much as I feared it might. You cannot +make employers see reason by Act of Parliament. Mr. Foley kept his +word. He has been on the side of the men throughout this struggle. He +has used every atom of influence he possesses to compel the employers to +give in. Temporarily he has failed--only temporarily, mind, for a Bill +will be introduced into Parliament during this session which will very +much alter the position of the employers. But this partial failure has +convinced me of one thing. This is too law-abiding a country for +compromises. For the last six weeks I have been travelling on the +Continent. I have realised how splendidly Labour has emancipated itself +there compared to its slow progress in this country. From town to town +in northern Europe I passed, and found the great industries of the +various districts in the hands of a composite body of men, embracing the +boy learning the simplest machine and the financier in the office, every +man there working like a single part of one huge machine, each for the +profit of the whole. A genuine scheme of profit-sharing is there being +successfully carried out. It is owing to this visit, and the +convictions which have come to me from the same, that I have called you +together to-day." + +"You invited us," Peter Dale remarked deliberately, "and here we are. +As to what good's likely to come of our meeting, that's another matter. +There's no denying the fact that we've not been able to work together up +till now, and whether we shall in the future is by no means clear." + +"I am sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Dale," Maraton declared. "I only +hope that before you go you will have changed your mind." + +"Not in the least likely, that I can see," Peter Dale retorted. "For my +part, I can't reckon up what you want with us. You've gone into the +House on your own and you've chosen to sit in a place by yourself. +You've tried your best to manage things according to your own way of +thinking, without us. Now, all of a sudden, you invite us here. I +wonder whether this has anything to do with it." + +With some deliberation, Peter Dale produced from his pocket a letter, +which he smoothed out upon the table before him. He had the air of a +man who prepares a bombshell. Maraton stretched out his hand toward it. + +"Is that for me?" he asked. + +Peter Dale kept his fingers upon it. + +"Its contents concern you," he announced. "I'll read it, if you'll be +so good as to listen. Came as a bit of a shock to us, I must confess." + +"Anonymous?" Maraton murmured. + +"If its contents are untrue," Peter Dale said, "you will be able to +contradict them. With your kind permission, then. Listen, everybody: + +"'Dear Sir: + +"'The following facts concerning a recent addition to the ranks of your +Party should, I think, be of some interest to you. + +"'The proper name of Mr. Maraton is Mr. Maraton Lawes. + +"'Mr. Maraton Lawes and a younger brother were once the possessors of +the world-famous Lawes Oil Springs, and are now the principal +shareholders in the Lawes Oil Company. + +"'The person in question is a millionaire. + +"'A Socialist millionaire who conceals the fact of his wealth and keeps +his purse closed, is a person, I think, open to criticism. + +"'A sketch of Mr. Maraton Lawes' career will shortly appear in an +evening paper.'" + + +Maraton listened without change of countenance. All eyes were turned +upon him. + +"Well?" he enquired nonchalantly. + +"Is this true?" Peter Dale demanded. + +Maraton inclined his head. + +"The writer," he said, "a man named Beldeman, I am sure has been +singularly moderate in his statements. I have been expecting the +article to appear for some time." + +They were all of them apparently afflicted with a curious combination of +emotions. They were angry, and yet--with the exception of +Graveling--there was beneath their anger some evidence of that curious +respect for wealth prevalent amongst their order. They looked at +Maraton with a new interest. + +"A millionaire!" Peter Dale exclaimed impressively. "You admit it! +You--a Socialist--a people's man, as you've called yourself! And never +a word to one of us! Never a copper of your money to the Party! I +repeat it--not one copper have we seen!" + +The man's cheeks were flushed with anger, his brows lowered. Something +of his indignation was reflected in the faces of all of +them--momentarily a queer sort of cupidity seemed to have stolen into +their expressions. Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"Why should I subscribe to your Party funds?" he asked calmly. "Some of +you do good work, no doubt, and yet there is no such destroyer of good +work as money. Work, individual effort, unselfish enthusiasm, are the +torches which should light on your cause. Money would only serve the +purpose of a slow poison amongst you." + +"Prattle!" Abraham Weavel muttered. + +"Rot!" Peter Dale agreed. "Just another question, Mr. Maraton: Why +have you kept this secret from us?" + +"I will make a statement," Maraton replied coolly. "Perhaps it will save +needless questions. My money is derived from oil springs. I prospected +for them myself, and I have had to fight for them. It was in wilder +days than you know of here. I have a younger brother, or rather a +half-brother, whom I was sorry to see over here the other day, who is my +partner. My average profits are twenty-eight thousand pounds a year. +Ten thousand pounds goes to the support of a children's home in New +York; the remainder is distributed in other directions amongst +institutions for the rescue of children. Five thousand a year I keep +for myself." + +"Five thousand a year!" Peter Dale gasped indignantly. "Did you hear +that?" he added, turning to the others. + +"Four hundred a year and a hundred and fifty from subscriptions, and +that's every penny I have to bring up seven children upon," Weavel +declared with disgust. + +"And mine's less than that, and the subscriptions falling off," Borden +grunted. + +"What sort of a Socialist is a man with five thousand a year who keeps +his pockets tightly buttoned up, I should like to know?" Graveling +exclaimed angrily. + +Maraton smiled. + +"You have common sense, I am sure, all of you," he said. "In fact, no +one could possibly accuse you of being dreamers. Every effort of my +life will be devoted towards the promulgation of my beliefs, absolutely +without regard to my pecuniary position. I admit that the possession of +wealth is contrary to the principles of life which I should like to see +established. Still, until conditions alter, it would be even more +contrary to my principles to distribute my money in charity which I +abominate, or to weaken good causes by unwholesome and unearned +contributions to them. Shall we now proceed to the subject of our +discussion?" + +"What is it, anyway?" Peter Dale demanded gruffly. "Do you find that +after being so plaguey independent you need our help after all? Is that +what it is?" + +"I want no one's help," Maraton replied quietly. "I only want to give +you this earliest notice because, in your way, you do represent the +people--that it is my intention to revert to my first ideas. I have +arranged a tour in the potteries next week. I go straight on to +Newcastle, and from there to Glasgow. I intend to preach a universal +strike. I intend, if I can, to bring the shipbuilders, the coalminers, +the dockers, the railroad men, out on strike, while the Sheffield +trouble is as yet unsolved. Whatever may come of it, I intend that the +Government of this country shall realise how much their prosperity is +dependent upon the people's will." + +There was a little murmur. Peter Dale, who had filled his pipe, was +puffing away steadily. + +"Look here," he said slowly, "Newcastle's my job." + +"Is it?" Maraton replied. "There are a million and a quarter of miners +to be considered. You may be the representative of a few of them. I am +not sure that in this matter you represent their wishes, if you are for +peace. I am going to see." + +"As for the potteries," Mr. Borden declared, "a strike there's overdue, +and that's certain, but if all the others are going to strike at the +same time, why, what's the good of it? The Unions can't stand it." + +"We have tried striking piecemeal," Maraton pointed out. "It doesn't +seem to me that it's a success. What is called the Government here can +deal with one strike at a time. They've soldiers enough, and law +enough, for that. They haven't for a universal strike." + +Peter Dale struck the table with his clenched fist. His expression was +grim and his tone truculent. + +"What I say is this," he pronounced. "I'm dead against any interference +from outsiders. If I think a strike's good for my people, well, I'll +blow the whistle. If you're for Newcastle next week, Mr. Maraton, so +am I. If you're for preaching a strike, well, I'm for preaching against +it." + +"Hear, hear!" Graveling exclaimed. "I'm with you." + +Maraton smiled a little bitterly. + +"As you will, Mr. Dale," he replied. "But remember, you'll have to seek +another constituency next time you want to come into Parliament. Do be +reasonable," he went on. "Do you suppose the people will listen to you +preaching peace and contentment? They'll whip you out of the town." + +"It's the carpet-bagger that will have to go first!" Dale declared +vigorously. "There's no two ways about that." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Sometimes," he said, looking around at them, "I feel that it must be my +fault that there has never been any sympathy between us. Sometimes I am +sure that it is yours. Don't you ever look a little way beyond the +actual wants of your own constituents? Don't you ever peer over the +edge and realise that the real cause of the people is no local matter? +It is a great blow for their freedom, this which I mean to strike. I'd +like to have had you all with me. It's a huge responsibility for one." + +"It's revolution," Culvain muttered. "You may call that a +responsibility, indeed. Who's going to feed the people? Who's going to +keep them from pillaging and rioting?" + +"No one," Maraton replied quietly. "A revolution is inevitable. +Perhaps after that we may have to face the coming of a foreign enemy. +And yet, even with this contingency in view, I want you to ask +yourselves: What have the people to lose? Those who will suffer by +anything that could possibly happen, will be the wealthy. From those +who have not, nothing can be taken. What I prophesy is that in the next +phase of our history, a new era will dawn. Our industries will be +re-established upon different lines. The loss entailed by the +revolution, by the dislocating of all our industries, will fall upon the +people who are able and who deserve to pay for it." + +There was a moment's grim silence. Then David Ross suddenly lifted his +head. + +"It's a great blow!" he cried. "It's the hand of the Lord falling upon +the land, long overdue--too long overdue. The man's right! This people +have had a century to set their house in order. The warning has been in +their ears long enough. The thunder has muttered so long, it's time the +storm should break. Let ruin come, I say!" + +"You can talk any silly nonsense you like, David Ross," Dale declared +angrily, "but what I say is that we are listening to the most dangerous +stuff any man ever spouted. What's to become of us, I'd like to know, +with a revolution in the country?" + +"You would probably lose your jobs," Maraton answered calmly. "What +does it matter? There are others to follow you. The first whom the +people will turn upon will be those who have pulled down the pillars. +Our names will be hated by every one of them. What does it matter? It +is for their good." + +Peter Dale doubled up his fist and once more he smote the table before +him. + +"I am dead against you, Maraton," he announced. "Put that in your pipe +and smoke it. If you go to Newcastle, I go there to fight you. If you +go to any of the places in this country represented by us, our Member +will be there to fight. We are in Parliament to do our best for the +people we represent, bit by bit as we can. We are not there to plunge +the country into a revolution and run the risk of a foreign invasion. +There isn't one of us Englishmen here who'll agree with you or side with +you for one moment." + +"Hear, hear!" they all echoed. + +"Not one," Graveling interposed, "and for my part, I go further. I say +that the man who stands there and talks about the risk of a foreign +invasion like that, is no Englishman. I call him a traitor, and if the +thing comes he speaks of, may he be hung from the nearest lamp-post! +That's all I've got to say." + +Maraton opened his lips and closed them again. He looked slowly down +that wall of blank, unsympathetic faces and he merely shrugged his +shoulders. Words were wasted upon them. + +"Very well, gentlemen," he said, "let it be war. Perhaps we'd better +let this be the end of our deliberations." + +Graveling rose slowly to his feet. His face was filled with evil +things. He pointed to Maraton. + +"There's a word more to be spoken!" he exclaimed. "There's more behind +this scheme of Maraton's than he's willing to have us understand! It +looks to me and it sounds to me like a piece of dirty, underhand +business. I'll ask you a question, Maraton. Were you at the Ritz Hotel +one night about two months ago, with the ambassador of a foreign a +country?" + +"I was," Maraton admitted coolly. + +Graveling looked around with a little cry of triumph. + +"It's a plot, this; nothing more nor less than a plot!" he declared +vigorously. "What sort of an Englishman does he call himself, I wonder? +It's the foreigners that are at the bottom of the lot of it! They want +our trade, they'd be glad of our country. They've bribed this man +Maraton to get it without the trouble of fighting for it, even!" + +Maraton moved towards the door. Holding it open, he turned and faced +them. + +"Before I came," he said, "I hoped that you might be men. I find you +just the usual sort of pigmies. You call yourselves people's men! You +haven't mastered the elementary truths of your religion. What's +England, or France, or any other country in the world, by the side of +humanity? Be off! I'll go my own way. Go yours, and take your little +tinsel of jingoism with you. Whenever you want to fight me, I shall be +ready." + +"And fight you we shall," Peter Dale thundered, "mark you that! There's +limits, even to us. The Government of this country mayn't be all it +should be, but, after all, it's our English Government, and there is a +point at which every man has to support it. The law is the law, and so +you may find out, my friend!" + +They filed out. Maraton closed the door after them. He was alone. He +threw open the window to get rid of the odour of tobacco smoke which +still hung about. The echo of their raucous voices seemed still in the +air. These were the men who should have been his friends and +associates! These were the men to whom he had the right to look for +sympathy! They treated him like a dangerous lunatic. Their own small +interests, their own small careers were threatened, and they were up in +arms without a moment's hesitation. Not one of them had made the +slightest attempt to see the whole truth. The word "revolution" had +terrified them. The approach of a crisis had driven their thoughts into +one narrow focus: what would it mean for them? + +He resumed his seat. The empty chairs pushed back seemed, somehow or +other, allegorical. He was alone. The man for whose friendship he had +indeed felt some desire, the man who had opened his hands and heart to +him--Stephen Foley--would know him henceforth no more. He drew his +thoughts resolutely away from that side of his life, closed his ears to +the music which beat there, crushed down the fancies which sprang up so +easily if ever he relaxed his hold upon his will. He was lonely; for +the first time in his life, perhaps, intensely lonely. In all the +country there was scarcely a human being who would not soon look upon +him as a madman. What did one live for, after all? Just to continue +the dull, hopeless struggle--to fight without hope of reward, to fight +with oneself as well as with the world? + +The door was opened softly. Julia came in. Perhaps she guessed from +his attitude something of his trouble, for she moved at once to his +side. + +"They have gone?" she asked. + +"They have gone," he admitted. + +She sighed. + +"I shall not ask you anything," she said, "because I know. Pigs of +men--pigs with their noses to the ground! How can they lift their +heads! You could not make them understand!" + +"I scarcely tried," he confessed. "They have found out, for one thing, +that I am wealthy, a fact that does not concern them in the least, and +they accused me of it as though it were a crime. It was all so +hopeless. You cannot make men understand who have not the capacity +for understanding. You cannot make the blind see. They even reminded +me that they were Englishmen. They talked the usual rubbish about +conquest and foreign enemies and patriotism." + +"Clods!" she muttered. "But you?" + +She sat down beside him, her eyes full of light. She laid her hands +boldly upon his. + +"You will not let yourself be discouraged?" she I pleaded. "Remember +that even if you are alone in the world, you are right. You fight +without hope of reward, without hope of appreciation. You will be the +enemy of every one, and yet you know in your heart that you have the +truth. You know it, and I know it, and Aaron knows it, and David Ross +believes it. There are millions of others, if you could only find them, +who understand, too--men too great to come out from their studies and +talk claptrap to the mob. There are other people in the world who +understand, who will sympathise. What does it matter that you cannot +hear their spoken voices? And we--well, you know about us." + +Her voice was almost a caress, the loneliness in his heart was so +intense. + +"Oh, you know about us!" she continued. "I--oh, I am your slave! And +Aaron! We believe, we understand. There isn't anything in this world," +she went on, with a little sob, "there isn't anything I wouldn't gladly +do to help you! If only one could help!" + +He returned very gently the pressure of her burning fingers. She drew +his eyes towards hers, and he was startled to see in those few minutes +how beautiful she was. There was inspiration in her splendidly modelled +face--the high forehead, the eyes brilliantly clear, kindled now with +the light of enthusiasm and all the softer burning of her exquisite +sympathy. Her lips--full and red they seemed--were slightly parted. +She was breathing quickly, like one who has run a race. + +"Oh, dear master," she whispered--"let me call you that--don't, even +for a moment, be faint-hearted!" + +The door was suddenly thrown open. Selingman entered, an enormous bunch +of roses in his hand, a green hat on the back of his head. + +"Faint-hearted?" he exclaimed. "What a word! Who is faint-hearted? +Julia, I have brought you flowers. You would have to kiss rue for them +if he were not here. Don't glower at me. Every one kisses me. Great +ladies would if I asked them to. That's the best of being a genius. +Lord, what a wreck he looks! What's wrong with you, man? I know! I +met them at the corner of the street. There was the rat-faced fellow +with the red tie, and the miner--Labour Members, they call themselves. +I would like to see them with a spade! Have you been trying to get at +their brains, Maraton? What's that to make a man like you depressed? +Did you think they had any? Did you think you could draw a single spark +of fire out of dull pap like that? Bah!" + +Julia was moving quietly about the room, putting the flowers in water. +Aaron had slipped in and was seated before his desk. Selingman, his +broad face set suddenly into hard lines, plumped himself into the chair +which Peter Dale had occupied. + +"Man alive, lift your head--lift your head to the skies!" he ordered. +"You're the biggest man in this country. Will you treat the prick of a +pin like a mortal wound? What did you expect from them? Lord +Almighty! . . . I've packed my bag. I'm ready for the road. Two +hundred and fifty pounds a time from the _Daily Oracle_ for thumbnail +sketches of the Human Firebrand! Lord, what is any one depressed for in +this country! It's chock-full of humour. If I lived here long, I +should be fat." + +He looked downward at his figure with complacency. Julia laughed +softly. + +"Aren't you fat now?" she asked. + +"Immense," he confessed, "but it's nothing to what I could be. It +agrees with me," he went on. "You see, I have learnt the art of being +satisfied with myself. I know what I am. I am content. That is where +you, my friend Maraton, need to grow a little older. Oh, you are great +enough, great enough if you only knew it! Even Maxendorf admits that, +and he told me frankly he's disappointed in you. Don't sit there like a +dumb figure any longer. We are all coming with you, aren't we? I have +brought my car over from Belgium. It is a caravan. It will hold us +all--Aaron, too. Let us start; let us get out of this accursed city. +Where is the first move?" + +"We can't leave tonight," Maraton said. "I am addressing a meeting of +the representatives of the Amalgamated Railway Workers--that is, if +Peter Dale doesn't manage to stop it. He'll do his best." + +"He won't succeed," Aaron declared eagerly. "I saw Ernshaw two hours +ago. They're on to Peter Dale and his move. Do you know why Peter Dale +was late here this afternoon? He'd been to Downing Street. I heard. +Foley's lost you, but he's holding on to the Labour Party. He's pitting +the Labour Party against you in the country." Selingman laughed +heartily. + +"He's got it!" he exclaimed. "That's the scheme. I am all for a fight, +spoiling for it. Fighting and eating are the grandest things in the +world! What time is the meeting?" + +"Seven o'clock," Maraton replied. + +"Two hours we will give you," Selingman continued. "Nine o'clock, a +little restaurant I know in the West End, the four of us before we +start. We will do ourselves well." + +"Before I leave London," Maraton said, "I must see Maxendorf once more." + +Selingman stroked his face thoughtfully. + +"Your risk," he remarked. "Don't you let these chaps think you are +mixed up with Maxendorf." + +"I must see Maxendorf," Maraton insisted. "When I leave London +to-night, the die is cast. I have cut myself adrift from everything in +life. I shall make enemies with every class of society. There must be +one word more pass between Maxendorf and me before I hold up the torch." + +"He's got it," Selingman declared. "The trick is on him already. +Maxendorf he shall see. I will arrange a meeting somewhere--not at the +hotel. Miss Julia, write down this address. This is where we all meet +at nine. Half-past six now. I will take you round to your meeting, +Maraton. Do you want any papers?" + +"I want no papers," Maraton answered. "I speak to these men to-night as +I shall speak to them in the north. I take no papers from London with +me, no figures, nothing. It is just the things I see I want to tell +them." + +Selingman nodded. + +"You shall speak immortal words," he declared. "And I--I am the one man +in the world to transcribe them, to write in the background, to give +them colour and point. What giants we are, Maraton--you with your +stream of words, and I with my pen! Miss Julia," he added, "remember +that you are to be our inspiration as well as my secretary. Put on your +prettiest clothes to-night. It is our last holiday." + +She looked at him coldly. + +"I do not wear pretty clothes," she said. + +"Little fool!" he exclaimed. "Just because you've the big things +beating in your brain, you'd like to close your eyes to the fact that +your sex is the most wonderful thing on God's earth. That's the worst +of a woman. If ever she begins to think seriously, she does her hair in +a lump, changes silk for cotton, forgets her corsets, and leaves off +ribbons. Silly, silly child!" he went on, shaking his forefinger at +her. "I tell you women have done their greatest work in the world when +their brains have been covered with a pretty hat. . . . There she +goes, he growled," as she left the room. "Thinks I'm a flippant old +windbag, I know. And I'm not. Why don't you fall in love with her, +Maraton? It would be the making of you. Even a prophet needs +relaxation. She is yours, body and soul. One can tell it with every +sentence she speaks. And she is for the cause," he concluded with a +graver note in his tone. "She has found the fire somewhere. There were +women like her who held Robespierre's hand." + +Maraton glanced up. Selingman was leaning forward and his eyes were +fixed steadily upon his friend. + +"I was afraid, just a little afraid," he said slowly, "of the other +woman. I am glad she didn't count enough. Women are the very devil +sometimes when they come between us and the right thing!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Selingman came into the restaurant with a huge rose in his buttonhole +and another bunch of flowers--carnations this time--in his hands. He +made his way to the little round table where Julia and Aaron were +seated. + +"For you, Miss Julia," he declared, depositing them by her side. "Pin +them in the front of your frock. Drink wine to-night. Be gay. Let us +see pink, also, in your cheeks. It is a great evening, this. Maraton +is here?" + +"Not yet," Julia answered, smiling. + +Selingman sat down between them. He gave a lengthy order to a waiter; +then he turned abruptly to Julia. + +"He will keep to it, you think? This time you believe that he has made +up his mind?" + +"I do," she asserted vigorously. + +"What is he made of, that man?" Selingman continued, sipping the +Vermouth which he had just ordered. "He makes love to you, eh? Ach! +never mind your brother. For a man like Maraton, what does it matter? +You are of the right stuff. You would be proud." + +She looked steadily out of the restaurant. + +"I have been a worker," she said, "in a clothing factory since I was old +enough to stand up, and what little time I have had to spare, I have +spent in study, in trying to fit myself for the fight against those +things that you and I and all of us know of. There has been no +opportunity," she went on, more slowly, "I have not allowed myself--" + +"Ah, but it comes--it must come!" Selingman interrupted. "You have the +instinct--I am sure of that. Use your power a little. It will be for +his good. Every man who neglects his passions, weakens. You have the +gifts, Julia. I tell you that--I, Selingman, who know much about woman +and more about love and life. You've felt it, too, yourself sometimes +in the quiet hours. Haven't you lain in your bed with your eyes wide +open, and seen the ceiling roll away and the skies lean down, and felt +the thoughts come stealing into your brain, till all of a sudden you +found that your pulses were beating fast, and your heart was trembling, +and there was a sort of faint music in your blood and in your ears? Ah, +well, one knows! Suffer yourself to think of these hours when he is +with you sometimes. Don't make an ice maiden of yourself. You've done +good work. I know all about you. You could do more splendid work still +if you could weave that little spell which you and I know of." + +"It is too late," she sighed, "too late now, he has become used to me. I +am a machine--nothing more, to him. He does not even realise that I am +a woman." + +"What do you expect?" Aaron asked harshly. "Why should a man, with +great things in his brain, waste a moment in thinking of women?" + +Selingman's under-lip shot out, a queer little way he had of showing his +contempt. + +"Little man," he told Aaron, "you are a fanatic. You do not understand. +It is a quarter past nine and I am hungry. . . . Ah!" + +Maraton came in just then. He had the air of a man who has been through +a crisis, but his eyes were bright as though with triumph. Selingman +stood up and filled a glass with wine. + +"The first rivet has been driven home," he cried. "I see it." + +"It has indeed," Maraton answered. "For good or for evil, the railway +strike is decided upon. There is civil war waging now, I can tell you," +he added, as he sat down. "Graveling was there with a message. The +whole of the Labour Party is against the strike. The leaders of the men +are hot for it, and the men themselves. There wasn't a single one of +them who hesitated. Ernshaw, who represents the Union, told me that +there wasn't one of them who wouldn't get the sack if he dared to waver. +They know what the Government did in Lancashire and they know what they +tried to do at Sheffield. With the railway companies they'll have even +more influence." + +"Let us dine," Selingman insisted, welcoming the approach of the +waiters. "You see me, a man of forty-five, robust, the picture of +health. How do I do it? In this manner. When I dine, all cares go to +the winds. When I dine, I forget the hard places, I let my brain free of +its burden. I talk nonsense I love best with a pretty woman. To-night +we will talk with Miss Julia. You see, I have brought her more flowers. +She does not wear them, but they lie by her plate." + +"I have never worn an ornament in my life," Julia told him, "and I don't +think that any one has ever given me flowers." + +Selingman groaned. + +"Oh, what pitiful words!" he exclaimed. "If there is one thing sadder +in life than the slavery of the people, it is to find a woman who has +forgotten her sex. Almost you inspire me, young lady, with the desire +to take you by the hand and offer you my escort into the gentler ways. +If I were sure of success, not even my fair friends on the other side of +the Channel could keep me from your feet. Maraton, look away from the +walls. There's nothing beyond--just a world full of fancies. There's +some _Sole Otèro_ on your plate which is worth tasting, and there's +champagne in your glass. What matter if there are troubles outside? +That's good--there is music." + +He beckoned to the chef d'orchestre, engaged him for a few moments in +conversation, poured him out a glass of wine, and slipped something into +his hand. Then he recommenced his dinner with a chuckle of +satisfaction. + +"The little man can play," he declared. "He has it in his fingers. We +shall hear now the waltzes that I love. Ah, Miss Julia, why is this not +Paris! Why can I not get up and put my arm around your waist and whisper +in your ear as we float round and round in a waltz? Stupid questions! +I am too short to dance with you, for one thing, and much too fat, But +one loves to imagine. Listen." + +Maraton had already set down his knife and fork. The strains of the +waltz had come to him with a queer note of familiarity, a familiarity +which at first he found elusive. Then, as the movement progressed, he +remembered. Once more he was sitting in that distant corner of the +winter garden, hearing every now and then the faint sound of the +orchestra from the ballroom. It was the same waltz; alas, the same +music was warming his blood! And it was too late now. He had passed +into the other world. In his pocket lay the letter which he had +received that evening from Mr. Foley--a few dignified lines of bitter +disappointment. He was an outcast, one who might even soon be regarded +as the wrecker of his own country. And still the music grew and faded +and grew again. + +It was late before they had finished dinner, and Maraton took Selingman +to one side. + +"Remember," he insisted, "it is a bargain. Before I go north I must see +Maxendorf." + +Selingman nodded. + +"It is arranged," he said. "We both agreed that it was better for you +not to go to the hotel. Wait." + +He glanced at his watch and nodded. + +"Stay with your brother, little one," he directed, turning to Julia. +"We shall be away only a few moments. Come." + +"Where are we going?" Maraton enquired, as they passed through the +restaurant and ascended the stairs. + +Selingman placed his finger by the side of his nose. + +"A plan of mine," he whispered. "Maxendorf is here, in a private room." + +Selingman hurried his companion into a small private dining-room. +Maxendorf was sitting there alone, smoking a cigarette over the remnants +of an unpretentious feast. He welcomed them without a smile; his +aspect, indeed, as he waved his hand towards a chair, was almost +forbidding. + +"What do you want with me, Maraton?" he asked. "They tell me--Selingman +tells me--there was a word you had to say before you press the levers. +Say it, then, and remember that hereafter, the less communication +between you and me the better." + +Maraton ignored the chair. He stood a little way inside the room. +Through the partially opened window came the ceaseless roar of traffic +from the busy street below. + +"Maxendorf," he began, "there isn't much to be said. You +know--Selingman has told you--what my decision is. It took me some time +to make up my mind--only because I doubted one thing, and one thing +alone, in the world. That one thing, Maxendorf, was your good faith." + +Maxendorf lifted his eyes swiftly. + +"You doubted me," he repeated. + +"You're a people's man, I know," Maraton went one, "but here and there +one finds queer traits in your character. They say that you are also a +patriot and a schemer." + +"They say truly," Maxendorf admitted, "yet these things are by the way. +They occupy a little cell of life--no more. It is for the people I live +and breathe." + +"For the people of the world," Maraton persisted slowly--"for humanity? +Is there any difference in your mind, Maxendorf, between the people of +one country and the people of another?" + +Maxendorf never faltered. His long narrow face was turned steadily +towards Maraton. His eyebrows were drawn together. He spoke slowly and +with great distinctness. + +"I am for humanity," he declared. "Many of the people of my country I +have already freed. It is for the sufferers in other lands that I toil +in these days. If I am a patriot, it is because it is part of my +political outfit, and a political outfit is necessary to the man who +labours as I have laboured." + +"So be it, then," Maraton decided. "I accept your words. Within a +month from this time, the revolution will be here. This land will be +laid waste, the terror will be brewed. I fear nothing, Maxendorf, but +as one man to another I have come to tell you, before I start north, +that if in your heart there is a single grain of deceit, if ever it +shall be made clear to me that I have been made the cat's-paw of what +you have called patriotism, if the people of this country have left a +breath of life in my body, I shall dedicate it to a purpose at which you +can guess." + +"It is to threaten me that you have come?" Maxendorf asked quietly. + +"Don't put it like that," Maraton replied. "These are just the words +which you yourself cannot fail to understand. Neither you nor I hold +life so dearly that the thought of losing it need make us quaver. I am +here only to say this one word--to tell you that the heavens have never +opened more surely to let out the lightning, than will your death be a +charge upon me if you should vary even a hair's-breadth from our +contract. If Maxendorf, the people's man, hides himself for only a +moment in the shadow of Maxendorf the politician, he shall die!" + +Maxendorf held out his hand. + +"Death," he said scornfully, "is not the greatest ill with which you +could threaten me, but let it be so. Humanity shall be our motto--no +other." + +"You spar at one another," Selingman declared, "like a couple of +sophists. You are both men of the truth, you are both on your way to +the light. I give you my benediction. I watch over you--I, Selingman. +I am the witness of the joining of your hands. Unlock the gates without +fear, Maraton. Maxendorf will do his work." + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +About seven miles from London, Selingman gave the signal for the car to +pull up. They drew in by the side of the road and they all stood up in +their places. Before them, the red glow which hung over the city was +almost lurid; strange volumes of smoke were rising to the sky. + +"Rioters," Selingman muttered. + +Julia looked around with a little shiver. There were no trains running, +and a great many of the shops were closed. Some of the people lounging +about in the streets had the air of holiday makers. Little bands of men +were marching arm in arm, shouting. Occasionally one of them picked up +a stone and threw it through a shop window. They had not seen a +policeman for miles. + +"It is the beginning of the end," Maraton said slowly. "The only pity +is that one must see it at all." + +Julia pointed down the road. + +"What is that?" she asked. + +A long, grey-looking line was slowly unwinding itself into the level +road. It came into sight like a serpent. It reached as far as the eye +could see. From somewhere behind, they heard the sound of music. + +"Soldiers," Maraton replied--"marching, too." + +They moved the car over to the other side of the road. Presently a +mounted officer galloped on ahead and rode up to them. + +"Your name and address, please?" + +Maraton hesitated. + +"Why do you ask for it?" he demanded. + +"I am sorry to inform you that your car must be surrendered at once," +was the reply. "I hope we shall not inconvenience you very much but +those are the general orders. Every motor car is to be commandeered. +Sorry for the lady. Give me your name and address, please, at once, the +cost price of your car, and how long it has been in your possession?" + +Selingman gasped. + +"Is the country at war?" he asked. "We have come from South Wales +to-day. We heard nothing en route." + +"There are no newspapers being issued," the officer told them. "The +telegraph is abandoned to the Government, and also the telephone. Even +we have no idea what is happening. We are trying to run a few trains +through to the north but we have had a couple of hundred men killed +already. They are to start again the other side of Romford. In the +meantime, I am sorry, but I am bound to take possession of your car at +once." + +"My name is Selingman." + +The officer looked at him curiously. + +"Are you Henry Selingman," he enquired--"I mean the fellow who has been +writing about Maraton?" + +Selingman nodded. + +"Then I am afraid I can't say I do feel so sorry to inconvenience you," +the officer continued grimly. "Alight at once, if you please--all of +you." + +"But how are we to get into London?" Selingman protested. + +"Walk," the officer replied promptly. "Be thankful if you reach there +at all; and keep to the main streets, especially if the lady is going +with you. + +"Are there no police left?" Maraton demanded. + +"We drafted most of them away to the riot centres. Then the train +service ceased, too, and they haven't been able to come back. Now we +have had an alarm from somewhere--I don't know where and we've got +orders to push troops towards the east coast. If you'll take my advice, +Mr. Selingman," the officer concluded, "you'll keep your name to +yourself for a little time. People who've been associated in any way +with Maraton are not too popular just now around here." + +Some more officers had ridden up. Two were already in the car. Soon it +vanished in a cloud of dust on its way back. Julia, Selingman, Aaron +and Maraton were left in the road, along which the soldiers were still +marching. They started out to walk. Now and then a motor-car rattled +by, full of soldiers, but for the most part the streets were almost +empty. No one spoke to them or attempted to molest them in any way. As +they drew nearer London, however, the streets became more and more +crowded. Men in the middle of the road were addressing little knots of +listeners. There was a complete row of shops, the plate-glass windows +of which had been knocked in and the contents raided. They pushed +steadily onwards. Here and there, little groups of loiterers assumed a +threatening aspect. They came across the dead body of a man lying upon +the pavement. No one seemed to mind. Very few of the passers-by even +glanced at him. Selingman shivered. + +"Ghastly!" he muttered. "This reminds me of the first days of the +French troubles. How quiet the people keep! They are tired of robbing +for money. It is food they want. A sandwich just now would be a +dangerous possession." + +They reached Algate. There were still no trains running, and nearly all +the houses were tightly shuttered. + +"Six weeks!" Maraton murmured to himself as he looked around. "Could +any one believe that this might happen in six weeks!" + +"Why not?" Selingman demanded. "You stop the arteries of life when you +stop all communication from centre to centre. It's the most merciful +way, after all. Everything will be over the sooner." + +They passed down Threadneedle Street, a wilderness with boards nailed up +in front of the great bank windows. A little further on there was the +usual crowd of people, but they were all hanging about, uncertain what +to do. There was no Stock Exchange business being transacted, simply +because there were no buyers. At the Mansion House they found a few +'buses running, and managed to board one which was going westwards. It +set them down in New Oxford Street, not far from Russell Square. Here +there were denser crowds than ever. The entrance to the square itself +was almost blocked. + +"What's going on here?" Maraton asked a loiterer. + +They heard a loud, hoarse yell, repeated several times. The man pointed +with his finger. + +"They are round. Maraton's house," he answered. "They have broken in +all his windows. He's not there or they'd have had him out and flayed +him alive." + +A brief silence ensued. There seemed something ominous in this message, +delivered apparently from one typical of his class, a worker out of +work, a pipe in his mouth, a generally aimless air about his movements. + +"But forgive me," Selingman remarked, "I am a stranger in this country. +I have been told that Maraton is a friend of the people." + +The man nodded gloomily. + +"There's plenty that calls him so in other parts of the country," he +assented. "I belong to a Working Man's Club and what we can't see is +what's the bally use of a job like this? He's bitten off more than he +can chew--that's what Maraton's done. He's stopped the railways and the +coal, and even you can tell what that means, I suppose, sir? Pretty +well every factory in the country is shutting down or has shut down. +Well, supposing the Government make terms, which they say they can't. +The miners and railway men may get a bit more. What about all the rest +of us? We're more likely to get a bit less. Then what if the Germans +get over here? There's all sorts of rumours about this morning. They +say that three-quarters of the fleet is hung up for want of coal. . . . +My! Look there, they've fired his house! I wouldn't be in his shoes +for something! They say he's hiding up in Northumberland." + +The man passed on. Maraton was the first to speak. + +"Come," he said quietly, "there is nothing here to be discouraged at. +We knew very well that for the first few months--years, perhaps--this +thing had to be faced. We must get rooms somewhere. I have to meet the +railway men to-night. Young Ernshaw rode up from Derby on a motor-cycle +to make the appointment. As for you, Selingman," Maraton went on, as +they turned back towards New Oxford Street, "why do you stay here? Your +coming has been splendid. It has been a joy to have you near. But +between ourselves," he added, lowering his voice, "you know what mobs +are. Take my advice and get back home for a time. We shall meet +again." + +Selingman shook his head. + +"I helped to light the torch," he declared. "I'll see it burn for a +while. I was in Paris through the last riots--a dirty sight it was! +You'll pull through this. Maybe we're better apart for a time. But +we'll see one another housed first," he added. "I want to know where +you all are." + +There was no difficulty about shelter of a sort. The private hotels, +which were plentiful in the neighbourhood, were half empty, and supplied +rooms readily enough, although they were curiously apathetic about the +matter. At each one of them the charges for food were enormous. +Maraton divided a bundle of notes into half and made Aaron take one +portion. + +"Look after Julia," he directed, "and I think you'd better keep away +from me. A good many of them knew that you were my secretary. Look +after your sister. Keep quiet for a time. Wait." + +He tore a sheet of paper from his pocket-book, wrote a few lines upon it +and twisted it up. + +"You will find an address in New York there," he said. "If anything +happens to me, go over and present it in person." + +Aaron took it almost mechanically. His eyes scarcely for a second had +left his master's face. + +"Let me stay here," he begged, "if it's only an attic. There may be +work to be done. Let me stay, sir. My little bit of life is of no more +account to me than a snap of the fingers. Don't send me away. Julia's +a woman--they won't hurt her. She can go back to her old rooms. The +streets are quite orderly. Let me stay, sir!" + +"No one seemed to notice us come in," Julia pleaded. "Let me stay, too. +You heard what the porter said--we could choose what rooms we liked. It +is safer in this part of London than in the East End, and you know," she +added, looking at him steadily, "that if there is trouble to come, I +have no fear." + +Maraton hesitated. Perhaps they were as well where they were, under +shelter. He nodded. + +"Very well," he agreed. "There seems to be no one to show us about. We +will go and select rooms." + +In the hall they passed a man in the livery of the hotel. Maraton +enquired the way to the telephone, but he only shook his head. + +"Telephone isn't working, sir," he announced, "not to private +subscribers, at any rate. They haven't answered a call for two days." + +"Are any meals being served in the restaurant?" Maraton asked. + +The man shook his head. + +"Not regular meals, sir," he replied. "What food we've got is all +locked up. You can get something between eight and nine. We close the +hotel doors then." + +"They tell me I can select any room I like upstairs that isn't +occupied," Maraton remarked. + +The porter nodded. + +"Nearly all the servants have gone," he explained, "so they can't try to +run the hotel. Gone out to find food somewhere. They couldn't feed +them here." + +"Is there wine in the place?" Selingman asked. + +"Plenty," the man answered. + +"If needs be, then, we will carouse," Selingman declared. "First, a +wash. Then I will forage. Leave it to me to forage, you others. I +know the tricks. I shall not go away. I shall stay here with you." + +They selected rooms--Maraton and Selingman adjoining ones on the first +floor; the others higher up. Then Selingman departed on his expedition, +and Maraton sat down before the window in the sitting-room. He drew +aside the curtain and stared. They had been in the hotel rather less +than half an hour, but the autumn twilight had deepened rapidly. +Darkness had fallen upon the city--a strange, unredeemed darkness. The +street lamps were unlit. It was as though a black hand had been laid +upon the place. Only here and there the sky was reddened as though with +conflagration. Maraton's head sunk upon his arms. These, indeed, were +the days when he would need all his courage. He threw open the window. +There was a curious silence without. The roar of traffic had ceased +entirely. The only sound was the footfall of the people upon the +pavement. He looked down into the street, crowded with little knots of +men, one or two of them carrying torches. He watched them stream by. +It was the breaking up of the crowd which had gathered together to sack +and burn his house. + + +The door was softly opened and closed again. He turned half around. +Through the shadows he saw Julia's pale face as she came swiftly towards +him. With a sudden gesture she fell on her knees by his side. Her +fingers clasped him, she clung to his arm. + +"Ah, I knew that I should find you like this!" she cried. "Don't look +down into the street, don't look at those unlit places! Look up to the +skies. See, there is a star there already. Nothing up there--nothing +which really matters--is altered. This is only the destruction that +must come before the dawn. It was you yourself who prophesied it, you +yourself who saw it so clearly. Oh, don't be sad because you have +pulled down the pillars! It isn't so very long before the morning." + +He passed his arm around her and gripped her fingers tightly. So they +were sitting when, by and by, Selingman burst into the room. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Selingman was once more entirely his old self. He staggered into the +room with a tin of biscuits under one arm, and three bottles of hock +under the other, all of which he deposited noisily upon the round table +in the middle of the room. + +"I am the prince of caterers," he declared. "I surpass myself. Come +out of the shadows, you dreamer. There is work to be done, food to be +eaten, wine to be drunk." + +From his left-hand pocket he produced three candles, which he placed at +intervals along the mantelpiece and lit. Then for the first time he saw +Julia. + +"Ah," he cried, "our inspiration! Congratulate yourself, dear Miss +Julia. After all, you are going to dine or sup, or whatever meal you +may choose to call it. Behold!" + +From his other pocket he produced two great jars of potted meat, a jar +of jam, a handful of miscellaneous knives and forks, and a corkscrew. + +"I have found an intelligent person here," he confided to them. "He has +shown me the way to the wine cellar. Only the landlord and he are +permitted to fetch wine. They fear a raid. Niersteiner, of a +reasonable vintage." + +"I will fetch Aaron," Julia said as she left the room. + +"The girl worships you, and you're a beast to her," Selingman exclaimed, +his eyes fixed upon the door through which she had vanished. "A man, +indeed! A creature of wood and sawdust! Listen!" + +His hand flashed out, his hand which grasped still the corkscrew. + +"Listen, you man from the clouds," he continued. "I shall rob you of +her. I adore her. To-day she may think me merely fat and eccentric. +Don't rely upon that. I have the gift when I choose. I can tell fairy +tales, I can creep a little way into her mind and fill her brain with +delicate fancies, build images there and destroy them, play softly upon +the keynote of her emotions, until one day she will wake up and what +will have happened? She will be mine!" + +He banged the table with the bottle of wine he was holding. Then, with +great care and accuracy, he drew the cork. + +"Your health!" he cried, raising his glass. "Ah, no! I have not sipped +the wine. I change the toast. To Julia!" + +Maraton rose to his feet, and turned his back upon the gloomy darkness +which brooded over the city. He took the glass of wine which Selingman +was holding out and leaned towards him earnestly. + +"My friend," he said, "it seems strange to me that we speak of these +things at such an hour. Yet let me tell you something. I don't know +why I want to tell you, but I do. I am not, perhaps, quite what you +think me. Only, the night you and I went north together, the gates of +that world which you speak of so easily were closed behind me." + +"It was the other woman," Selingman exclaimed. + +"It was the other woman," Maraton echoed. + +Selingman set down the bottle upon the table. Two great tears rolled +down from his blue eyes. He held out both his hands and gripped +Maraton's. + +"My friend," he said, "now indeed I love you! We are twin souls. You, +too, are human as you are wonderful. You see what an old woman I am. +This sentiment--oh, it will be the end of me! But tell me--I must know. +It was because you went north that it was ended?" + +Maraton nodded slowly. + +"I chose the opposite camp," he answered. "What could I do?" + +"Nature," Selingman declared, brandishing a great silk handkerchief, "is +the queerest mistress who ever played pranks with us. Here, in the same +camp, dwells a divinity, and you--you must peer down into the lower +world. . . . Never mind, potted meat and hock are good. Julia," he +added, turning his head at the sound of the opening door, "to genius in +adversity all gentle familiarities are permitted. I grant myself the +privilege of your Christian name. Come and grace our feast. I have +found food and wine. I am your self-appointed caterer. There is no +butter, but that is simply one of those pleasant tests for us, a test of +will and fortitude. All my life until to-night I have loved butter. +From henceforth--until we can get it again--I detest it. Let us eat, +drink and be merry. Where is Aaron?" + +"He went out into the streets," Julia replied. "He will be back +presently." + +Aaron came in a few minutes later, struggling with the weight of the +parcels he was carrying. He laid them down upon the sideboard, and +turned towards Maraton with an air of triumph. + +"I've been there, sir," he announced. "I've got the letters, your +private dispatch box, and a lot of papers we needed. It's only the +outside walls of the house that are charred. The fire was put out +almost at once. And I've seen Ernshaw." + +Maraton's eyes were lit with pleasure. + +"You're a fine fellow, Aaron," he commended. + +"I've got my bicycle, too," Aaron continued. "I can get half over +London, if necessary, while you stay here." + +"Tell me about Ernshaw?" Maraton begged quickly. + +"He's loyal--they all are," Aaron cried. "Oh, you should hear him talk +about Peter Dale and Graveling, and that lot! They're spread up north +now, all of them, trying to kill the strike. And the men won't move +anywhere. His own miners wouldn't listen to Dale. Mr. Foley sent him +up to Newcastle in his motor-car. They played a garden hose on him and +burned an effigy of himself, dressed in old woman's clothes. Mr. +Foley's had the railway men to Downing Street twice, but they've never +wavered. Ernshaw is splendid. There are seven of them, and Ernshaw's +own words were that they've made up their minds that grass could grow in +the tracks and hell fires scorch up the land before they'd go back to +slavery. They're for you, sir, body and soul. They won't give in." + +"Thank God!" Maraton muttered. "What about the mob?" + +"Loafers and wastrels," Aaron exclaimed indignantly, "dirty parasites of +humanity, thieves; not an honest worker amongst them! They're the sort +who shouted themselves hoarse on Mafeking night and hid in their holes +when the war drums were calling. The authorities got a hundred police +from somewhere, and they crumbled away like rats running for their +holes. Ernshaw asks you not to go back to Russell Square because of the +difficulty of getting at you, but this was his message to you, sir, when +I told him of your arrival. He begged me to tell you that they were the +scum of the earth; that from Newcastle to the Thames the men who stand +idle to-day wait in faith and trust for your word and yours only. He +will be here before long." + +Selingman nodded ponderously. His mouth was very full, but he did not +delay his speech. + +"You have brought a splendid message, young man," he pronounced. "Sit +down and eat with us. Exercise your imagination but a little and you +will indeed believe that you have been bidden to a feast of Lucullus. +Has any one, I wonder, ever appreciated the marvellous and yet subtle +sympathy which can exist between potted meat and biscuits--especially +when washed down with hock? Join us, my young friend Aaron. Abandon +yourself with us to the pleasure of the table. We will discuss any +subject upon the earth--except butter! Miss Julia, do you know where I +shall go when I leave here? No? I go to seek chocolates and flowers +for you." + +She laughed gaily. + +"Chocolates and flowers," she repeated, "at ten o'clock at night! And +for me, too!" + +"And why not for you?" Selingman demanded, almost indignantly. "You are +like all enthusiasts of your sex. You are too intense, you concentrate +too much. You have lived in a cold and austere atmosphere. You have +waited a long time for the hand which is to lead you into the sunshine." + +She laughed at him once more, yet perhaps this time a little wistfully. + +"Very well," she promised, "I will reform. I will eat all the +chocolates you can bring me, and I will sleep with your flowers at my +bedside. There! Am I improving?" + +Selingman rose to his feet. He drained his glass of wine and lit one of +his long black cigars by the flame of the candle. + +"Dear Julia," he said, "you have spoken. I start on the quest of my +life." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +Selingman had scarcely left the place when Ernshaw arrived, piloted into +the room by Aaron, who had been waiting for him below. Maraton and he +gripped hands heartily. During the first few days of the campaign they +had been constant companions. + +"At least," he declared, as he looked into Maraton's face, "whatever the +world may think of the justice of their cause, no one will ever any +longer deny the might of the people." + +"None but fools ever did deny it," Maraton answered. + +"How are they in the north?" Ernshaw asked. + +"United and confident," Maraton assured him. "Up there I don't think +they realise the position so much as here. In Nottingham and Leicester, +people are leading their usual daily lives. It was only as we neared +London that one began to understand." + +"London is paralysed with fear," Ernshaw asserted, "perhaps with reason. +The Government are working the telephones and telegraph to a very small +extent. The army engineers are doing the best they can with the East +Coast railways." + +"What about Dale and his friends?" + +Ernshaw's dark, sallow face was lit with triumph. + +"They are flustered to death like a lot of rabbits in the middle of a +cornfield, with the reapers at work'!" he exclaimed. "Heckled and +terrified to' death! Cecil was at them the other night. 'Are you not,' +he cried, 'the representatives of the people?' Wilmott was in the +House--one of us--treasurer for the Amalgamated Society, and while Dale +was hesitating, he sprang up. 'Before God, no!' he answered. 'There +isn't a Labour Member in this House who stands for more than the +constituency he represents, or is here for more than the salary he +draws. The cause of the people is in safer hands.' Then they called for +you. There have been questions about your whereabouts every day. They +wanted to impeach you for high treason. Through all the storm, Foley is +the only man who has kept quiet. He sent for me. I referred him to +you." + +"The time for conferences is past," Maraton said firmly. + +"We know it," Ernshaw replied. "What's the good of them? A sop for the +men, a pat on the back for their leaders, a buttering Press, and a +public who cares only how much or how little they are inconvenienced. +We have had enough of that. My men must wake into a new life, or sleep +for ever." + +"What is the foreign news?" Maraton asked. + +"All uncertain. The air is full of rumours. Several Atlantic liners +are late, and reports have come by wireless of a number of strange +cruisers off Queenstown. Personally, I don't think that anything +definite has been done. The moment to strike isn't yet. The Admiralty +have been working like slaves to get coal to their fleet." + +"You came alone?" Maraton enquired. + +Ernshaw nodded. + +"I came alone because the seven of us are as men with one heart. We are +with you into hell!" + +"And the men," Maraton continued,--"I wonder how many of them realise +what they may have to go through." + +"You stirred something up in them," Ernshaw said slowly, "something they +have never felt before. You made them feel that they have the right of +nature to live a dignified life, and to enjoy a certain share of the +profits of their labour, not as a grudgingly given wage but as a +law-established right. There's a feeling born in them that's new--it's +done them good already. I never heard so little grumbling at the pay. +I think it's in their heart that they're fighting for a principle this +time, and not for an extra coin dragged from the unwilling pockets of +men who have no human right to be the janitors of what their labour +produces. They've got the proper feeling at last, sir. You've touched +something which is as near the religious sense as anything a man can +feel who has no call that way. It's something that will last, too! +Their womenkind have laid hold of it. When they start life again, they +mean to start on a different plane." + +"How are the accounts lasting out?" Maraton asked. + +Ernshaw produced some books from his pocket and they sat down at the +table. + +"We're not so badly off for money," he declared. "It's the purchasing +power of it that's making things difficult. I have spread the people +out as much as I can. It's the best chance, but next week will be a +black one." + +They pored over the figures for a time. Outside, the streets were +almost as silent as death. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and they +both looked up hastily. Selingman stood there, but Selingman +transformed. All the colour seemed to have left his cheeks; his eyes +were burning with a steely fire. He closed the door behind him and he +shivered where he stood. Maraton sprang to his feet. + +"What, in God's name, has happened, man?" he cried. "Quick!" + +Selingman came a little further into the room. He raised his hands +above his head; his voice was thick with horror. + +"I have betrayed you!" he moaned. "I have betrayed the people!" + +He stood there, still trembling. Maraton poured him out wine, but he +swept it away. + +"No more of those things for me!" he continued. "Listen to my tale. If +there is a God, may he hear me! By every line I have written, by every +world of fancy into which I have been led, by every particle of what +nations have called my genius, I swear that I speak the truth!" + +"I believe you," Maraton said. "Go on. Tell me quickly." + +"I trusted Maxendorf," Selingman proceeded, his voice shaking, "trusted +and loved him as a brother. I have been his tool and his dupe!" + +Maraton felt himself suddenly at the edge of the world. He leaned over +and looked into the abyss called hell. For a moment he shivered; then +he set his teeth. + +"Go on," he repeated. + +"Maxendorf and I have spoken many times of the future of this country. +The dream which he outlined for you, he has spoken of to me with +glittering eyes, with heaving chest, with trembling voice. It was his +scheme that I should take you to him. You, too, believed as I did. +To-night I visited him. I stepped in upon the one weak moment of his +life. He needed a confidant. He was bursting with joy and triumph. He +showed me his heart; he showed me the great and terrible hatred which +burns there for England and everything English. The people's man, he +calls himself! He is for the people of his own country and his own +country only! You and I have been the tools of his crafty schemes. +This country, if he possesses it, he will occupy as a conqueror. He +will set his heel upon it. He will demand the greatest indemnity of all +times. And every penny of it will flow into his beloved land. We +thought that the dawn had come, we poor, miserable and deluded victims +of his craft. We are dooming the people of this country to generations +of slavery!" + +Maraton for a moment sat quite still. When he spoke, his tone was +singularly matter-of-fact. + +"Where is Maxendorf?" he asked. + +"Still at the hotel. The Embassy was not ready, and he has made +excuses. He is more his own master there." + +Maraton turned to Ernshaw. + +"Ernshaw," he begged, "wait here for me. Wait." + +He took up his hat and left the room. Selingman stood almost as though +he were praying. + +"Now," he muttered, "is the time for the strong man!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +Into the salon of Maxendorf's suite at the Ritz Hotel, freed for a +moment from its constant stream of callers, came suddenly, without +announcement--from a place of hiding, indeed--Maraton. He stepped into +the room swiftly and closed the door. Maxendorf was standing with his +back to his visitor, bending over a map. + +"Who's that?" he asked, without looking up "You, Franz? You, Beldeman?" + +There was no reply. Maxendorf straightened his gaunt figure and turned +around. He stood there motionless, the palm of one hand covering the +map at which he had been gazing, the lamplight shining on his gaunt, +strangely freckled face. + +"You!" he muttered. + +Maraton remained still speechless. Maxendorf stretched out his hand for +the telephone, but before he could grasp it, his hand was struck into +the air. He wasted no time asking useless questions. His visitor's +face was enough. + +"What have you to gain by this?" he demanded. "Even if you could take +my life, it will alter nothing." + +Maraton caught him fiercely by the throat. Maxendorf, notwithstanding +his superior height, was powerless. He was forced slowly backwards +across the couch, on to the floor. Maraton knelt by his side. His +grasp was never for a second relaxed. + +"I leave you to-night," Maraton whispered, "with a gasp or two of life +in you, but remember this. If I fail to undo your work, as sure as I +live, I will keep my word. My hand shall find your throat again--your +throat, do you hear?--and shall hold you there, tighter and tighter, +until the life slips out of your body, just as it is almost slipping +now!" + +Maxendorf was unconscious. Maraton suddenly threw him away. Then he +left the room, rang for the lift and made his way once more out into the +street. Piccadilly was a shadowy wilderness. St. James's Street was +thronged with soldiers marching into the Park. Maraton pursued his way +steadily into Pall Mall and Downing Street. Even here there were very +few people, and the front of Mr. Foley's house was almost deserted, +save for one or two curious loiterers and a couple of policemen. +Maraton rang the bell and found no trouble in obtaining admittance. The +butler, however, shook his head when asked if Mr. Foley was at home. + +"Mr. Foley is at the War Office, sir," he announced. "We cannot tell +what time to expect him." + +"I shall wait," Maraton replied. "My business is of urgent importance." + +The butler made no difficulty. He recognised Maraton as a guest of the +house and he showed him into the smaller library, which was generally +used as a waiting-room for more important visitors. It was the room in +which Maraton had had his first conversation with Mr. Foley. He looked +around him with faint, half painful curiosity. If was like a place +which he had known well in some other life. It seemed impossible to +believe that he was the same man, or that this was the same room. Yet +it was barely four months ago! Too restless to sit still, he walked up +and down the apartment with quick, unsteady footsteps. Then suddenly +the door opened. Elisabeth appeared. She recognised Maraton and +started. She looked at him with a fixed, incredulous stare. + +"You?" she exclaimed. "You here? What do you want?" + +"Your uncle," he answered. "How long will he be?" + +She closed the door behind her with trembling fingers. Then she came +further into the room and confronted him. + +"Why are you here?" she demanded. "To gloat over your work?" + +"To undo it, if I can," he replied quickly,--"a part of it, at any +rate. I fell into a trap--Selingman and I. I've a way out, if there's +time. I want your uncle." + +"You mean it?" she begged feverishly, her face lightening. "Oh, don't +raise our hopes again just to disappoint us!" + +"I mean it," he reiterated. "I want your uncle. With his help, if he +has the courage, if he dare face the inevitable, I'll break the railway +strike to-night and the coal strike to-morrow." + +She sat down suddenly. She, too, had changed during the last few +months. Her face was thinner; there were lines under her eyes. She had +lost something of the fresh, delicate splendour of youth which had made +her seem so dazzling. + +"I can't believe that you are in earnest," she faltered. + +"There isn't any doubt about it," he assured her. "Send round and hurry +your uncle." + +She moved to the writing-table and wrote a few lines hastily. Then she +rang the bell and gave them to a servant. She was still without a +vestige of colour. + +"I can't dare to feel hopeful," she observed gloomily, when the door had +been closed and they were once more alone. "We trusted you before, we +believed that everything would be well. You were brutal to us both--to +me as well as to my uncle." + +"I made no promises," he reminded her. "I broke no ties. I was a +people's man; I still am. I took the course I thought best. I thought +I saw a way to real freedom." + +"It was Maxendorf!" she exclaimed, under her breath. + +He nodded. + +"Maxendorf was too clever for me," he confessed. "Perhaps, just at this +moment, he is a little sorry for it." + +"What do you mean?" she asked hastily. + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, he's alive--only just, though! I shook the life nearly out of him. +He knows that if we fail within these next twenty-four hours, your uncle +and I, I am going to take what's left. I promised him that." + +Her eyes glowed. + +"You are a strange person," she declared. "How did you come to see +the truth--to know that you had been misled by Maxendorf?" + +"It was Selingman who told me," he explained. "Selingman, too, was +deceived, but Selingman was nearer to him. He discovered the truth and +he came to me. It was a matter of two hours ago. I made my way first +to Maxendorf. I remembered my promise. I waited about in the corridors +outside his room until I saw an opportunity. Then I slipped in and took +him by the throat. Oh, he's alive, but not very much alive to-night!" + +"Tell me about your wonderful journey north?" she begged. + +He shook his head. + +"Just at present it is like a nightmare," he replied. "We went from +place to place and I preached the new salvation. I told them to trust +in me and I would lead them to the light. I believed it. Though the way +I knew must be strewn with difficulties, though there were great risks +and much suffering, I believed it. I saw the dawn of the millennium. I +made them believe that I saw it. They placed their trust in me. I have +led them to the brink of God knows what!" + +"You have led them to the brink of war," she said gravely. "We wait for +its declaration every hour, my uncle and I. They know our plight. They +are waiting for the exactly correct minute." + +"They may wait a day too long," Maraton muttered. "For myself, I +believe that they have already waited a day too long. Maxendorf was too +certain. He never dreamed that I might learn the truth. Listen!" + +A car stopped outside. They heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, +the door was quickly opened. Mr. Foley stood there. He was looking +very grave and white, but his eyes flashed at the sight of Maraton. + +"You!" he exclaimed. + +He gave his coat and hat to the servant; then he closed the door behind +him. He remained standing--he offered no form of greeting to his +unexpected visitor. + +"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why have you come to me?" + +"To give you your chance," Maraton replied, with swift emphasis. "You +are the only statesman I know who would have courage to accept it. Dare +you?" + +Mr. Foley remained speechless. He stood perfectly still, with folded +arms. + +"This isn't an hour for recriminations," Maraton continued. "I have +played into Maxendorf's hands--I admit it. There's time to checkmate +him. I'll free every railroad in the country to-morrow, and the +coal-pits next day, with your help." + +"I have forced your delegates to come to me," Mr. Foley answered. "To +all my offers they have but one reply: they await your word; they are +not seeking for terms." + +"Accept mine," Maraton begged, "and I swear to you that they shall +consent. Mind, it isn't a small thing, but it's salvation, and it's +the only salvation." + +"Go on," Mr. Foley commanded. + +"Pledge your word," Maraton proceeded deliberately, "pledge me your word +that next Session you will nationalise the railways on the basis of +three per cent for capital, a minimum wage of two pounds ten, a maximum +salary of eight hundred pounds, contracts to be pro rata if profits are +not earned. Pledge me that, and the railway strike is over." + +"It's Socialism," Elisabeth gasped. + +"It's common sense," Mr. Foley declared. "I accept. What about the +coal?" + +"You don't need to ask me that," Maraton replied swiftly. "Our +coalfields are the blood and sinews of the country. They belong to the +Government more naturally even than the labour-made railways. Take +them. Pay your fair price and take them. Do away with the horde of +money-bloated parvenus, who fatten and decay on the immoral profits they +drag from Labour. We are at the parting of the ways. We wait for the +strong man. Raise your standard, and the battle is already won." + +"And you?" Mr. Foley muttered. + +"I am your man," Maraton answered. + +Mr. Foley held out his hand. + +"If you mean it," he said gravely, "we'll get through yet. But are you +sure about the others--Ernshaw and his Union men? We've tried all human +means, and Ernshaw is like a rock. Dale and Graveling and all the rest +have done what they could. Ernshaw remains outside. I thought that I +had won the Labour Party. It seems to me, when the trouble came, that +they represented nothing." + +"They don't," Maraton agreed, "but Ernshaw represents the people, and I +represent Ernshaw. He was with me only a little time ago. There won't +be a Labour Party any longer. It will be a National Party, and you will +make it." + +"I am an old man," Mr. Foley murmured slowly, but his eyes kindled as +he spoke. + +They both laughed at him. + +"Young enough to found a new Party," Maraton insisted, "young enough to +bring the country into safety once more." + +The atmosphere seemed heavily charged with emotion. Elisabeth's eyes +were shining. She held out her hands to Maraton, and he kept them +reverently in his. + +"To-night," he announced, "with Ernshaw's help I start for the north. +In a few hours we shall have freed the railway lines. I leave the Press +to you, Mr. Foley. I shall go on to the mines." + +"And I?" Lady Elisabeth asked. "What is my share? Is there nothing I +can do?" + +Their eyes met for one long moment. + +"When I return," he said quietly, "I will tell you." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +From town to town, travelling for the most part on the platform of an +engine, Maraton sped on his splendid mission. It was Ernshaw himself +who drove, with the help of an assistant, but as they passed from place +to place the veto was lifted. The men in some districts were a little +querulous, but at Maraton's coming they were subdued. It was peace, a +peace how splendid they were soon to know. By mid-day, trains laden +with coal were rushing to several of the Channel ports. Maraton found +his task with the miners more difficult, and yet in a way his triumph +here was still more complete. He travelled down the backbone of +England, preaching peace where war had reigned, promising great things +in the name of the new Government. Although he had been absent barely +forty-eight hours, it was a new London into which he travelled on his +return. The streets were crowded once more with taxicabs, the evening +papers were being sold, the shops were all open, the policemen were once +more in the streets. Selingman, who had scarcely once left Maraton's +side, gazed about him with wonder. + +"It is a miracle, this," he declared. "There is no aftermath." + +"The people are waiting," Maraton said. "We have given them serious +pledges. Their day is to come." + +"You believe that Foley will keep his word?" Selingman asked. + +"I know that he will," Maraton replied. "As soon as the Bills are +drafted, he will go to the country. It will be a new Party--the +National Party. Stay and see it, Selingman--a new era in the politics +of the world, a very wonderful era. The country is going to be governed +for the people that are worth while." + +"If one could but live long enough!" Selingman sighed. "All over the +universe it comes. Where was it one read of footsteps that sounded +amongst the hills like footsteps upon wool? In the night-watches you +can hear those footsteps. The world trembles with them." + +"And after all," Maraton continued, "the sun of the world's happiness is +made up of the happiness of units. Presently we shall have time to +think of those things." + +"It is true," Selingman said disconsolately. "I find myself rejoicing +in the good which is coming to humanity and forgetting personal sorrows. +There is that wonderful, that adorable secretary of your--Julia. What +should you say to me, my friend Maraton, if I were indeed to rob you of +her? For once I am in earnest." + +Maraton started for a moment. The idea at first was ludicrous. + +"I suppose," he admitted, "I should reconcile myself to the inevitable. +Times are going to be different. I dare say that Aaron will be the only +secretary I shall need. But will she go? Remember, she is a woman of +the people. I think that she will never settle down, even with your +splendid work to control. She is less a poet than a humanitarian." + +"What am I, man," Selingman retorted, striking himself on the chest, +"but a humanitarian? Listen to the wonderful proof--it is not a +secretary I require; it is a wife!" + +Maraton was staggered. + +"Have you told her?" + +"What is the use?" Selingman growled. "She is yours, body and soul. +You have but to lift up your finger, and she would follow you to the end +of the world. I don't idealize women, you know, Maraton, and virtue +isn't a fetish with me. But I know that girl. If you hold out your +hands, she is yours, but if you withhold them, she is the most virginal +creature that ever breathed." + +"She is a splendid character," Maraton said softly. + +"Why don't you marry her yourself?" Selingman asked abruptly. "How can +you look at her, hear her speak, watch her, without wanting to marry +her? What are you made of?" + +Maraton sighed. + +"I am one of the victims, I suppose, of that curious instinct of +selection. I care for some one else; I have cared for some one else +ever since the first night I set foot in England." + +"Then I'll get her," Selingman declared. "In time I'll get her." + +They all dined together at the little restaurant on the borders of Soho. +Selingman was the giver of the feast and his spirits were both wonderful +and infectious. The roar of London was recommencing. Newspapers were +being sold on the streets. The strange cruisers seemed mysteriously to +have disappeared from the Atlantic. The fleet, imprisoned no longer, +was on its way to the North Sea. There was none of the foolish, +over-exuberant rejoicing of bibulous jingoism, but a genuine, deep +spirit of thankfulness abroad. Men and women were glad but thoughtful. +There were new times to come, great promises had been made. There were +rumours everywhere of a new political Party. "We pause to-night," +Selingman declared, "at the end of the first chapter. Almost I am +tempted to linger in this wonderful country--at any rate until the +headlines of the next are in type. You go down to the House tonight?" +"At nine o'clock," Maraton replied, glancing at the clock. + +"Will they remember," Selingman continued thoughtfully, "that you were +the Samson who pulled down the pillars, or will they merely hail you as +the deliverer? Will they think of that ghostly ride of yours on the +locomotive, I wonder, when you tore screaming through the darkness, with +the risk of a buffer on the line at every mile; stepped from the engine, +grimy, with your breath sucked out of--you by the wind, and the roar of +the locomotive still throbbing in your ears--stepped out to deliver your +message to the waiting throngs? Magnificent! A subject worthy of me +and my prose! I shall write of it, Maraton. I shall sing the glory of +it in verse or script, when your fame as a politician of the moment has +passed. You will live because of the garland that I shall weave." + +Maraton sipped his wine thoughtfully. + +"But for your overweening humility, Selingman," he began-- + +Selingman struck the table with his fist. + +"It is a night for rejoicings, this," he thundered. "I will not have my +weaknesses exposed. Let us, for to-night, at any rate, see the best in +each other. Glance, for instance, at Miss Julia. Admire the exquisite +pink of my carnations which she has condescended to wear; see how well +they become her." + +"I feel like a flower shop," Julia laughed. + +"And you look like the spirit of the flowers herself," Selingman +declared, "the wonderful Power on the other side of the sun, who draws +them out of the ground and touches their petals with colour, shakes +perfume into their blossoms and makes this England of yours, in +springtime, like a beautiful, sweet-smelling carpet." + +"Don't listen to him, Julia," Maraton warned her. "It was only a month +ago that he told me that no civilised man should live in this country +because of the women and the beer." + +"A man changes," Selingman insisted fiercely. "Your beer I will never +drink, but Miss Julia knows that she hasn't in the world a slave so +abject as I." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I must go," he announced. "I have to talk with Mr. Foley for a few +minutes. You had better come with me, Aaron. Selingman will see Julia +back." + +They watched him depart. Julia sighed as he passed through the door. + +"I can read your thoughts," Selingman said quickly. "You are feeling, +are you not, that to-night his leaving us has in it something +allegorical. He was made for the storms of life, to fight in them and +rejoice in them, and Fate has taken him by the hand and is leading him +now towards the quieter places." + +"It is not his choice," Julia murmured. "It is destiny." + +"Can't you look a little way into the future?" Selingman continued, +peering through half-closed eyes into his wine glass. "He represents +the only possible link between the only possible political party of this +country and the people. He will win for them in twelve months what they +might have waited for through many weary years. He will sit in the high +places. History will speak well of him. I will wager you half a dozen +pairs of gloves that within a week the _Daily Oracle_ will call him the +modern Rienzi. And yet, with the end of the struggle, with the end of +the fierce fighting, comes something--what is it?--disappointment? We +have no right to be disappointed, and yet, somehow, one feels that it is +the cold and the storm and the wind which keep the best in us--the +fighting best--alive." + +Julia's eyes were soft, for a moment, with tears. She, too, was +following him a little way into the future. + +"They will make a politician of him," she sighed. "So much the better +for politics. But there is one thing which I do not think that he will +ever forget. So long as he lives he will be a people's man." + +Selingman became curiously silent. Soon he paid the bill. + +"Will you put me in a cab?" she asked him outside. He shook his head. + +"I shall ride home with you." + +"It is rather a long way," she reminded him. "I am down at my old rooms +again. The house in Russell Square is full of workmen, after the fire." +"It does not matter how far," he said simply. + +His fit of silence continued. When at last they arrived at their +destination, she held out her hand. Again he shook his head. + +"I am coming in," he announced. + +She hesitated. + +"My rooms are very tiny." + +"I am coming in," he repeated. + +He followed her up the stairs. Her little sitting-room was in darkness. +She struck a match and lit the lamp. She would have pulled down the +blind, but he checked her. + +"No," he objected, "let us stand and look down together upon this +wilderness. So!" + +They were high up and they looked upon a treeless waste--rows of houses, +tall factories, the line of the river beyond, the murky glow westwards. + +"Here I can talk to you," he said. "Here it is silent. Soon I go back +to my life and my life's work. You, Julia, must go with me." + +She drew a little away from him, speechless with a queer sort of +surprise, and a little indignant. He held her wrist firmly. + +"I am a man who has written much of love," he continued, "of love and +life and all the tangled skein of emotions which make of it a complex +thing. And yet so few of us know what love is, so few of us know what +companionship is, so few of us know the world in which those others +dwell. You have looked at me with your great eyes, Julia, and at first +you saw nothing but a fat, plain old man, with plenty of conceit and a +humour for idle speeches. And today you think a little differently, and +as the days go on you will think more differently still, for I am going +to take you with me, Julia, and I am going to keep you with me, and I am +going to keep the light in your eyes and the laughter at your lips, in +the only way that counts. You will sit with me in my study, you shall +see my work come and hear it grow. I shall take you into the world +where the music is born, and your eyes will be closed there, and you +will only know that there is another soul there who is your guide, and +in whom you trust, and for whom you have a strange feeling. That is how +love comes, Julia--the only sort of love which lasts. It isn't born in +this land, it doesn't even flourish in this universe. If you don't come +up in the clouds to find it, it isn't the sort that lasts. You are +going to find it with me, dear." + +She had begun to tremble a little, the tears were in her eyes. + +"Oh, I know!" he faltered, with a break in his own voice. "But you'll +leave your sorrows behind in my world." + + +It was midnight when Maraton left the House. He came out with Mr. +Foley, and they stood for a moment at the entrance. An electric coupé +rolled swiftly up. + +"You must come home with me for a minute or two, Maraton," Mr. Foley +urged. "It is on your way." + +The coupé, however, was already occupied. Elisabeth leaned out of the +window. She held the door open. + +"I am going to take Mr. Maraton back with me," she insisted. "The car +is there for you, uncle." + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Quite right," he assented. "Get in, Maraton. I shall be home before +you." + +Maraton obeyed, and they glided out of the Palace yard. + +"I was there all the time," Elisabeth told him quietly. "I heard +everything. I was so glad, so proud. Even your Labour Members had to +come and shake hands with you." + +"I don't think Mr. Dale liked it," he remarked, smiling. "They are not +bad fellows at heart, but they've got the poison in their systems which +seems, somehow or other, to become part of the equipment of the +politician--self-interest, over-egotism, contraction of interest. It +makes one almost afraid." + +She leaned a little towards him. + +"You will not fear anything," she whispered confidently. "To-night, as +I looked down, it seemed to me that as a looker-on I saw more, perhaps, +of the real significance of it all than you who were there. It is a new +force, you know, which has come into politics, a new Party. I suppose +historians will call to-night, the fusion of Parties which is going to +happen, an extraordinary triumph for Mr. Foley. Perhaps he deserves +it--in my heart I believe that he does--but not in the way they would +try to make out." + +"His heart is right," Maraton declared. "He has wide sympathies and +splendid understanding." + +"It is a new chapter which begins to-night," she repeated. "You will +have many disappointments to face, both of you." + +"But isn't it a glorious fight!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "A +great cause at one's back, a future filled with magnificent +possibilities! Lady Elisabeth," he went on, "you can't imagine what +this hour means. Sometimes I have had moments of horrible depression. +It is so easy to feel the sorrows of the people in one's heart, so easy +to stir them into a passionate apprehension of their position. And then +comes the dull, sickening doubt whether, after all, it had not been +better to leave them as they were. Of what use are words--that is what +I have felt so often. And now there has come the power to do great +things for them. Life couldn't hold anything more splendid." + +Her hand touched his. She had withdrawn her glove. + +"You will let me help?" she begged. + +He turned towards her then, and she saw the light in his face for which +she had longed. With a little cry her head sank upon his shoulder, and +his arms closed around her. + +"I am almost jealous of the people," she murmured. "Only I want you to +teach me to love them and feel for them as you do. I want to feel that +the same thing in our lives is bringing us always closer together." + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A People's Man, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PEOPLE'S MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 17272-8.txt or 17272-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/7/17272/ + +Produced by MRK + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/17272-8.zip b/17272-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe03d33 --- /dev/null +++ b/17272-8.zip diff --git a/17272.txt b/17272.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b6d494 --- /dev/null +++ b/17272.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11073 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A People's Man, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A People's Man + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: December 10, 2005 [EBook #17272] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PEOPLE'S MAN *** + + + + +Produced by MRK + + + + +A PEOPLE'S MAN + +By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + + + +CHAPTER I + +"Maraton has come! Maraton! Maraton is here!" + +Across Soho, threading his way with devilish ingenuity through mazes of +narrow streets, scattering with his hooter little groups of gibbering, +swarthy foreigners, Aaron Thurnbrein, bent double over his ancient +bicycle, sped on his way towards the Commercial Road and eastwards. +With narrow cheeks smeared with dust, yellow teeth showing behind his +parted lips, through which the muttered words came with uneven +vehemence, ragged clothes, a ragged handkerchief around his neck, a +greasy cap upon his head--this messenger, charged with great tidings, +proclaimed himself, by his visible existence, one of the submerged +clinging to his last spar, fighting still with hands which beat the air, +yet carrying the undaunted light of battle in his blazing eyes, +deep-sunken, almost cavernous, the last refuge, perhaps, of that ebbing +life. Drops of perspiration were upon his forehead, his breath came +hard and painfully. Before he had reached his destination, one could +almost hear the rattle in his throat. He even staggered as at last he +dropped from his bicycle and, wheeling it across a broad pavement, left +it reclining against a box of apples exposed in front of a small +greengrocer's shop. + +The neighbourhood was ugly and dirty, the shop was ugly and dirty. The +interior into which he passed was dark, odoriferous, bare of stock, +poverty-smitten. A woman, lean, hard-featured, with thin grey hair +disordered and unkempt, looked up quickly at his coming and as quickly +down again. Her face was perhaps too lifeless to express any emotion +whatsoever, but there might have been a shade of disappointment in the +swift withdrawal of her gaze. A customer would have been next door to a +miracle, but hope dies hard. + +"You!" she muttered. "What are you bothering about?" + +"I want David," Aaron Thurnbrein panted. "I have news! Is he behind?" + +The woman moved away to let him pass. + +"He is behind," she answered, in a dull, lifeless tone. "Since you took +him with you to Bermondsey, he does no work. What does it matter? We +starve a little sooner. Take him to another meeting, if you will. I'd +rather you taught him how to steal. There's rest in the prisons, at +least." + +Aaron Thurnbrein brushed past her, inattentive, unlistening. She was +not amongst those who counted. He pushed open an ill-fitting door, +whose broken glass top was stuffed with brown paper. The room within +was almost horrible in its meagreness. The floor was uncarpeted, the +wall unpapered. In a three-legged chair drawn up to the table, with +paper before him and a pencil in his hand, sat David Ross. He looked up +at the panting intruder, only to glower. + +"What do you want, boy?" he asked pettishly. "I am at work. I need +these figures. I am to speak to-night at Poplar." + +"Put them away!" Aaron Thurnbrein cried. "Soon you and I will be needed +no more. A greater than we have known is here--here in London!" + +The older man looked up, for a moment, as though puzzled. Then a light +broke suddenly across his face, a light which seemed somehow to become +reflected in the face of the starveling youth. + +"Maraton!" he almost shrieked. + +"Maraton!" the other echoed. "He is here in London!" + +The face of the older man twitched with excitement. + +"But they will arrest him!" + +"If they dared," Aaron Thurnbrein declared harshly, "a million of us +would tear him out of prison. But they will not. Maraton is too +clever. America has not even asked for extradition. For our sakes he +keeps within the law. He is here in London! He is stripped for the +fight!" + +David Ross rose heavily to his feet. One saw then that he was not +really old. Starvation and ill-health had branded him with premature +age. He was not thin but the flesh hung about him in folds. His cheeks +were puffy; his long, hairy eyebrows drooped down from his massive +forehead. There was the look about him of a strong man gone to seed. + +"They will be all around him like flies over a carcass!" he muttered. + +"Mr. Foley--Foley--the Prime Minister--sent for him directly he +arrived," Aaron Thurnbrein announced. "He is to see him to-night at his +own house in Downing Street. It makes no difference." + +"Who can tell?" the other remarked despondently. "The pages of history +are littered with the bodies of strong men who have opened their lips to +the poisoned spoon." + +Aaron Thurnbrein spat upon the floor. + +"There is but one Maraton," he cried fervently. "There has been but one +since the world was shaped. He is come, and the first step towards our +deliverance is at hand." + +The older man, whose trembling fingers still rested upon the sheets of +paper, looked at his visitor curiously. + +"You are a Jew," he muttered. "Why do you worship Maraton? He is not +of your race." + +The young man's gesture was almost sublime. + +"Jew or Christian--what does it matter?" he demanded. "I am a Jew. +What has my religion done for me? Nothing! I am a free man in my +thoughts. I am one of the oppressed. Men or women, Jews or Christians, +infidels or believers--what does it matter? We are those who have been +broken upon the wheel. Deliverance for us will come too late. We fight +for those who will follow. It is Maraton who points towards the light. +It is Maraton whose hand shall press the levers which shall set the +kingdoms rocking. I tell you that our own country, even, may bite the +dust--a conqueror's hand lay heavy upon her throat; and yet, no matter. +Through the valley of fire and blood and pestilence--one must pass +through these to the great white land." + +"Amen!" David Ross cried fervently. "The gift is upon you to-day, +Aaron. Amen!" + +The two stood together for a moment, speechless, carried away out of +themselves. Then the door was suddenly opened. The woman stood there, +sour and withered; behind her, a hard-featured man, official, +malevolent. + +"We are for the streets!" the woman exclaimed harshly. "He's got the +order." + +"Three pounds thirteen or out you go," the man announced, pushing his +way forward. "Here's the paper." + +David Ross looked at him as one awakened from a dream. + +"Evicted!" + +"And d--d well time, too!" the newcomer continued. "You've had all the +chance in the world. How do you expect to make a living, fiddling about +here all day with pencil and paper, and talking Socialist rot at night? +Leave that chair alone and be off, both of you." + +They glanced despairingly towards Aaron Thurnbrein. He thrust his hands +into his pockets and exposed them with a little helpless gesture. The +coins he produced were of copper. The official looked at them and +around the place with a grin of Contempt. + +"Cut it short," he ordered. "Clear out." + +"There's my bicycle," Aaron Thurnbrein said slowly. + +They all looked at him--the woman and the man with nervous anxiety, the +official with a flicker of interest Aaron Thurnbrein drew a little sigh. +The bicycle bad been earned by years of strenuous toil. It was almost a +necessity of his existence. + +"Aaron's bicycle," David Ross muttered. "No, no! That must not be. +Let us go to the streets." + +But the woman did not move. Already the young man had wheeled it into +the shop. + +"Take it," he insisted. "What does it matter? Maraton is here!" + +Away again, this time on foot, along the sun-baked pavements, through +courts and alleys into a narrow, busy street in the neighbourhood of +Shoreditch. He stopped at last before a factory and looked tentatively +up at the windows. Through the opened panes came the constant click of +sewing machines, the smell of cloth, the vision of many heads bent over +their work. He stood where he was for a time and watched. The place +was like a hive of industry. Row after row of girls were there, seated +side by side, round-shouldered, bending over their machines, looking +neither to the right nor to the left, struggling to keep up to time to +make sure of the wage which was life or death to them. It was nothing +to them that above the halo of smoke the sky was blue; or that away +beyond the murky horizon, the sun, which here in the narrow street +seemed to have drawn all life from the air, was shining on yellow +cornfields bending before the west wind. Here there was simply an +intolerable heat, a smell of fish and a smell of cloth. + +Aaron Thurnbrein crossed the street, entered the unimposing doorway and +knocked at the door which led into the busy but unassuming offices. A +small boy threw open a little glass window and looked at him doubtfully. + +"I don't know that you can see Miss Thurnbrein even for a minute," he +declared, in answer to Aaron's confident enquiry. "It's our busiest +time. What do you want?" + +"I am her brother," Aaron announced. "It is most important." + +The boy slipped from a worn stool and disappeared. Presently the door +of the little waiting-room was suddenly opened, and a girl entered. + +"Aaron!" she exclaimed. "Has anything happened?" + +Once more he raised his head, once more the light that flickered in his +face transformed him into some semblance of a virile man. + +"Maraton is here! Maraton has arrived!" + +The light flashed, too, for a moment in her face, only she, even before +it came, was beautiful. + +"At last!" she cried. "At last! Have you seen him, Aaron? Tell me +quickly, what is he like?" + +"Not yet," Aaron replied. "To-night they say that he goes first to +visit the Prime Minister. He will come to us afterwards." + +"It is great news," she murmured. "If only one could see him!" + +The office boy reappeared. + +"Guvnor says why aren't you at your work, Miss Thurnbrein," he remarked, +as he climbed on to his stool. "You won't get through before closing +time, as it is." + +She turned reluctantly away. There was something in her face from which +even Aaron could scarcely remove his eyes. + +"I must go," she declared. "We are busy here, and so many of the girls +are away--down with the heat, I suppose. Thank you for coming, Aaron." + +"I would like," he answered, "to walk the streets of London one by one, +and stand at the corners and shout to the passers-by that Maraton has +come. Only I wonder if they would understand. I wonder!" + +He passed out into the street and the girl returned to her work. After +a few yards he felt suddenly giddy. There was a little enclosure across +the road, called by courtesy a playground--a few benches, a dusty space, +and some swings. He threw himself into a corner of one of the benches +and closed his eyes. He was worn out, physically exhausted. Yet all +the time the sense of something wonderful kept him from collapse. +Maraton had come! + + + +CHAPTER II + +Westward, the late June twilight deepened into a violet and moonless +darkness. The lights in St. James's Park glittered like motionless +fireflies; a faint wind rustled amongst the drooping leaves of the +trees. Up here the atmosphere was different. It seemed a long way from +Shoreditch. + +Outside the principal of the official residences in Downing Street, +there was a tented passage-way and a strip of drugget across the +pavement. Within, the large reception rooms were crowded with men and +women. There was music, and many forms of entertainment were in +progress; the popping of champagne corks; the constant murmur of +cheerful conversation. The Prime Minister was giving a great political +reception, and men and women of every degree and almost every +nationality were talking and mingling together. The gathering was +necessarily not select, but it was composed of people who counted. The +Countess of Grenside, who was the Prime Minister's sister and the head +of his household, saw to that. + +They stood together at the head of the staircase, a couple curiously +unlike not only in appearance but in disposition and tastes. Lady +Grenside was tall and fair, almost florid in complexion, remarkably +well-preserved, with a splendid presence and figure. She had been one +of the beauties of her day, and even now, in the sixth year of her +widowhood, was accounted a remarkably handsome woman. Mr. Foley, her +brother, was also tall, but gaunt and thin, with a pronounced stoop. +His grey imperial gave him an almost foreign appearance. He had the +forehead of a philosopher but the mouth of a humourist. His eyes, +shrewd and penetrating--he wore no glasses although he was nearly sixty +years of age--were perhaps his best feature. + +"Tell me, my dear Stephen," she asked, as the tide of incoming guests +finally ceased and they found themselves at liberty, "why are you +looking so disturbed? It seems to me that every one has arrived who +ought to come, and judging by the noise they are making, every one is +thoroughly enjoying themselves. Why are people so noisy nowadays, I +wonder?" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"What an observant person you are! To tell you the truth, there was +just one guest whom I was particularly anxious to see here to-night. He +promised to come, but so far I am afraid that he has not arrived." + +"Not that awful man Maraton?" + +He nodded. + +"No use calling him names, Catharine," he continued grimly. "Maraton is +one of the most important problems we have to face within the next few +weeks. I suppose there is no chance of his having slipped in without +our having noticed him?" + +Lady Grenside shook her head. + +"I should imagine not. I am quite sure that I haven't shaken hands +to-night with any one who reminded me in the least of what this man must +be. Very likely Elisabeth will discover him if he is here. She has +just gone off on one of her tours of inspection." + +Mr. Foley shrugged his shoulders. He was, after all, a philosopher. + +"I am afraid Elisabeth won't get very far," he remarked. "Carton was in +her train, and Ellison and Aubrey weren't far behind. She is really +quite wonderful. I never in all my life saw any one look so beautiful +as she does to-night." + +Lady Grenside made a little grimace as she laid her fingers upon her +brother's arm and pointed towards an empty settee close at hand. + +"Beautiful, yes," she sighed, "but oh, so difficult!" + + +Almost at that moment, Elisabeth had paused on her way through the +furthest of the three crowded rooms--and Maraton, happening +simultaneously to glance in her direction, their eyes met. They were +both above the average height, so they looked at one another over the +heads of many people, and in both their faces was something of the same +expression--the faint interest born of a relieved monotony. The girl +deliberately turned towards him. He was an unknown guest and alone. +There were times when her duties came quite easily. + +"I am afraid that you are not amusing yourself," she remarked, with some +faint yet kindly note of condescension in her tone. + +"You are very kind," he answered, his eyebrows slightly lifted. "I +certainly am not. But then I did not come here to amuse myself." + +"Indeed? A sense of duty brought you, perhaps?" + +"A sense of duty, beyond a doubt," the man assented politely. + +She felt like passing on--but she also felt like staying, so she stayed. + +"Cannot I help you towards the further accomplishment of your duty, +then?" she enquired. + +He looked at her and the grim severity of his face was lightened by a +smile. + +"You could help me more easily to forget it," he replied. + +She opened her lips, hesitated and closed them again. Already she had +recognised the fact that this was not a man to be snubbed. Neither had +she, notwithstanding her momentary irritation, any real desire to do so. + +"You do not know many people here?" + +"I know no one," he confessed. + +"I am Elisabeth Landon," she told him. "Mr. Foley is my uncle. My +mother and I live with him and always help him to entertain." + +"Hence your interest in a lonely stranger," he remarked. "Please have +no qualms about me. I am always interested when I am permitted to watch +my fellow creatures, especially when the types are novel to me." + +She looked at him searchingly for a moment. As yet she had not +succeeded in placing him. His features were large but well-shaped, his +cheek-bones a little high, his forehead massive, his deep-set eyes +bright and marvellously penetrating. He had a mouth long and firm, with +a slightly humorous twist at the corners. His hair was black and +plentiful. He might have been of any age between thirty-five and forty. +His limbs and body were powerful; his head was set with the poise of an +emperor. His clothes were correct and well worn, he was entirely at his +ease. Yet Elisabeth, who was an observant person, looked at him and +wondered. He would have been more at home, she thought, out in the +storms of life than in her uncle's drawing-rooms. Yet what was he? He +lacked the trimness of the soldier; of the debonair smartness of the +modern fighting man there was no trace whatsoever in his speech or +appearance. The politicians who were likely to be present she knew. +What was there left? An explorer, perhaps, or a colonial. Her +curiosity became imperious. + +"You have not told me your name," she reminded him. + +"My name is Maraton," he replied, a little grimly. + +"You--Maraton!" + +There was a brief silence--not without a certain dramatic significance +to the girl who stood there with slightly parted lips. The smooth +serenity of her forehead was broken by a frown; her beautiful blue eyes +were troubled. She seemed somehow to have dilated, to have drawn +herself up. Her air of politeness, half gracious, half condescending, +had vanished. It was as though in spirit she were preparing for battle. + +"You seem to have heard of me," he remarked drily. + +"Who has not heard of you!" she answered in a low tone. "I am sorry. +You have made me break my word." + +"I?" + +She was recovering herself now. A certain icy aloofness seemed to have +crept into her manner. Her head was held at a different angle. Even +the words seemed to leave her lips differently. Her tone was one of +measured indignation. + +"Yes, you! When Mr. Foley told me that he had asked you to come here +to-night, I vowed that I would not speak to you." + +"A perfectly reasonable decision," he agreed, without the slightest +change of expression, "but am I really to be blamed for this unfortunate +incident? You cannot say that I thrust myself upon your notice." + +His eyebrows were ever so slightly uplifted. She was not absolutely +sure that there was not something very suggestive of amusement in his +deep-set eyes. She bit her lip. Naturally he was not a gentleman! + +"I thought that you were a neglected guest," she explained coldly. "I +do not understand how it is that you have managed to remain +undiscovered." + +He shook his head doubtfully. + +"I made my entrance with the others. I saw a very charming lady at the +head of the stairs--your mother, I believe--who gave me her fingers and +called me Mr. Martin. Your uncle shook hands with me, looking over my +head to welcome some one behind. I passed on with the rest. The fault +remains, beyond a doubt, with your majordomo and my uncommon name." + +"Since I have discovered you, then," she declared, "you had better let +me take you to my uncle. He has been looking everywhere for you for the +last hour. We will go this way." + +She laid the extreme tips of her fingers upon his coat sleeve. He +glanced down at them for a moment. Her reluctance was evident. + +"Perhaps," he suggested coolly, "we should make faster progress if I +were to follow you." + +She took no further notice of him for some time. Then very suddenly she +drew him to one side out of the throng, into an almost empty anteroom--a +dismal little apartment lined with shelves full of blue books and +Parliamentary records. + +"I am content to obey my guide," he remarked, "but why this abrupt +flight?" + +She hesitated. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him. Perhaps +some instinct told her that the truth was best. + +"Because Mr. Culvain was in that crowd," she told him. "Mr. Culvain +has been looking for you everywhere. It is only to see you that he came +here this evening. My uncle is anxious to talk with you first." + +"I am flattered," he murmured, smiling. + +"I think that you should be," she asserted. "Personally, I do not +understand my uncle's attitude." + +"With regard to me?" + +"With regard to you." + +"You think, perhaps, that I should not be permitted here at all as a +guest?" + +"I do think that," she replied, looking steadily into his eyes. "I +think more than that. I think that your place is in Sing Sing prison." + +The corners of his mouth twitched. His amusement maddened her; her eyes +flashed. Underneath her white satin gown her bosom was rising and +falling quickly. + +He became suddenly grave. + +"Do you take life seriously, Lady Elisabeth?" he asked. + +"Certainly," she answered firmly. "I do not think that human life is a +thing to be trifled with. I agree with the Times." + +"In what it said about me?" + +"Yes! + +"And what was that? It is neglectful of me, I know, but I never see the +Times." + +"It held you entirely responsible for the death of those poor men in +Chicago," she told him. "It named you as their murderer." + +"A very sensible paper, the Times," he agreed. "The responsibility was +entirely mine." + +She looked at him for a moment in horror. + +"You can dare to admit that here--to me?" + +"Why not?" he answered calmly. "So long as it is my conviction, why not +proclaim it? I love the truth. It is the one virtue which has never +been denied me." + +Her eyes flashed. She made no effort whatever to conceal her +detestation. + +"And they let you go--those Americans?" she cried. "I do not +understand!" + +"There are probably many other considerations in connection with the +affair which you do not understand," he observed. "However--they had +their opportunity. I walked the streets openly, I travelled to New York +openly, I took my steamer ticket to England under my own name. The +papers, I believe, chronicled every stage of my journey." + +"It was disgraceful!" she declared. "The people in office over there +are cowards." + +"Not at all," he objected. "They were very well advised. They acted +with shrewd common sense. America is no better prepared for a +revolution than England is." + +"Do you imagine," she demanded, her voice trembling, "that you will be +permitted to repeat in this country your American exploits?" + +Maraton smiled a little sadly. + +"Need we discuss these things, Lady Elisabeth?" + +"Yes, we need!" she replied promptly. "This is my one opportunity. You +and I will probably never exchange another word so long as we live. I +have read your book--every word of it. I have read it several times. +In that book you have shown just as much of yourself as you chose, and +no more. Although I have hated the idea that I might ever have to speak +to you, now that you are here, now that it has come to pass, I am going +to ask you a question." + +He sighed. + +"People ask me so many questions!" + +"Tell me this," she continued, without heeding his interruption. "Do +you, in your heart, believe that you are justified in going about the +world preaching your hateful doctrines, seeking out the toilers only to +fill them with discontent and to set them against their employers, +preaching everywhere bloodshed and anarchy, inflaming the minds of +people who in ordinary times are contented, even happy? You have made +yourself feared and hated in every country of the world. You have +brought America almost to the verge of revolution. And now, just when +England needs peace most, when affairs on the Continent are so +threatening and every one connected with the Government of the country +is passing through a time of the gravest anxiety, you intend, they say, +to start a campaign here. You say that you love the truth. Answer me +this question truthfully, then. Do you believe that you are justified?" + +He had listened to her at first with a slight, tolerant smile upon his +lips, a smile which faded gradually away. He was sombre, almost stern, +when she had finished. He seemed in some curious way to have assumed a +larger shape, to have become more imposing. His attitude had a strange +and indefinable influence upon her. + +She was suddenly conscious of her youth and inexperience--bitterly and +rebelliously conscious of them--before he had even opened his lips. Her +own words sounded crude and unconvincing. + +"I am not one of the flamboyant orators of the Socialist party, Lady +Elisabeth," he said, "nor am I one of those who are able to see much joy +or very much hopefulness in life under present conditions. For every +word I have spoken and every line I have written, I accept the full and +complete responsibility." + +"Those men who were murdered in Chicago, murdered at your instigation +because they tried to break the strike--what of them?" + +He looked at her as one might have looked at a child. + +"Their lives were a necessary sacrifice in a good cause," he declared. +"Does one think now of the sea of blood through which France once purged +herself? Believe me, young lady, there is nothing in the world more to +be avoided than this sentimental and exaggerated reverence for life. It +is born of a false ideal, artistically and actually. Life is a +sacrifice to be offered in a just cause when necessary. + +"I imagine that this is your uncle." + +Mr. Foley was standing upon the threshold of the room, his hand +outstretched, his thin, long face full of conviction. + +"My niece has succeeded in discovering you, then, Mr. Maraton," he +said. "I am glad." + +Maraton smiled as he shook hands. + +"I have certainly had the pleasure of making your niece's acquaintance," +he admitted. "We have had quite an interesting discussion." + +Elisabeth turned away without looking towards him. + +"I will leave Mr. Maraton to you, uncle," she said. "He will tell you +that I have been very candid indeed. We were coming face to face with +Mr. Culvain, so I brought him in here." + +She did not glance again in Maraton's direction, nor did she offer him +any form of farewell salutation. Mr. Foley frowned slightly as he +glanced after her. Maraton, too, watched her leave the room. She +paused for a moment on the threshold to gather up her train, a graceful +but at the same time imperious gesture. She left them without a +backward look. Mr. Foley turned quickly towards his companion and was +relieved at the expression which he found in his face. + +"My niece is a little earnest in her views," he remarked, "too much so, +I am afraid, for a practical politician. She is quite well-informed and +a great help to me at times." + +"I found her altogether charming," Maraton said quietly. "She has, too, +the unusual gift of honesty." + +Mr. Foley was once more a little uneasy. It was impossible for him to +forget Elisabeth's outspoken verdict upon this man and all his works. + +"The young are never tolerant," he murmured. + +"And quite rightly," Maraton observed. "There is nothing more to be +envied in youth than its magnificent certainty. It knows! . . . I +am flattered, Mr. Foley, that you should have received me in your house +to-night. Your niece's attitude towards me, even if a trifle crude, is, +I am afraid, the general one amongst your class in this country." + +"To be frank with you, I agree," Mr. Foley assented. "I, personally, +Mr. Maraton, am trying to be a dissenter. It is for that reason that I +begged you to come here to-night and discuss the matter with me before +you committed yourself to any definite plan of action in this country." + +"Your message was a surprise to me," Maraton admitted calmly. "At the +same time, it was a summons which I could not disregard. As you see, I +am here." + +Mr. Foley drew a key from his pocket and led the way across the room +towards a closed door. + +"I want to make sure that we are not disturbed. I am going to take you +through to my study, if I may." + +They passed into a small inner room, plainly but comfortably furnished. + +"My own den," Mr. Foley explained, closing the door behind him with an +air of relief. "Will you smoke, Mr. Maraton, or drink anything?" + +"Neither, thank you," Maraton answered. "I am here to listen. I am +curious to hear what there is that you can have to say to me." + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mr. Foley pointed to an easy-chair. Maraton, however, did not at once +respond to his gesture of invitation. He was standing, tense and +silent, with head upraised, listening. From the street outside came a +strange, rumbling sound. + +"You permit?" he asked, stepping to the window and drawing the curtain a +few inches on one side. "There is something familiar about that sound. +I heard it last in Chicago." + +Mr. Foley rose slowly from the easy-chair into which he had thrown +himself, and stood by his visitor's side. Outside, the pavements were +lined by policemen, standing like sentries about half-a-dozen yards +apart. The tented entrance to the house was guarded by a solid phalanx +of men in uniform. A mounted inspector was riding slowly up and down in +the middle of the road. At the entrance to the street, barely fifty +yards away, a moving mass of people, white-faced, almost spectral, were +passing slowly beneath the pale gas-lamps. + +"The people!" Maraton murmured, with a curious note in his tone, half of +reverence, half of pity. + +"The mob!" Mr. Foley echoed bitterly. "They brawl before the houses of +those who do their best to serve them. They bark always at our heels. +Perhaps to-night it is you whom they have come to honour. Your +bodyguard, eh, Mr. Maraton?" + +"If they have discovered that I am here, it is not unlikely," Maraton +admitted calmly. + +Mr. Foley dropped the curtain which he had taken from his companion's +fingers. Moving back into the room, he turned on more light. Then he +resumed his seat. + +"Mr. Maraton," he began, "we met only once before, I think. That was +four years ago this summer. Answer me honestly--do you see any change +in me?" + +Maraton leaned a little forward. His face showed some concern, as he +answered: + +"You are not in the best of health just now, I fear, Mr. Foley." + +"I am as well as I shall ever be," was the quiet reply. "What you see +in my face is just the record of these last four years, the outward +evidence of four years of ceaseless trouble and anxiety. I will not +call myself yet a broken man, but the time is not far off." + +Maraton remained silent. His attitude was still sympathetic, but he +seemed determined to carry out his role of listener. + +"If the political history of these four years is ever truthfully +written," Mr. Foley continued, "the world will be amazed at the calm +indifference of the people threatened day by day with national disaster. +We who have been behind the scenes have kept a stiff upper lip before +the world, but I tell you frankly, Mr. Maraton, that no Cabinet who +ever undertook the government of this country has gone through what we +have gone through. Three times we have been on the brink of war--twice +on our own account and once on account of those whom we are bound to +consider our allies. The other national disaster we have had to face, +you know of. Still, here we are safe up to to-night. There is nothing +in the whole world we need now so much as rest--just a few months' +freedom from anxiety. Until last week we had dared to hope for it. +Now, breathless still from our last escape, we are face to face suddenly +with all the possibilities of your coming." + +"You fear the people," Maraton remarked quietly. + +Mr. Foley's pale, worn face suddenly lit up. + +"Fear the people!" he repeated, with a note of passion in his tone. "I +fear the people for their own sake; I fear the ruin and destruction they +may, by ill-advised action, bring upon themselves and their country. +Mr. Maraton, grant, will you not, that I am a man of some experience? +Believe, I pray you, that I am honest. Let me assure you of this. If +the people be not wisely led now, the Empire which I and my Ministers +have striven so hard to keep intact, must fall. There are troubles +pressing upon us still from every side. If the people are wrongly +advised to-day, the British Empire must fall, even as those other great +dynasties of the past have fallen." + +Maraton turned once more to the window, raised the curtain, and gazed +out into the darkness. There was a little movement at the end of the +street. The police had driven back the crowd to allow a carriage to +pass through. A hoarse murmur of voices came floating into the room. +The people gave way slowly and unwillingly--still, they gave way. Law +and order, strenuous though the task of preserving them was becoming, +prevailed. + +"Mr. Foley," Maraton said, dropping the curtain and returning once more +to his place, "I am honoured by your confidence. You force me, however, +to remind you that you have spoken to me as a politician. I am not a +politician. The cause of the people is above politics." + +"I am for the people," Mr. Foley declared, with a sudden passion in his +tone. "It is their own fault, the blind prejudice of their ignorant +leaders, if they fail to recognise it." + +"For the people," Maraton repeated softly. + +"Haven't my Government done their best to prove it?" the Prime Minister +demanded, almost fiercely. "We have passed at least six measures which +a dozen years ago would have been reckoned rank Socialism. What we do +need to-day is a people's man in our Government. I admit our weakness. +I admit that with every desire to do the right thing, we may sometimes +err through lack of knowledge. Our great trouble is this; there is not +to-day a single man amongst the Labour Party, a single man who has come +into Parliament on the mandate of the people, whose assistance would be +of the slightest service to us. I make you an offer which you yourself +must consider a wonderful one. You come to this country as an enemy, +and I offer you my hand as a friend. I offer you not only a seat in +Parliament but a share in the counsels of my party. I ask you to teach +us how to legislate for the people of the future." + +Maraton remained for a moment silent. His face betrayed no exultation. +His tone, when at last he spoke, was almost sad. + +"Mr. Foley," he said, "if you are not a great man, you have in you, at +least, the elements of greatness. You have imagination. You know how +to meet a crisis. I only wish that what you suggest were possible. +Twenty years ago, perhaps, yes. To-day I fear that the time for any +legislation in which you would concur, is past." + +"What have you to hope for but legislation?" Mr. Foley asked. "What +else is there but civil war?" + +Maraton smiled a little grimly. + +"There is what in your heart you are fearing all the time," he replied. +"There is the slow paralysis of all your manufactures, the stoppage of +your railways, the dislocation of every industry and undertaking built +upon the slavery of the people. What about your British Empire then?" + +Mr. Foley regarded his visitor with quiet dignity. + +"I have understood that you were an Englishman, Mr. Maraton," he said. +"Am I to look upon you as a traitor?" + +"Not to the cause which is my one religion," Maraton retorted swiftly. +"Empires may come and go, but the people remain. What changes may +happen to this country before the great and final one, is a matter in +which I am not deeply concerned." + +The telephone bell upon the table between them rang. Mr. Foley frowned +slightly, as he raised the receiver to his ear. + +"You will forgive me?" he begged. "This is doubtless a matter of some +importance. It is not often that my secretary allows me to be disturbed +at this hour." + +Maraton wandered back to the window, raised the curtain and once more +looked out upon the scene which seemed to him that night so pregnant +with meaning. His mind remained fixed upon the symbolism of the +streets. He heard only the echoes of a somewhat prolonged exchange of +questions and answers. Finally, Mr. Foley replaced the receiver and +announced the conclusion of the conversation. When Maraton turned +round, it seemed to him that his host's face was grey. + +"You come like the stormy petrel," the latter remarked bitterly. "There +is bad news to-night from the north. We are threatened with militant +labour troubles all over the country." + +"It is the inevitable," Maraton declared. + +Mr. Foley struck the table with his fist. + +"I deny it!" he cried. "These troubles can and shall be stopped. +Legislation shall do it--amicable, if possible; brutal, if not. But the +man who is content to see his country ruined, see it presented, a +helpless prey, to our enemies for the mere trouble of landing upon our +shores,--that man is a traitor and deserves to be treated as such. Tell +me, on behalf of the people, Mr. Maraton, what is it that you want? +Name your terms?" + +Maraton shook his head doubtfully. + +"You are a brave man, Mr. Foley," he said, "but remember that you do +not stand alone. There are your fellow Ministers." + +"They are my men," Mr. Foley insisted. "Besides, there is the thunder +in the air. We cannot disregard it. We are not ostriches. Better to +meet the trouble bravely than to be crushed by it." + +There was a tap at the door, and Lady Elisabeth appeared upon the +threshold. Maraton was conscious of realising for the first time that +this was the most beautiful woman whom he had ever seen in his life. +She avoided looking at him as she addressed her uncle. + +"Uncle," she said deprecatingly, "I am so sorry, but every one is asking +for you. You have been in here for nearly twenty minutes. There is a +rumour that you are ill." + +Mr. Foley rose to his feet reluctantly. + +"I will come," he promised. + +She closed the door and departed silently. At no time had she glanced +towards or taken any notice of Maraton. + +"We discuss the fate of an empire," Mr. Foley sighed, "and necessity +demands that I must return to my guests! This conversation between us +must be finished. You are a reasonable man; you cannot deny the right +of an enemy to demand your terms before you declare war?" + +Maraton, too, had risen to his feet. He had turned slightly and his +eyes were fixed upon the door through which Elisabeth had passed. For a +moment or two he seemed deep in thought. The immobility of his features +was at last disturbed. His eyes were wonderfully bright, his lips were +a little parted. + +"On Saturday," Mr. Foley continued, "we leave for our country home. +For two days we shall be alone. It is not far away--an hour by rail. +Will you come, Mr. Maraton?" + +Maraton withdrew his eyes from the door. "It seems a little useless," +he said quietly. "Will you give me until to-morrow to think it over?" + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Maraton made his way from Downing Street on foot, curiously enough +altogether escaping recognition from the crowds who were still hanging +about on the chance of catching a glimpse of him. He was somehow +conscious, as he turned northwards, of a peculiar sense of exhilaration, +a savour in life unexpected, not altogether analysable. As a rule, the +streets themselves supplied him with illimitable food for thought; the +passing multitudes, the ceaseless flow of the human stream, +justification absolute and most complete for the new faith of which he +was the prophet. For the cause of the people had only been recognised +during recent days as something entirely distinct from the Socialism and +Syndicalism which had been its precursors. It was Maraton himself who +had raised it to the level of a religion. + +To-night, however, there was a curious background to his thoughts. Some +part of his earlier life seemed stirred up in the man. The one +selfishness permitted to rank as a virtue in his sex was alive. His +heart had ceased to throb with the loiterers, the flotsam and jetsam of +the gutters. For the moment he was cast loose from the absorbed and +serious side of his career. A curious wave of sentiment had enveloped +him, a wave of sentiment unanalysable and as yet impersonal; he walked +as a man in a dream. For the first time he had seen and recognised the +imperishable thing in a woman's face. + +He reached at last one of the large, somewhat gloomy squares in the +district between St. Pancras and New Oxford street, and paused before +one of the most remote houses situated at the extreme northeast corner. +He opened the front door with a latch-key and passed across a large but +simply furnished hall into his study. He entered a little abstractedly, +and it was not until he had closed the door behind him that he realised +the presence of another person in the room. At his entrance she had +risen to her feet. + +"At last!" she exclaimed. "At last you have come!" + +There was a silence, prolonged, curious, in a sense thrilling. A girl +of wonderful appearance had risen to her feet and was looking eagerly +towards him. She was wearing the plain black dress of a working woman, +whose clumsy folds inadequately concealed a figure of singular beauty +and strength. Her cheeks were colourless; her eyes large and deep, and +of a soft shade of grey, filled just now with the half wondering, half +worshipping expression of a pilgrim who has reached the Mecca of her +desires. Her hair--her shabby hat lay upon the table--was dark and +glossy. Her arms were a little outstretched. Her lips, unusually +scarlet against the pallor of her face, were parted. Her whole attitude +was one of quivering eagerness. Maraton stood and looked at her in +wonder. The little cloud of sentiment in which he had been moving, +perhaps, made him more than ever receptive to the impressions which she +seemed to create. Both the girl herself and her pose were splendidly +allegorical. She stood there for the great things of life. + +"I would not go away," she cried softly. "They forbade me to stay, but +I came back. I am Julia Thurnbrein. I have waited so long." + +Maraton stepped towards her and took her hands. + +"I am glad," he said. "It is fitting that you should be one of the +first to welcome me. You have done a great work, Julia Thurnbrein." + +"And you," she murmured passionately, still clasping his hands, "you a +far greater one! Ever since I understood, I have longed for this +meeting. It is you who will become the world's deliverer." + +Maraton led her gently back to the chair in which she had been sitting. + +"Now we must talk," he declared. "Sit opposite to me there." + +He struck a match and lit the lamp of a little coffee machine which +stood upon the table. She sprang eagerly to her feet. + +"Let me, please," she begged. "I understand those things. Please let +me make the coffee." + +He laughed and, going to the cabinet, brought another of the old blue +china cups and saucers. With very deft fingers she manipulated the +machine. Presently, when her task was finished, she sat back in her +chair, her coffee cup in her hand, her great eyes fixed upon him. She +had the air of a person entirely content. + +"So you are Julia Thurnbrein." + +"And you," she replied, still with that note of suppressed yet +passionate reverence in her tone, "are Maraton." + +He smiled. + +"The women workers of the world owe you a great deal," he said. + +"But it is so little that one can do," she answered, quivering with +pleasure at his words. "One needs inspiration, direction. Now that you +have come, it will be different; it will be wonderful!" + +She leaned towards him, and once more Maraton was conscious of the +splendid mobility of her trembling body. She was a revelation to him--a +modern Joan of Arc. + +"Remember that I am no magician," he warned her. + +"Ah, but your very presence alters everything!" she cried. "It makes +everything possible--everything. My brother, too, is mad with +excitement. He hoped that you might have been at the Clarion Hall +to-night, before you went to Downing Street. You have seen Mr. Foley +and talked with him?" + +"I have come straight from there," he told her. "Foley is a shrewd man. +He sees the writing upon the wall. He is afraid." + +She looked at him and laughed. + +"They will try to buy you," she remarked scornfully. "They will try to +deal with you as they did with Blake and others like him--you--Maraton! +Oh, I wonder if England knows what it means, your coming!--if she really +feels the breaking dawn!" + +"Tell me about yourself?" Maraton asked, a little abruptly--"your work? +I know you only by name, remember--your articles in the reviews and your +evidence before the Woman Labour Commission. + +"I am a tailoress," she replied. "It is horrible work, but I have the +good fortune to be quick. I can make a living--there are many who +cannot." + +He was leaning back in his chair, his head supported by his hand, his +eyes fixed curiously upon her. Her pallor was not wholly the pallor of +ill-health. In her beautiful eyes shone the fire of life. She laughed +at him softly and held out her hands for his inspection. They were +shapely enough, but her finger-tips were scotched and pricked. + +"Here are the hall-marks of my trade. Others who work by my side have +fallen away. It is of their sufferings I have written. I myself am +physically very strong. It is the average person who counts." + +He looked at her thoughtfully. + +"You have written and worked a great deal for your age. Are you still +in employment?" + +"Of course! I left off at seven this evening. I have nothing else in +my life," she added simply, "but my work, our work, the breaking of +these vile bonds. I need no pleasures. I have never thought of any." + +Her eyes suddenly dropped before his. A confusion of thought seemed to +have seized upon her. Maraton, too, conscious of the nature of his +imaginings, although innocent of any personal application, was not +wholly free from embarrassment. + +"Perhaps you will think," he observed, "that I am asking too many +personal questions for a new acquaintance, but, after all, I must know +you, must I not? We are fellow workers in a great cause. The small +things do not matter." + +She looked at him once more frankly. The blush had passed from her +cheeks, her eyes were untroubled. + +"I don't know what came over me," she confessed. "I was suddenly afraid +that you might misunderstand my coming to you like this, without +invitation, so late. Somehow, with you, it didn't seem to count." + +"It must not!" + +More at her ease now she glanced around the room and back at him. He +smiled. + +"Confess," he said, "that there are some things about me and my +surroundings which have surprised you?" + +She nodded. + +"Willingly. I was surprised at your house, at being received by a man +servant--at everything," she added, with a glance at his attire. "Yet +what does that matter? It is because I do not understand." + +The little lines about his eyes deepened. He laughed softly. + +"I only hope that the others will adopt your attitude. I hear that many +of them have very decided views about evening dress and small luxuries +of any description." + +"Graveling and Peter Dale--especially Dale--are terrible," she declared. +"Dale is very narrow, indeed. You must bear with them if they are +foolish at first. They are uncultured and rough. They do not quite +understand. Sometimes they do not see far enough. But to-morrow you +will meet them. You will be at the Clarion to-morrow?" + +"I am not sure," he answered thoughtfully. "I am thinking matters +over. To-morrow I shall meet the men of whom you have spoken, and a few +others whose names I have on my list, and consult with them. +Personally, I am not sure as to the wisdom of opening my lips until +after our meeting at Manchester." + +"Oh, don't say that!" she begged. "What we all need so much is +encouragement, inspiration. Our greatest danger is lethargy. There are +millions who stare into the darkness, who long for a single word of +hope. Their eyes are almost tired. Come and speak to us to-morrow as +you spoke to the men and women of Chicago." + +He smiled a little grimly. + +"You forget that this is England. Until the time comes, one must choose +one's words. It is just what would please our smug enemies best to have +me break their laws before I have been here long enough to become +dangerous." + +"You broke the laws of America," she protested eagerly. + +"I had a million men and women primed for battle at my back," he +reminded her. "The warrant was signed for my arrest, but no one dared +to serve it. All the same, I had to leave the country with some work +half finished." + +"It was a glorious commencement," she cried enthusiastically. + +"One must not forget, though," he sighed, "that England is different. +To attain the same ends here, one may have to use somewhat different +methods." + +For the moment, perhaps, she was stirred by some prophetic misgiving. +The hard common sense of his words fell like a cold douche upon the +furnace of her enthusiasms. She had imagined him a prophet, touched by +the great and unmistakable fire, ready to drive his chariot through all +the hosts of iniquity; irresistible, unassailable, cleaving his way +through the bending masses of their oppressors to the goal of their +desires. His words seemed to proclaim him a disciple of other methods. +There were to be compromises. His attire, his dwelling, this +luxuriously furnished room, so different from anything which she had +expected, proclaimed it. She herself held it part of the creed of her +life to be free from all ornaments, free from even the shadow of luxury. +Her throat was bare, her hair simply arranged, her fingers and wrists +innocent of even the simplest article of jewellery. He, on the other +hand, the Elijah of her dreams, appeared in the guise of a man of +fashion, wearing, as though he were used to them, the attire of the +hated class, obviously qualified by breeding and use to hold his place +amongst them. Was this indeed to be the disappointment of her life? +Then she remembered and her courage rose. After all, he was the Master. + +"I will go now," she said. "I am glad to have been the first to have +welcomed you." + +He held out his hands. Then for a moment they both listened and turned +towards the door. There was the sound of an angry voice--a visitor, +apparently trying to force his way in. Maraton strode towards the door +and opened it. A young man was in the hall, expostulating angrily with +a resolute man servant. His hat had rolled on to the floor, his face +was flushed with anger. The servant, on recognising his master, stepped +back at once. + +"The gentleman insisted upon forcing his way in, sir," he explained +softly. "I wished him to wait while I brought you his name." + +Maraton smiled and made a little gesture of dismissal. The young man +picked up his hat. He was still hot with anger. Maraton pointed to the +room on the threshold of which the girl was still standing. + +"If you wish to speak to me," he said, "I am quite at your service. +Only it is a little late for a visit, isn't it? And yours seems to be a +rather unceremonious way, of insisting upon it. Who are you?" + +The young man stood and stared at his questioner. He was wearing a blue +serge suit, obviously ready-made, thick boots, a doubtful collar, a +machine-knitted silk tie of vivid colour. He had curly fair hair, a +sharp face with narrow eyes, thick lips and an indifferent complexion. + +"Are you Maraton?" he demanded. + +"I am," Maraton admitted. "And you?" + +"I am Richard Graveling, M.P.," the young man announced, with a certain +emphasis on those last two letters,--"M.P. for Poplar East. We +expected you at the Clarion to-night." + +"I had other business," Maraton remarked calmly. + +The young man appeared a trifle disconcerted. + +"I don't see what business you can have here till we've talked things +out and laid our plans," he declared. "I am secretary of the committee +appointed to meet and confer with you. Peter Dale is chairman, of +course. There are five of us. We expected you 'round to-night. You +got our telegram at Liverpool?" + +"Certainly," Maraton admitted. "It did not, however, suit my plans to +accept your invitation. I had a message from Mr. Foley, begging me to +see him to-night. I have been to his house." + +The young man distinctly scowled. + +"So Foley's been getting at you, has he?" + +Maraton's face was inscrutable but there was, for a moment, a dangerous +flash in his eyes. + +"I had some conversation with him this evening. + +"What did he want?" Graveling asked bluntly. + +Maraton raised his eyebrows. He turned to the girl. + +"Do you know Mr. Graveling?" + +The young man scowled. Julia smiled but there was a shadow of trouble +in her face. + +"Naturally," she replied. "Mr. Graveling and I are fellow workers." + +"Yes, we are that," the young man declared pointedly, "that and a little +more, I hope. To tell you the truth, I followed Miss Thurnbrein here, +and I think she'd have done better to have asked for my escort--the +escort of the man she's going to marry--before she came here alone at +this time of night." Mr. Graveling's ill-humour was explained. He was +of the order of those to whom the ability to conceal their feelings is +not given, and he was obviously in a temper. Maraton's face remained +impassive. The girl, however, stood suddenly erect. There was a vivid +spot of colour in her cheeks. + +"You had better keep to the truth, Richard Graveling!" she cried +fearlessly. "I have never promised to marry you, or if I have, it was +under certain conditions. You had no right to follow me here." + +The young man opened his lips and closed them again. He was scarcely +capable of speech. The very intensity of his anger seemed to invest the +little scene with a peculiar significance. The girl had the air of one +who has proclaimed her freedom. The face of the man who glared at her +was distorted with unchained passions. In the background, Maraton stood +with tired but expressionless countenance, and the air of one who +listens to a quarrel between children, a quarrel in which he has no +concern. + +"It is not fair," Julia continued, "to discuss a purely personal matter +here. You can walk home with me if you care to, Richard Graveling, but +all that I have to say to you, I prefer to say here. I never promised +to marry you. You have always chosen to take it for granted, and I have +let you speak of it because I was indifferent, because I have never +chosen to think of such matters, because my thoughts have been wholly, +wholly dedicated to the greatest cause in the world. To-night you have +forced yourself upon me. You have done yourself harm, not good. You +have surprised the truth in my heart. It is clear to me that I--cannot +marry you; I never could. I shall not change. Now let us go back to +our work hand in hand, if you will, but that other matter is closed +between us forever." + +She turned to say farewell to Maraton, but Graveling interposed himself +between them. His voice shook and there were evil things in his +distorted face. + +"To-night, for the first time," he exclaimed hoarsely, "you speak in +this fashion! Before, even if you were indifferent, marriage at least +seemed possible to you. To-night you say that the truth has come to +you. You look at me with different eyes. You draw back. You begin to +feel, to understand. You are a woman to-night! Why? Answer me that! +Why? Why to-night? Why not before? Why is it that to-night you have +awakened? I will know! Look at me." + +She was taken unawares, assailed suddenly, not only by his words but by +those curious new sensations, her own, yet unfamiliar to her. It was +civil war. A part of herself was in league with her accuser. She felt +the blushes stain her cheeks. She looked imploringly at Maraton for +help. He smiled at her reassuringly, delightfully. + +"Children," he expostulated, "this is absurd! Off with you to your +homes. These are small matters of which you speak." + +His hands were courteously laid upon both of them. He led them to the +door and pointed eastwards through the darkness. + +"Think of the morning. Think of the human beings who wake in a few +hours, only to bend their bodies once more to the yoke. The other +things are but trifles." + +She looked back at him from the corner of the Square, a straight, +impassive figure in a little halo of soft light. There was a catch in +her heart. Her companion's words were surely spoken in some foreign +tongue. + +"We have got to have this out, Julia," he was saying. "If anybody or +anything has come between us, there's going to be trouble. If that's +the great Maraton, with his swagger evening clothes and big house, well, +he's not the man for our job, and I shan't mind being the first to tell +him so." + +She glanced at him, for a moment, almost in wonder. Was he indeed so +small, so insignificant? + +"There are many paths," she said softly, "which lead to the light. Ours +may be best suited to ourselves but it may not be the only one. It is +not for you or for me to judge." + +Richard Graveling talked on, doing his cause harm with every word he +uttered. Julia relapsed into silence; soon she did not even hear his +words. They rode for some distance on an omnibus through the city, now +shrouded and silent. At the corner of the street where she had her +humble lodgings, he left her. + +"Well, I have had my say," he declared. "Think it over. I'll meet you +out of work to-morrow, if I can. We shall have had a talk with Mr. +Maraton by that time!" + +She left him with a smile upon her lips. His absence seemed like an +immense, a wonderful relief. Once more her thoughts were free. + + + +CHAPTER V + +But were they free, after all, these thoughts of hers? + +Julia rose at daybreak and, fully dressed, stood watching the red light +eastwards staining the smoke-hung city. Her little room with its plain +deal furniture, its uncarpeted floor, was the perfection of neatness, +her bed already made, her little pots of flowers upon the window-sill, +jealously watered. In the still smaller sitting-room, visible through +the open door, she could hear the hissing of her kettle upon the little +spirit lamp. Her hat and gloves were already out. Everything was in +readiness for her early start. + +She had slept very much as usual, and had got up only a little earlier +than she was accustomed to. Yet there was a difference. Only so short +a time ago, the incidents of her own daily life, even the possibilities +connected with it, had seemed utterly insignificant, so little worthy of +notice. Morning and night her heart had been full of the sufferings of +those amongst whom she worked. The flagrant, hateful injustice of this +ill-arranged world had throbbed in her pulses, absorbed her interests, +had occupied the whole horizon of her life. To marry Richard Graveling +might sometime be advisable, in the interests of their joint labours. +And suddenly it had become impossible. It had become utterly +impossible! Why? + +The red light in the sky had faded, the sun was now fully risen. Julia +looked out of her window and was dimly conscious of the change. The +heart which had throbbed for the sorrows of others was to thrill now on +its own account. It was something mysterious which had happened to her, +something against which she was later on to fight passionately, which +was creeping like poison through her veins. With her splendid +womanhood, her intense consciousness of life, how was it possible for +her to escape? + +There was an impatient tap at the door and Aaron came in. She +recognised him with a little cry of surprise. He was paler than ever +and grim with his night's Vigil. The lines under his eyes were deeper, +his skin seemed sallower. He had the dishevelled look of one who is +still in his attire of the preceding day. + +"You have heard?" he exclaimed. "We stayed at the Clarion till three. +Maraton never even sent us a message. Yet they say that he is in +London. They even declare that he was at Downing Street last night." + +"I know that he was there," Julia said quietly. + +"You know? You? But they were all sure of it." + +He dashed his cap into a corner. + +"Maraton is our man," he continued passionately. "No one shall rob us +of him. He should have come to us. Downing Street--blast Downing +Street!" + +"There is no one in this world," she told him gently, "who will move +Maraton from his will. I know. I have seen him." + +He stared at her, hollow-eyed, amazed. + +"You? You have seen him?" + +She nodded. + +"I heard by accident of the house he had taken the house where he means +to live. I went there and I waited. Later, Richard Graveling came +there, too." + +The youth struck the table before him. His eyes were filled with tears. + +"All night I waited!" he cried. "I could not sit still. I could +scarcely breathe. Tell me what he is like, Julia? Tell me what he +looks like? Is he strong? Does he look strong enough for the work?" + +She smiled at him reassuringly. + +"Yes, he looks strong and he looks kind. For the rest--" + +"There is something! Tell me what it is--at once?" + +"Foolish! Well, he is unlike Richard Graveling and the others, unlike +us. Why not? He is cultivated, educated, well-dressed." + +The youth, for a moment, was aghast. + +"You don't mean--that he is a gentleman?" + +"Not in the sense you fear," she assured him. "Remember that his work +is more far-reaching than ours. It takes him everywhere; he must be fit +for everything. Sit down now, dear Aaron. You are tired. See, my +morning tea is ready, and there is bread and butter. You must eat and +drink. Maraton you will surely see later in the day. I do not think +that he will disappoint you." + +Aaron sat down at the table. He ate and drank ravenously. He was, in +fact, half starved but barely conscious of it. + +"He spoke of the great things?" + +Julia shook her head. She was busy cutting bread and butter. + +"Scarcely at all. What chance was there? And then Richard Graveling +came." + +"They were friends? They took to one another?" the young man asked +eagerly. + +She hesitated. + +"I am not sure about that. Graveling was in one of his tempers. He was +rude, and he said things to me which I felt obliged to contradict." + +"They did not quarrel?" + +She laughed softly. + +"Imagine Maraton quarrelling! I think that he is above such pettiness, +Aaron." + +"Graveling is a good fellow and a hard worker," Aaron declared. "The +one thing which he lacks is enthusiasm. He doesn't really feel. He +does his work well because it is his work, not because of what it leads +to." + +"You are right," Julia admitted. "He has no enthusiasm. That is why he +never moves people when he speaks. I must go soon, Aaron. Will you lie +down and rest for a time here?" + +"Rest!" He looked at her scornfully. "How can one rest! Tell me where +this house of his is? I shall go and wait outside. I must see him." + +She glanced at the clock, and paused for a moment to think. + +"Aaron," she decided, "I will be late for once. Come with me and I will +take you to him. He was kind to me last night. We will go together to +his house and wait till he is down. Then I will tell him how you have +longed for his coming, and perhaps--" + +"Perhaps what?" Aaron interrupted. "You can't escape from it! You have +promised. You shall take me! I am ready to go. Perhaps what?" + +"I was only thinking," she went on, "you find it, I know, impossible to +settle down to work anywhere. But with him, if he could find +something--" + +Aaron sprang to his feet. + +"I would work my fingers to the bone!" he cried. "It is a glorious +idea, Julia. I have to give up the collecting--my bicycle has gone. +Let us start." + +They went out together into the streets, thinly peopled, as yet, for it +was barely six o'clock. Julia would have loitered, but her brother +forced her always onward. She laughed as they arrived at the Square +where Maraton lived. Every house they passed was shuttered and silent. + +"How absurd we are!" she murmured. "He will not be up for hours. Very +likely even the servants will not be astir." + +"Servants!" + +Aaron repeated the word, frowning. She only smiled. + +"You mustn't be foolish, dear. Don't have prejudices. Remember that we +are walking along a very narrow way. We have climbed only a few steps +of the hill. He is more than half-way to the top. Things are different +with him. Don't judge; only wait." + +She rang the bell of the house a little timidly. The door was opened +without any delay by a man servant in sombre, every-day clothes. + +"We wish to see Mr. Maraton," Julia announced. "He is not up yet, of +course, but might we come in and wait?" + +"Mr. Maraton is in his study, madam," the man answered. + +He disappeared and beckoned them, a moment or so later, to follow him. +They were shown into a much smaller apartment at the rear of the house. +Maraton was sitting before a desk covered with papers, with a breakfast +tray by his side. He looked up at their entrance, but his face was +inexpressive. He did not even smile. The sunlight died out of Julia's +face, and her heart sank. + +"I am sorry," she began haltingly. "I ought not to have come again, I +know. But it is my brother. Night and day he has thought of nothing +else but your coming." + +Aaron seemed to have forgotten his timidity. He crossed the room and +stood before Maraton's desk. His face seemed to have caught some of the +freshness of the early morning. He was no longer the sallow, pinched +starveling. He was like a young prophet whose eyes are burning with +enthusiasm. + +"You have come to help us," he asserted. "You are Maraton!" + +"I have come to help you," Maraton replied. "I have come to do what I +can. It isn't an easy task in this country, you know, to do anything, +but I think in the end we shall succeed. If you are Julia Thurnbrein's +brother, you should know something of the work." + +"I am only one of the multitude," Aaron sighed. "I haven't the brains +to organise. I talk sometimes but I get too excited. There are +others--many others--who speak more convincingly, but no one feels more +than I feel, no one prays for the better times more fervently than I. It +isn't for myself--it isn't for ourselves, even; it's for the children, +it's for the next generation." + +Maraton held out his hand suddenly. + +"My young friend," he said, "you have spoken the words I like to hear. +Some of my helpers I have found, at times, selfish. They are satisfied +with the small things that lie close at hand, some material benefit +which really is of no account at all. That isn't the work for us to +engage in. Sit down. Sit down, Miss Julia. You have breakfasted?" + +"Before we left," Julia assured him. + +"Never mind, you shall breakfast again," Maraton declared. "It is a +good augury that the first words I have heard from one of ourselves have +been words such as your brother has spoken. To tell you the truth, I +came over here in fear and trembling. Some of your leaders have +frightened me a little." + +"You mean--" Aaron began. + +"That they don't hold their heads high enough. I am not for strikes +that finish with a shilling a week more for the men; or for Acts of +Parliament which dole out tardy charity. I am for the bigger things. +Last night I lay awake, thinking--your friend Richard Graveling set me +thinking. We must aim high. I am here for no man's individual good. I +am here to plan not pinpricks but destruction." + +The servant brought in more breakfast. They sat and talked, Maraton +asking many questions concerning the men whom he would meet later in the +day. Then he looked regretfully at the great pile of letters still +before him. + +"I shall need a secretary," he said slowly. + +Aaron sprang to his feet. + +"Take me," he begged. "I have been in a newspaper office. I am slow at +shorthand but I can type like lightning. I will work morning and night. +I want nothing but a little food if I may go about with you and hear you +speak. Oh, take me!" + +Maraton smiled. + +"You are engaged," he declared. "Go out and hire a typewriter and bring +it here in a cab. You can start at once, I hope?" + +"This minute," Aaron agreed, his voice breaking with excitement. + +Maraton passed him money and took them both to the door. + +"Tell me about to-night?" Julia asked. "Will you go to the Clarion? +Shall you speak?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"No. I have written to the men whom I am anxious to meet here, and +asked them to come to me. I should prefer not to speak at all until I +go to Manchester. I have plans, but I must not speak of them for the +moment." + +"I had hoped so to hear you speak to-night," she murmured, and her face +fell. + +They stood together at the door and looked out across the green +tree-tops towards the city. + +"The time has gone by for speeches," he said quietly. "Perhaps before +very long you may hear greater things than words." + +They hurried off--Julia to the factory, Aaron to a typewriting depot in +New Oxford Street. At the corner of the Square they parted. + +"Are you satisfied?" she asked. + +His face was all aglow. + +"Satisfied! Julia, you told me nothing! He is wonderful--splendid!" + +She climbed on to a 'bus with a little smile upon her lips. The long +day's work before her seemed like a holiday task. Then she laughed +softly as she found herself repeating her brother's fervid words: + +"Maraton has come!" + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Maraton spent three hours and a half that morning in conclave with the +committee appointed for his reception, and for that three hours and a +half he was profoundly bored. Every one had a good deal to say except +Richard Graveling, who sat at the end of the table with folded arms and +a scowl upon his face. The only other man who scarcely opened his lips +during the entire time, was Maraton himself. Peter Dale, Labour Member +for Newcastle, was the first to make a direct appeal. He was a +stalwart, grim-looking man, with heavy grey eyebrows and grey beard. He +had been a Member of Parliament for some years and was looked upon as +the practical leader of his party. + +"We've heard a lot of you, Mr. Maraton," he declared, "of your fine +fighting methods and of your gift of speech. We'll hear more of that, I +hope, at Manchester. We are, so to speak, strangers as yet, but there's +one thing I will say for you, and that is that you're a good listener. +You've heard all that we've got to say and you've scarcely made a +remark. You won't object to my saying that we're expecting something +from you in the way of initiative, not to say leadership?" + +Maraton glanced down the table. There were five men seated there, and, +a little apart from all of them, David Ross, who had refused to be +shaken off. Excepting him only, they were well-fed and substantial +looking men. Maraton had studied them carefully through half-closed +eyes during all the time of their meeting, and the more he had studied +them, the more disappointed he had become. There was not one of them +with the eyes of a dreamer. There was not one of them who appeared +capable of dealing with any subject save from his own absolutely +material and practical point of view. + +Maraton from the first had felt a seal laid upon his lips. Now, when +the time had come for him to speak, he did so with hesitation, almost +with reluctance. + +"As yet," he began, "there is very little for me to talk about. You +are, I understand, you five, a committee appointed by the Labour Party +to confer with me as to the best means of promulgating our beliefs. You +have each told me your views. You would each, apparently, like me to +devote myself to your particular district for the purpose of propagating +a strike which shall result in a trifling increase of wages." + +"And a coal strike, I say," Peter Dale interrupted, "is the logical +first course. We've been threatening it for two years and it's time we +brought it off. I can answer for the miners of the north country. We +have two hundred and seventy thousand pounds laid by and the Unions are +spoiling for a fight. Another eighteen-pence would make life a +different thing for some of our pitmen. And the masters can afford it, +too. Sixteen and a half per cent is the average dividend on the largest +collieries around us." + +A small man, with gimlet-like black eyes and a heavy moustache, at which +he had been tugging nervously during Peter Dale's remarks, plunged into +the discussion. His name was Abraham Weavel and he came from Sheffield. + +"Coal's all very well," he declared, "but I speak for the ironfounders. +There's orders enough in Leeds and Sheffield to keep the furnaces ablaze +for two years, and the masters minting money at it. Our wages ain't to +be compared with the miners. We've twenty thousand in Sheffield that +aren't drawing twenty-five shillings a week and they're about fed up +with it. We've our Unions, too, and money to spare, and I tell you +they're beginning to ask what's the use of sending a Labour Member to +Parliament and having nothing come of it." + +A grey-whiskered man, who had the look of a preacher, struck the table +before him with a sudden vigour. + +"You remember who I am, Mr. Maraton? My name's Borden--Samuel +Borden--and I am from the Potteries. It's all very well for Weavel and +Dale there to talk, but there's no labour on God's earth so underpaid as +the china and glass worker. We may not have the money saved--that's +simply because it takes my people all they can do to keep from +starvation. I've figures here that'll prove what I say. I'll go so far +as this--there isn't a worse paid industry than mine in the United +Kingdom." + +There was a moment's silence. Abraham Weavel leaned back in his chair +and yawned. Peter Dale made a grimace of dissent. Maraton turned to +one of the little company who as yet had scarcely opened his lips--a +thin, ascetic-looking, middle-aged man, who wore gold spectacles, and +who had an air of refinement which was certainly not shared by any of +the others. + +"And you, Mr. Culvain," he enquired, "you represent no particular +industry, I believe? You were a journalist, were you not, before you +entered Parliament?" + +"I was and am a journalist," Culvain assented. "Since you have asked my +opinion, I must confess that I am all for more peaceful methods. These +Labour troubles which inconvenience and bring loss upon the community, +do harm to our cause. I am in favour of a vigorous course of platform +education through all the country districts of England. I think that +the principles of Socialism are not properly understood by the working +classes." + +"If one might make a comment upon all that you have said," Maraton +remarked, "I might point out to you that there is a certain selfishness +in your individual suggestions. Three of you are in favour of a +gigantic strike, each in his own constituency. Mr. Culvain, who is a +writer and an orator, prefers the methods which appeal most to him. Yet +even these strikes which you propose are puny affairs. You want to wage +war for the sake of a few shillings. We ought to fight, if at all, for +a greater and more splendid principle. It isn't a shilling or two more +a week that the people want. It's a share--a share to which they are, +without the shadow of a doubt, entitled--in the direct product of their +labour." + +"That's sound enough," Peter Dale admitted. "How are you going to get +it?" + +"You ask for too much," Weavel observed, "and you get nothing." + +"It is never wise," Culvain suggested quietly, "to have the public +against one." + +Maraton rose a little abruptly to his feet. He had the air of one eager +to dismiss the subject. + +"Gentlemen," he announced, "I've heard your views. In a few days' time +you shall hear mine. Only let me tell you this. To me you all seem to +be working and thinking on very narrow lines. Your object seems to be +the securing of small individual benefits for your individual +constituents. I think that if we get to work together in this country, +there must be something more national in our aspirations. That is all I +have to say for the present. As I think you know, I intend to make a +pronouncement of my own views at Manchester." + +They all took their leave a little later. Maraton himself saw them out +and watched them across the Square. Somehow or other, his depression +had visibly increased as he turned away. He had come into contact +lately, on the other side of the world, with a different order of +person--men and women, too, passionately, strenuously in earnest. They +were well-fed, prosperous individuals, these whom he had just dismissed. +Their politics were their business, their position as Members of +Parliament a source of unmixed joy to all of them; hard-headed men, very +likely, good each in his own department; beyond that, nothing. + +He returned presently to his study, where Aaron was already at work, +typing letters. + +"So that is your committee of Labour Members," Maraton remarked, +throwing himself into an easy chair. + +Aaron looked up. + +"They are all sound men," he declared. "Peter Dale, too, is a fine +speaker." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Yet it isn't from them," he said quietly, "that I can take a mandate. +I must go to the people. I couldn't even talk to them to-day. I +couldn't take them into my confidence. I couldn't show them the things +I have seen perhaps only in my dreams. I don't suppose they would have +listened. . . . How many more letters, Aaron?" + +"Thirty-seven, sir." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I shall walk for an hour or so," he announced. "Get them ready for me +to sign when I come in. Have you a home, young man?" + +"None, sir," Aaron admitted. + +"Excellent!" Maraton declared cheerfully. "These people with homes lose +sight of the real thing. What do you think of your Labour Members, +honestly, Aaron? Ah, I can see that they have been little gods to you! +Little tin gods, I am afraid, Aaron. Do they know what it is to go +hungry, I wonder? Not often! . . . Get on with your letters. I am +going out." + +Maraton walked to the Park and sat down underneath the trees. There +were a fair number of people about, notwithstanding the hot weather, and +very soon he recognised Lady Elisabeth. She was walking back and forth +along one of the side-walks, with a little, fussy woman, golden-haired, +and wearing a gown of the brightest blue. Maraton watched them, at +first idly and then with interest. Lady Elisabeth, in her cool muslin +gown and simple hat, seemed to be moving in a world of her own, into +which her companion's chatter but rarely penetrated. She walked with a +slow and delicate grace, not without a characteristic touch of languor. +Once or twice she looked around her--one might almost have imagined that +she was seeking escape from her companion--and on one of these occasions +her eyes met Maraton's. She stopped short. They were within a few feet +of one another, and Maraton rose to his feet. She lowered her parasol +and held out her hand. + +"Only a very short time ago," she told him, "I was wondering what you +were doing. You know that my uncle is expecting to see or hear from you +this afternoon?" + +"I know," he admitted. "To tell you the truth, I came out here to +think. I could not quite make up my mind what to say to him." + +"It is strange that we should meet here," she continued, "when Mr. +Foley was talking to me about you for so long this morning. He wished +that he had laid more emphasis upon the fact that your coming to us at +Lyndwood committed you to nothing. No one is the worse off for hearing +every point of view, is he? My uncle will feel so much happier if he +really has had the opportunity of having a long, uninterrupted talk with +you." + +Maraton smiled pleasantly. They were standing in a crowded part of the +walk and almost unconsciously they commenced to move slowly along +together. Lady Elisabeth turned to her companion. + +"You must let me introduce Mr. Maraton to you," she said. "This is Mr. +Maraton--Mrs. Bollington-Watts." + +The little woman leaned forward and looked at Maraton with undisguised +curiosity. + +"Forgive my starting at your name, won't you, Mr. Maraton?" she began. +"It is uncommon, isn't it, and I'm only just over from the States. I +dare say you read about all those awful doings in Chicago." + +Maraton, without direct reply, inclined his head. Mrs. +Bollington-Watts continued volubly. + +"My brother is a judge out in Chicago. It was he who signed the warrant +for Maraton's arrest. I'm afraid our people are getting much too +scared, nowadays, about that sort of thing. We don't seem to be able to +enforce our laws like you do over here. They are all saying now that it +ought to have been served and the man shot if there had been any +resistance." + +"In which case," Maraton remarked, "I should not have had the pleasure +of making your acquaintance, Mrs. Bollington-Watts." + +She stared at him for a moment, speechless through sheer lack of +comprehension. Then she glanced at Lady Elisabeth and the truth +dawned upon her. It was more than she could grapple with at first, +however. + +"You? But Lady Elisabeth--? But you, Mr. Maraton--are you really the +man who mur--who was associated with all that trouble in Chicago?" + +"I am, without a doubt, the man," Maraton assented cheerfully. "I am an +enemy of your class, Mrs. Bollington-Watts. Your husband is the steel +millionaire, isn't he? And I am also a Socialist of the most militant +and modern type. Nevertheless, I can assure you, for these few moments +you are perfectly safe." + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts drew a little breath. The remarkable +adaptability of her race came to her rescue; her point of view swung +round. + +"Why," she declared, "I have never been so interested in my life. This +is perfectly thrilling. Mr. Maraton, I am having a few friends come in +to-morrow evening. I should dearly love to give them a surprise. +Couldn't you just drop in for an hour? Or, better still, if you could +dine? I have taken Lenchester House for a year. My, it would be good +to see their faces!" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Thank you very much, Mrs. Bollington-Watts," he said, "but my visit to +England is one of business only. To be frank with you, I have no social +existence, nor any desire to cultivate one." + +"But you know Lady Elisabeth," the little woman protested. + +"I have the honour of knowing Lady Elisabeth incidentally," Maraton +replied. "If you will excuse me now--" + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts turned aside to talk vigorously to a passer-by. +Lady Elisabeth laid her hand upon his arm. + +"Mr. Maraton," she said softly, "do make up your mind. Please come to +Lyndwood." + +Her blue eyes were raised to his, fearlessly, appealingly. Maraton was +more than ever conscious of the delicate perfection of her person, her +clear skin, her silky brown hair. She was something new to him in her +sex. He knew quite well that a request from her was an unusual thing. + +"I will come, Lady Elisabeth," he promised gravely. "Beyond that, of +course, I can say nothing. But I will come to Lyndwood." + +The slight anxiety passed from her face like a cloud. Her smile was +positively brilliant. + +"It is charming of you," she whispered. + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts was once more free and by their side. They moved +on to the corner and Maraton was on the point of taking his leave. Just +at that moment Mrs. Bollington-Watts gave a little cry of amazement. A +coach was drawn up by the side of the path, and a young man who was +driving it, was looking down at them. Mrs. Bollington-Watts stopped +and waved her hand at him almost frantically. + +"Why, it's Freddy Lawes!" she exclaimed.. "Why, Freddy, what on earth +are you doing here? If this isn't a surprise! They told me you never +moved from Paris, and I thought I'd have to come right over there to see +you. . . . Well, I declare! Freddy!--why, Freddy, what's the +matter?" + +The words of Mrs. Bollington-Watts seemed as though they had been +spoken into empty air. The young man was leaning forward in his place, +the reins loosely held in his hand, and a groom was already upon the +path, recovering the whip which had slipped from his fingers. His eyes +were fixed not upon Mrs. Bollington-Watts nor upon Lady Elisabeth, but +upon Maraton. He was a young man of harmless and commonplace appearance +but his features were at that moment transformed. His mouth was +strained and quivering, his eyes were lit with something very much like +horror. Some words certainly left his lips, but they did not carry to +the hearing of any one of those three people. He looked at Maraton with +the fierce, terrified intentness of one who looks upon a spectre! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Mrs. Bollington-Watts' shrill voice once more broke the silence, which, +although it was a matter of seconds only, was not without a certain +peculiar dramatic quality. + +"Say, what's wrong with you, Freddy? You don't think I'm a ghost, do +you? Can't you come down and talk?" + +The spell, whatever it may have been, had passed. The young man lifted +his hat and leaned over the side of the coach. + +"I won't get down just now, Amy," he said. "Tell me where you are and +I'll come and see you. How's Richard?" + +Maraton, obeying a gesture from Lady Elisabeth, moved away with her, +leaving Mrs. Bollington-Watts absorbed in a flood of family questions +and answers. + +"Come back with me now, won't you?" she asked, a little abruptly. "My +uncle is restless and unwell this afternoon, and it will perhaps relieve +him to have your decision." + +"What about Mrs. Bollington-Watts?" + +Lady Elisabeth glanced at him for a moment. Her eyebrows were slightly +lifted. + +"If you can bear to lose her, I'm sure I can. She is really rather a +dear person but she is very intense. She will meet a crowd of people +she knows, directly, and quite forget that we have slipped away. Shall +we go down Birdcage Walk, or if you are in a hurry, perhaps you would +prefer a taxi?" + +He shook his head. + +"I prefer to walk." + +He did not at first prove a very entertaining companion. They proceeded +for some distance almost in silence. + +"If I were a curious person," Lady Elisabeth remarked, "I should +certainly be puzzling my brain as to what there could have been about +that very frivolous young man to call such an expression into your face. +And how terrified he was to see you!" + +Maraton smiled grimly. + +"You have observation, I perceive, Lady Elisabeth." + +"Powers of observation but no curiosity, thank goodness," Lady Elisabeth +declared. "Perhaps that is just as well, for I can see that you are +going to turn out to be a very mysterious person." + +"In some respects I believe that I am," he assented equably. "My +peculiar beliefs are responsible for a good deal, you see--and certain +circumstances. . . . But tell me--we have both agreed to be +frank--why have you changed your attitude towards me so completely? I +scarcely dared to hope even for your recognition this morning." + +She was suddenly thoughtful. + +"That was the very question I was asking myself when we crossed the +street just now," she remarked, with a faint smile. + +Maraton was conscious of a curious and undefined sense of pleasure in +her words. In the act of crossing he had held her arm for a few +moments, and though her assent to his physical guidance had been purely +negative, there was yet something about it which had given him a vague +pleasure. Instinctively he knew that she was of the order of women to +whom the merest touch from a man whom they disliked would have been +torture. + +"I think," she went on, "that it is because I am trying to adopt my +uncle's point of view towards you." + +"And what is your uncle's point of view?" + +"He believes you," she declared, "to be a very dangerous person, a rabid +enthusiast with brains and also stability--the most difficult order of +person in the world to deal with." + +"Anything else?" + +"He believes you," she continued, "to be harmless enough at a wholesome +period of our country's history. Just now, he told me yesterday, that +he considered it was within your power to bring something very much like +ruin upon the country." + +Maraton was silent. He felt singularly indisposed for argument. Every +condition of life just then seemed too pleasant. They were walking in +the shade, and a soft west wind was rustling in the trees above their +heads. + +"There are, after all," she said, "so many happy people in the world. +Is it worth while to drag down the pillars, to bring so much misery into +the world for the sake of a dream?" + +"I am no dreamer," he insisted quietly. "It is possible to make +absolute laws for the future with the same precision as one can extract +examples from the history of the past." + +"But human nature," she objected, "is always a shifting quality." + +"Only in detail. The heart and lungs of it are the same in all ages." + +They crossed the road and turned into St. James's Park. He paused for +a moment to look at the front of Buckingham Palace. + +"A hateful sight to you, of course," she murmured. + +"Not in the least," he assured her. "On the contrary, I think that the +actual government of this country is wonderful. I suppose my creed of +life would command a halter from any one who heard it, but I raise my +hat always to your King." + +"It is going to take me ages," she sighed, "to understand you." + +"I will supply you with the necessary signposts," he promised. "Perhaps +you will find then that the task will become almost too easy. For me I +am afraid it will prove too short." + +She turned her head and looked at him curiously. There was something +provocative in the curl of her lips and in her monosyllabic question. + +"Why?" + +"Because when you have arrived at a complete understanding," he +declared, "I fear we shall have reached the parting of our ways." + +She looked steadfastly ahead. + +"Wouldn't that rather rest with you?" she asked. + +They passed a flower-barrow wonderfully laden, and she half stopped with +a little exclamation. + +"Oh, I must have some of those white roses!" she begged. "They fit in +at this moment with one of my only superstitions." + +He bought her a great handful. She held them in both hands and gave him +her parasol to carry. + +"Mine is an inherited superstition, so I will not be ashamed of it," she +told him. "We have always believed that white roses bring happiness, +especially if they come accidentally at a critical moment." + +He glanced behind at the retreating figure of the flower woman. + +"If happiness is so easily purchased," he said, "what a pity it is that +I did not buy the barrowful!" + +"It isn't a matter of quantity at all," she assured him. "One blossom +would have been enough and you were really frightfully extravagant." + +She drifted into silence. They were walking eastwards now, and before +them was the great yellow haze which hung over the sun-enveloped city, a +haze which stretched across the whole arc of the heavens, and underneath +which were toiling the millions to whom his life was consecrated. For a +moment the grim inappropriateness of these hours struck him with a pang +of remorse. He felt almost like a traitor to be walking with this slim, +beautiful girl whose face was hidden from him now in the mass of white +blossoms. And then his sense of proportion came to the rescue. He knew +that he had but one desire--to work out his ends by the most effective +means. It did not even disturb him to reflect that for the first time +for many years he had found pleasure in what was merely an interlude. + +"We turn here," she directed. "You see, we are close to home now. My +uncle will be so glad to see you, Mr. Maraton, and I cannot tell you +how delighted I am that you are coming to Lyndwood." + +"I only hope," he said a little gravely, "that your uncle will not +expect too much from my coming. It seems churlish to refuse, and even +though our views are as far apart as the poles, I know that your uncle +means well." + +She smiled at him delightfully. + +"I refuse to be depressed even by your solemn looks," she declared. "It +is my twenty-fourth birthday to-day and I am still young enough to cling +to my optimism." + +"Your birthday," he remarked. "I should have brought you an offering." + +She held up the roses. + +"Nothing in the world," she assured him softly, "could have given me +more pleasure than these. Now I am going to take you first into a +little den where you will not be disturbed, and then fetch my uncle," +she added, as they passed into the house. "I shall pray for your mutual +conversion. You won't mind a very feminine room, will you? Just now +there are certain to be callers at any moment, and my uncle's rooms are +liable to all manner of intrusions." + +She threw open the door and ushered him into what seemed indeed to be a +little fairy chamber, a chamber with yellow walls and yellow rug, white +furniture, oddments of china and photographs, silver-grey etchings, +water-colour landscapes, piles of books and magazines. On a small table +stood a yellow Sevres vase, full of roses. + +"It's a horrible place for a man to sit in," she said, looking around +her. "You must take that wicker chair and throw away as many cushions +as you like. Now I am going to fetch my uncle, and remember, please," +she concluded, looking back at him from the door, "if I have seemed +frivolous this morning, I am not always so. More than anything I am +looking forward, down at Lyndwood, to have you, if you will, talk to me +seriously." + +"Shall I dare to argue with you, I wonder?" he asked. + +She smiled at him. + +"Why not? A matter of courage?" + +"The bravest person in the world," he declared, "remembers always that +little proverb about discretion." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The conference between Mr. Foley and Maraton was brief enough. The +former arrived a few moments after his niece's departure. + +"I have come," Maraton announced, as they shook hands, "to accept your +invitation to Lyndwood. You understand, I am sure, that that commits me +to nothing?" + +Mr. Foley's expression was one of intense relief. + +"Naturally," he replied. "I quite understand that. I am delighted to +think that you are coming at all. May I ask whether you have conferred +with your friends about the matter?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"I have not even mentioned it to them. I met what I understand to be a +committee of the Labour Party this morning--a Mr. Dale, Abraham +Weavel, Culvain, Samuel Borden and David Ross. Those were the names so +far as I can remember. I did not mention my proposed visit to you at +all. There seemed to me to be no necessity. I am subject to no one +here." + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"They won't like it," he declared frankly. + +"Their liking or disliking it will not affect the situation in the +least," Maraton assured him. "I shall come, without a doubt. It will +interest me to hear what you have to say, although unfortunately I +cannot hold out the slightest hope--" + +"That is entirely understood," Mr. Foley interrupted. "Now how will +you come? Lyndwood Park is just sixty miles from London. To-day is +Friday, isn't it? I shall motor down there sometime to-morrow. Why +won't you come down with me?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"If you will excuse me," he said, "I will not fix any time definitely. +I have a good deal of correspondence still to attend to, and there is +one little matter which might keep me in town till the afternoon." + +"Let me send a car up for you," Mr. Foley suggested. + +"Thank you," Maraton replied, "I have already hired one for a time." + +"Then come just at what time suits you," Mr. Foley begged,--"the +sooner the better, of course. Apart from that, I shall be about the +place all day." + +In Buckingham Gate, Maraton came slowly to a standstill. The coach +which he had seen in the Park an hour ago was drawn up in front of a +large hotel. The young man who was driving it had just come down the +steps and was drawing on his gloves. They met almost face to face. + +"Am I to speak to you?" the young man asked. + +"You had better," Maraton assented. "Tell me what you are doing here?" + +"I was bored with Paris," the young man answered. "My friends were all +coming here. I had no idea that we were likely to meet." + +Maraton looked at him thoughtfully. As they stood face to face at that +moment, there was a certain strange likeness between them, a likeness of +the husk only. + +"I do not wish to interfere with your movements," Maraton said calmly. +"Where you are is nothing to me. I proposed that you should remain away +from London simply because I fancied that it would be easier for you to +observe the conditions which exist between us. So long as you remember +them, however, your whereabouts are indifferent to me." + +The young man laughed a little nervously. + +"You're not over-cordial!" + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"The world in which you live," he remarked, "is a training school, I +suppose, for false sentiment. The slight kinship that there is between +us is of no account to me. I simply remind you once more that it is to +your advantage to neither know me or to know of me. Remember that, and +it may be London or Paris or New York--wherever you choose." + +The young man remounted his coach, and Maraton passed on. He walked +without a pause to the square in which his house was situated. Here he +found Aaron hard at work and, sitting down at once, he began to sign his +letters. + +"No end of people have been here," Aaron announced. "I have got rid of +them all." + +"Good!" Maraton said shortly. "By-the-bye, Aaron, isn't there a meeting +to-night at the Clarion?" + +Aaron nodded. + +"David Ross is going to speak. He can move them when he starts. My +sister is going to call here for me, and I thought if you didn't want +me, I'd like to go." + +"We will all go together," Maraton decided. "We can creep in somewhere +at the back, I suppose. I want to hear how they do it." + +The young man's face lit up with joy. + +"There's sure to be lots of people there," he declared, "but we can find +a seat at the back quite easily." + +"What's it all about?" Maraton asked. + +"The proposed boiler-maker's strike," Aaron replied eagerly. "The +meeting is really a meeting of the workpeople at Boulding's. But are +you sure you won't go on the platform, sir?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"That is just what I don't want to do. I want to see what these +meetings are like, what sort of arguments are used, what the spirit of +the people is, if I can. That is what I would really like to find out, +Aaron--the spirit of the people." + +The young man looked up from his work. He was greatly changed during +the last few hours. He was wearing a new suit of clothes and clean +linen; his hair had been cut, his face shaved. Yet in some respects he +was unaltered. His eyes still burned in their sockets, his lips still +quivered. + +"I will tell you what the people are like," he said. "They are like +dumb animals, like sheep. They have suffered so long and so much that +their nerve power is numbed. They lack will, they lack initiative. +They are narrowed down to a daily life which makes of them something +little different from an animal. Yet they can be roused. David Ross +himself has done it, done it like none of those other M.P.'s. I have +seen him carried out of himself. He is like some of these Welshmen and +Salvation Army people when they're half drunk with religion--the words +seem to come to them in a stream. That's how David Ross is sometimes. +But it isn't often any one can get at them." + +"That is what they say over on the other side," he remarked softly. + +"They've got to be in such a state," Aaron continued, "that nothing +appeals to them except some material benefit; a pipe of tobacco or a mug +of beer will stir them more than any dream of freedom. Oh! it's sad to +see them, often. I used to go to the gates at the shipbuilding yard and +watch them come out. Ten years about does for a man there. It's a +short spell." + +Maraton sighed. "Yet they endure," he muttered to himself. + +"Yet they endure," Aaron echoed. "Can't you see why? Don't you know +that it is because they haven't heard the word--the one great word? +That's what they're waiting for--for the prophet to open their eyes and +lead them out of the wilderness. Only just at first it may be that even +his voice will sound in vain. You are sure you won't mind my sister +coming with us, sir? She is so interested and they all know her down +there." + +"It will be an advantage to have your sister," Maraton replied. "There +are many things I should like to ask her." + + + +CHAPTER IX + +At twenty minutes past eight, Maraton, with his two companions, reached +the building in which the meeting was to take place--a plain, +unimposing-looking edifice, built for a chapel, whitewashed inside, but +with plastered walls and bare floors. The room was almost packed, and +it was with some difficulty that they found seats in the back row. +David Ross, Peter Dale and Graveling occupied chairs on the platform. +Between them, Julia and Aaron kept Maraton informed as to the identity +of each newcomer. + +"That's Mr. Docker, who is going to speak now," the latter declared in +an excited whisper. "He is a fighting man. It's he who has manoeuvred +this strike, they say. Now he's off." + +Mr. Docker has risen to his feet amidst a little hoarse cheering. For +a quarter of an hour or more, he spoke fluently and convincingly. It +appeared from his statements that boiler-makers were the worst paid +mechanics in the universe, that it was he who had discovered this, that +it was he who had drawn up the ultimatum which had been presented to the +masters and refused. His peroration was friendly but appealing. + +"There are some amongst Boulding's people," he wound up, "who, they tell +me, are satisfied. If so, I hope they are not here. They haven't any +place here. To them I would say--'If you are satisfied with twenty-four +shillings a week, well, don't waste a penny in subscribing to the +Unions, but go and spend your twenty-four shillings a week and live on +it and enjoy it, and get fat on it if you can.' But to those others I +want to say that it's just as easy to get twenty-eight. The masters +don't want you to strike just now. You only have to be firm and you can +get what's fair and right." + +A man rose up in the hall. + +"Is it true," he asked, "that Boulding's won't pay the advance?--that +they are going to close the doors to-morrow if we insist upon it?" + +"It is true," Mr. Docker answered. "Are you afraid of that?" + +The man hesitated. + +"I don't know as 'afraid' is exactly the word," he said, "but I don't +fancy being out of work for a month or so, and perhaps losing my job at +the end of it. Fifteen bob a week from the Union won't keep my little +lot." + +There was a murmur of applause. Docker pointed with threatening +forefinger to the man who had just sat down. + +"It's the likes of him," he declared, "who keep down wages, who make +slaves of us! The likes of him, who haven't the pluck to ask for what +they might get at any time!" + +He plunged into facts and figures, and Maraton more than once yawned. +He seemed to find more interest in watching the faces of the audience +than in listening to the stock arguments which were being thrown at +their heads. A little cloud of tobacco smoke hung about the room. +There were few women present, and most of the men were smoking. On the +whole they were a very earnest gathering. There were very few there who +were not deeply interested. Julia was listening to every word, her head +resting upon her hand, her lips a little parted, her eyes full of +smouldering fires. At the end of Docker's speech, one of the Union +officials got up on his feet. It was for the men themselves to decide, +he said. They had subscribed the money; it was for them to say whether +it should be used. Was the moment propitious for a blow on behalf of +their rights? If they thought so, then let it be war. If they asked +for his advice, they were welcome to it. His advice was to fight. The +masters had refused their reasonable ultimatum. Let the masters try and +carry out their contracts without work people! That was his way of +looking at it. + +There was a rumble of applause. The militants were certainly in the +majority. A man got up from one of the front rows. + +"I propose," he said, "that we strike to-morrow. They are working us as +hard as they can in shifts on special jobs now, in case they should get +left. Every hour we work makes it better for them. I say 'Strike!'" + +There was a thunder of applause. A ballot box was brought and placed on +a table in front of the platform. + +"They will strike," Aaron muttered,--"three thousand of them! +Splendid!" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"It is piecemeal work, this. They do not understand." + +"They do not understand what?" Julia asked him, turning her head +swiftly. + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"They will ask for five shillings a week more and get half-a-crown," he +said. "Half-a-crown a week! What difference can it make? Do you know +what Boulding's put on one side for distribution to their shareholders +last year?--what they put to their reserve fund? Why, it was a +fortune!" + +A man from somewhere at the back of the hall climbed on to a seat to get +a better view and suddenly pointed out Maraton to his neighbours. A +little murmur arose from the vicinity. Some one mentioned his name. +The cry was taken up from the other side of the hall. + +"Maraton!" + +"Maraton!" + +Maraton sat back, frowning. The cries, however, became more insistent. +The occupants of the platform were leaning forward towards him. The +chairman rose In his feet and beckoned. With obvious reluctance, +Maraton moved a few steps to the front. From the far corners of the +ill-lit hall, white-faced men climbed on to the benches, peering through +the cloud of smoke which hung almost like fog about the place. They +saluted him in all manner of ways--with cat-calls, hurrahs, stamping of +feet, clapping of hands. Maraton, who had climbed up on to the +platform, was soon surrounded. + +Dale held out his hand. + +"Thought you weren't going to honour us here, Mr. Maraton," he remarked +gruffly. + +"I had not meant to," Maraton replied. "I came as one of the audience. +I wanted to hear, to understand if I could." + +Dale stretched out his hand. + +"This is Mr. Docker," he said, performing the introduction. "Mr. +Docker--Mr. Maraton." + +"Come to support us, sir, I hope?" the former remarked. + +"I came to listen," Maraton answered. "To tell you the truth, it's +against my views, this, an individual strike." + +They were calling to him now from the front. Mr. Docker's reply was +inaudible. + +"You'll have to say a few words," Dale insisted. "They'll never leave +off until you do." + +Maraton nodded and turned towards the audience. He stood looking down +at them for a moment or two, without speech. Even after silence had +been established he seemed to be at a loss as to exactly what to say. +When at last he did speak, it was in an easy and conversational manner. +There was no sign of the fire or the frenzy with which he had kindled +the enthusiasms of the people of the United States. + +"I find it rather hard to know exactly what to say to you," he began. +"I am glad to be here and I have come to this country to work for you, +if I may. But, you know, I have views of my own, and it isn't a very +auspicious occasion for me to stand for the first time upon an English +platform. I came as one of the audience to-night and I have listened to +all that has been said. I don't think that I am in favour of your +strike." + +There was a murmur of wonder, mingled with discontent. + +"Why not?" some one shouted from the back. + +"Aye, why not?" a dozen voices echoed. + +"I'll try and tell you, if you like," Maraton continued. "I didn't mean +to say anything until after Manchester, but I'll tell you roughly what +my scheme is. These individual strikes such as you're planning are +just like pinpricks on the hide of an elephant. How many are there of +you? A thousand, say? Well, you thousand may get a shilling or two a +week more. It won't alter your condition of life. It won't do much for +you, any way. You will have spent your money, and in a year or two the +masters will be taking it out of you some other way. A strike such as +you are proposing causes inconvenience--no more. I'd bigger things in +my mind for you." + +He hesitated for a moment as though uncertain, even now, whether to go +on. Glancing around the hall, his eyes for a moment met Julia's. +Something in her still face, the almost passionate enquiry of her +wonderful eyes, seemed to decide him. He lifted up his hands, his voice +grew in volume. + +"Let me tell you what I want, then. Let me tell you the dream which +others have had before me, which is laughed to scorn by the enemies of +the people, but which grows in substance and shape, year by year. I +want to teach you how to smash the individual capitalist. I want to +teach you how to frame laws which will bring the wealth of this country +into a new and saner distribution. I want to teach you the folly of the +old ideas that because of the wretched conditions in which you live, the +better educated man, the man better equipped mentally and physically for +his job, must gather to himself the wealth and you must become his +slaves. What do you suppose, in the course of three or four +generations, produces men of different mental and physical calibre? I +will tell you. The circumstances of their bringing-up, the life they +have to lead, their education, their environment. What chance have you +under present conditions? None! For very shame, as the years pass on, +you operatives will be better paid. What will it amount to? A few +shillings a week more, the same life, the same anxieties, the same daily +grinding toil, brainless, machine-like, leading you nowhere because +there isn't a way out. There will still remain your masters; there +will still remain you, the men. Can't you see what it is that I am +aiming at? I want to make a great machine of all the industries of this +country. The man with the gift for figures will find himself in the +office, and the man with lesser brain power will find himself before a +machine. But the two will be working for one aim and one end. They +will both be parts of the machine, and for their livelihood they will +take what that machine produces, distributed in a scientific and exact +ratio. It's co-operation over again, you say? Very well, call it that. +Only I tell you why co-operation has failed up till now. It's because +you've been in too much of a hurry. I am going to appeal to you +presently, not for your own interests but in the interests of your +children and your children's children, because the better days that are +to come for you won't dawn yet awhile. It may be, even, that you will +be called upon to make sacrifices, instead of finding yourselves better +off. There are some great changes which time alone can govern." + +"What about this strike?" some one shouted from the bottom of the +hall. + +"You are quite right, sir," Maraton replied swiftly. "I've wandered a +little from my point. I think that the first thing I said to you was +that this strike, if it took place, would be like the pinprick on an +elephant's hide. I want to teach you how to stab!" + +There was a murmur of voices--approving this time, at any rate. + +"Can't you see," Maraton continued, "that Society can easily deal with +one strike at a time? That isn't the way to make yourself felt. What I +want to see in this country is a simultaneous strike of wharfingers, +dock labourers, railways, and all the means of communication; a strike +which will stop the pulses of the nation, a strike which will cost +hundreds of millions, a strike which may cost this country its place +amongst the nations, but which will mark the dawn of new conditions. +I'd put out your forge fires from Glasgow to Sheffield and Sheffield to +London. I'd take the big risks--the rioting, the revolutions, the +starvation, the misery that will surely come. I'd do that for the sake +of the new nation which would start again where the old one perished." + +There was a sudden burst of applause. A little thrill seemed to have +found its way, like zig-zag lightning, here and there amongst them. But +there were many who sat and smoked in stolid silence. Maraton looked +into their faces and sighed to himself. There were too many hungry +people for his mission. + +"We are half starved," a man called from the back of the ball. "My wage +is a pound a week and four children to keep. It's fine talk, yours, but +it won't feed 'em." + +There was a murmur of sullen approval. Maraton's hand shot out, his +finger quivered as it pointed to the man. + +"I don't blame you," he said, "but it's the cry you've just raised which +keeps you and a few other millions exactly in the places you occupy. +There are many generations as yet unborn, to come from your children and +your children's children. Are they, then, to suffer as you have +suffered?" + +There was a little stir at the back of the platform. A tall, +broad-shouldered man pushed his way through to the front. His face was +pitted with smallpox; he had black, wiry hair; small, narrow eyes; a +large, brutal mouth. He took up his position in the middle of the +platform, ignoring Maraton altogether. + +"Listen, lads," he began; "you are here to-night to decide whether or +not you want another half-crown on to your wages. This man who has been +talking to you has done big things in America. I know nothing about him +and I'm not rightly sure that I know what's at the back of his head. If +he is your friend, he's our friend, and we shall soon fall into line, +but to-night you're here to meet about that half-crown. It's for you to +say whether or no you'll have it. We've saved the money for the fight, +saved it from your wages, got it with your sweat. You've given up your +beer for it--aye, and maybe your baccy. We've saved the money and the +time's come to fight. All that he says"--jerking his elbow towards +Maraton--"sounds good enough. That'll come in later. Are you for the +strike?" + +There was no doubt about the reply--a roar of approving voices. Maraton +smiled at them and stepped down from the platform. For the moment he +was forgotten. Only Julia whispered passionately in his ear as they +moved out of the place. + +"You should have gone on. They didn't understand. They have waited so +long, they could have waited a little longer." + +Maraton did not answer until they reached the street. Then he stood a +few steps in the background, watching the people as they came out. + +"I couldn't," he said simply. "I felt as though I were offering stones +for bread. The stones were better, perhaps, but the cruelty was the +same." + + + +CHAPTER X + +Maraton walked alone with Elisabeth on the following afternoon in the +flower garden at Lyndwood. She was apologising for some unexpected +additions to the number of their guests. + +"Mother always forgets whom she has asked down for the week-end," she +said, "and my uncle is far too sweet about it. I know that he wanted to +have as much time as possible alone with you before Monday. It is on +Monday you go to Manchester, isn't it?" + +"On Monday," he answered, a little absently. "I have to make my bow to +the democracy of your country in the evening." + +"I wish I could make up my mind, Mr. Maraton," she continued, "whether +you have come over here for good or for evil." + +"For evil that good may come of it, I am afraid," he rejoined, "would be +the kindest interpretation you could put upon my enterprise here." + +"The Spectator calls you the Missionary of Unrest." + +"The Spectator, I am afraid, will become more violent later on." + +"Let us sit down here for a moment," she suggested, pointing to a seat. +"You see, we are just at the top of this long pathway, and we get a view +of the roses all the way down." + +"It is very beautiful," he admitted,--"far too beautiful." + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Too beautiful? Is that possible?" + +"Without a doubt," he declared. "Too much beauty is as bad as too +little." + +"And why is that? Surely it must be good for one to be surrounded by +inspiring things?" + +"I am not sure that beauty does inspire anything except content," he +answered, smiling. "I call this garden of yours, for instance, a most +vicious place, a perfect lotus-eater's Paradise. Positively, I feel the +energy slipping out of my bones as I sit here." + +"Then you shall be chained to that seat," she threatened. "You will not +be able to go to Manchester and make trouble, and my uncle will be able +to sleep at nights." + +"I feel that everything in life is slipping away from me," he protested. +"I ought to be thinking over what lam going to say to your country +people, and instead of that I am wondering whether there is anything +more beautiful in the world than the blue haze over your meadows." + +She laughed, and moved her parasol a little so that she could see him +better. + +"You know," she said, "my uncle declares that if only you could be +taught to imbibe a little more of the real philosophy of living, you +would become quite a desirable person." + +"And what is the real philosophy of living?" + +"Just now, with him, it is the laissez faire, the non-interference with +the essential forces of life, especially the forces that concern other +people," she explained. + +He looked at her, a little startled. What instinct, he wondered, had +led her to place her finger upon the one poison spot in his thoughts? + +"I can see," he remarked, "that I have found my way into a dangerous +neighbourhood." + +She changed her position a little, so as to face him. Her blue eyes +were lit with laughter, her lips mocked him. Usually reserved, she +seemed at that moment to be inspired with an instinct which was +something almost more than coquetry. She leaned a little towards him. +The aloofness of her carriage and manner had suddenly disappeared. He +was conscious of the perfection of her white muslin gown, of the shape +of her neck, the delicate lines and grace of her slim young body. + +"You shall be chained here," she repeated. "My uncle has a new theory +of individualism. He thinks that if no one tried to improve anybody, +the world would be so much more livable a place. Shall we sit at his +feet?" + +He shook his head. + +"I am not brave," he said, "but I am at least discreet." + +"Do you think that you are?" she asked him quietly. "Do you think that +you are discreet in the sense of being wise? Are you sure that you are +using your gifts for the best purpose, for yourself--and other people?" + +"No one can be sure," he replied. "I only follow my star." + +"Then are you sure that it is your star?" + +"No one can ever mistake that," he declared. "Sometimes one may lose +one's way, and one may even falter if the path is rugged. But the star +remains." + +She sighed. Her eyes seemed to have wandered away. He felt that it was +a trick to avoid looking at him for the moment. + +"I do not want you to go to Manchester on Monday in your present mood," +she said. "I hate to think of you up there, the stormy petrel, the +apostle of unrest and sedition. If I were a Roman woman, I think that I +would poison you to-night at dinner-time." + +"Quite an idea," he remarked. "I am not at all sure that our having +become too civilised for crime is a healthy sign of the times." + +"I do wish," she persisted, "that you would try and see things a little +more humanly. My uncle is full of enthusiasms about you. You have had +some conversation already, haven't you?" + +"We talked for an hour after luncheon," Maraton admitted. "Your uncle's +is a very sane point of view. I know just how he regards me--a sort of +dangerous enthusiast, a firebrand with the knack of commanding +attention. The worst of it is that when I am with him, he almost makes +me feel like that myself." + +She laughed. + +"All men of genius," she declared, "must be impressionable. We ought to +set ourselves to discover your weak point." + +He smiled at her with upraised eyebrows. There were times when he +seemed to her like a boy. + +"Haven't you discovered it?" + +She made a little face and swung her parasol around. When she spoke +again, she was very grave. + +"Mr. Maraton," she begged, "please will you promise that before you go +away, you will talk to me again for a few minutes?" + +"It is a promise easily made!" he replied. + +"But I mean seriously." + +"I will talk to you at any time, anyhow you wish," he promised. + +She rose to her feet then. + +"For the present you have promised to play tennis," she reminded him. +"Please go and change your things." + +"I must have a yellow rosebud for my button-hole," he begged. + +She arranged it herself in his coat. He laughed as she swept aside a +wisp of her hair which brushed his cheek. + +"What a picture for the photographic Press of America!" he exclaimed. +"The anarchist of Chicago and the Prime Minister's niece!" + +"What is an anarchist?" she asked him abruptly. He opened the little +iron gate which led out of the garden. + +"A sower of fire and destruction," he answered, "a highly unpleasant +person to meet when he's in earnest." + +She looked into his face for a moment with a wistfulness which was +almost passionate. + +"Please tell me at once, that you aren't--" + +He pointed back to the garden. + +"We have come out of the land of confessions. On this side of the gate +I am your uncle's guest, and I mustn't be teased with questions." + +"Before you go," she threatened, "I shall take you back into the +rose-garden." + +From their wicker chairs drawn under a great cedar tree, Mr. Foley and +Lord Armley, perhaps the most distinguished of his colleagues, watched +the slow approach of the two from the flower gardens. Lord Armley, who +had only arrived during the last half hour, was recovering from a fit of +astonishment. He had just been told of his fellow guest. + +"Granted, even, that the man is as dangerous as you say," he remarked, +"it is certainly creating a new precedent for you to bring him into the +bosom of your family. Is it conversion, bribery, or poison that you +have in your thoughts?" + +"Influence, if possible," Mr. Foley answered. "Somehow or other, I +have always detected in his writing a vein of common sense." + +"What the dickens is common sense!" Lord Armley growled. + +"Shall I say a sense of the fitness of things?" the Prime Minister +replied,--"a sense of proportion, perhaps? Notwithstanding his +extraordinary speeches in America, I believe that to some extent Maraton +possesses it. Anyhow, it seemed to me to be worth trying. One couldn't +face the idea of letting him go up north just now without making an +effort." + +"Things are really serious there," Lord Armley muttered. + +"Worse than any of us know," Mr. Foley agreed. "If you hadn't been +coming here, I should have sent for you last night. The French +Ambassador was with me for an hour after dinner." + +"No fresh trouble?" + +"It was a general conversation, but his visit had its purpose--a very +definite and threatening purpose, too. I do not blame France. We are +under great obligations to her already. Half her fleet is there to +watch over our possessions. She naturally must be sure of her quid pro +quo. Everywhere, all over the Continent, the idea seems to be spreading +that we are going to be plunged into what really amounts to a civil war. +The coming of Maraton has strengthened the people's belief. A country +without the sinews of movement, a country in which the working classes +laid down their tools, a country whose forges had flickered out and +whose railroad tracks were deserted, would simply be the helpless prey +of any country who cared to pay off old scores." + +Lord Armley was looking curiously at the approaching couple. + +"Never saw a man," he said, half to himself, "who looked the part so +little. Fellow must be well-bred, Foley." + +Mr. Foley nodded. + +"No one knows who his people were. It doesn't really matter, does it? +Accident has made him a gentleman--accident or fate. Perhaps that is +why he has gained such an ascendency over the people. The working +classes of the country are most of them sick of their own Labour +Members. The practical men can see no further than their noses, and the +theorists are too far above their heads. Maraton is the only one who +seems to understand. You must have a talk with him, Armley." + +Lady Elisabeth, with a little smile, had turned towards the tennis +courts, and Maraton came on alone. Mr. Foley turned to his companion. + +"Armley," he said, "this is Mr. Maraton--Lord Armley." + +"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maraton," Lord Armley declared, as +the two men shook hands, "in such peaceful surroundings. The Press over +here has not been too kind to you. Our ideas of your personality are +rather based, I am afraid, upon the _Punch_ caricature. You've seen it, +perhaps?" + +Maraton's eyes lit up with mirth. + +"Excellent!" he observed. "I have had one framed." + +"He is standing," Lord Armley continued, turning to Mr. Foley, "on the +topmost of three tubs, his hair flying in the wind, his mouth open to +about twice its normal size, with fire and smoke coming out of it. And +below, a multitude! It is a splendid caricature. They tell me, Mr. +Maraton, that it is your intention to kindle the fires in England, too." + +Maraton was suddenly grave. + +"Lord Armley," he said, "all the world speaks of me as an apostle of +destruction and death. It is because they see a very little distance. +In my own thoughts, if ever I do think of myself, it is as a builder, +not as a destroyer, that I picture myself. Only in this world, as in +any other, one must destroy first to build upon a sound foundation." + +"Good reasoning, sir," Lord Armley replied, "only one should be very +sure, before one destroys, that the new order of things will be worthy +of the sacrifice." + +"After dinner," Mr. Foley remarked, as he lit a cigarette, "we are +going to talk. At present, Maraton is under a solemn promise to play +tennis." + +Maraton looked towards the house. + +"If I might be allowed," he said, "I will go and put on my flannels. +Lady Elisabeth is making up a set, I think." + +He turned towards the house. The two men stood watching him. + +"Is he to be bought?" Lord Armley asked, in a low tone. + +Mr. Foley shook his head. + +"Not with money or place," he answered thoughtfully. + +"There isn't a man breathing who hasn't his price, if you could only +discover what it is," Lord Armley declared, as he took a cigarette from +his case and lit it. + +"A truism, my friend," Mr. Foley admitted, "which I have always +considered a little nebulous. However, we shall see. We have a few +hours' respite, at any rate." + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Lady Grenside's hospitable instincts were unquenchable. The small +house-party to which her brother had reluctantly consented had grown by +odd couples until the house was more than half full. Twenty-two people +sat down to dinner that night. For the first time in his life, Mr. +Foley interfered with the arrangement of the table. He sought his +sister out just as the dressing-bell rang. + +"My dear Catharine," he asked, a little reprovingly, "was it necessary +to have such a crowd here--at any rate until after Monday? You know +that I don't interfere as a rule, but there were special reasons why I +wanted to be as quiet as possible until after Maraton had left." + +Lady Grenside's expression was delightfully apologetic. It conveyed, +also, a sense of helplessness. + +"What was I to do?" she demanded. "Most of these people were asked, or +half asked, weeks ago, and I hate putting any one off. It is quite a +weakness of mine, that. And I am sure, Stephen, there isn't a soul who +could possibly object to Mr. Maraton. Personally, I think he is +altogether charming, and so distinguished-looking. He has quite the air +of being used to good society." + +Mr. Foley's eyes lit with joyful appreciation of his sister's naivete. +Perhaps one reason why they got on so well together was because she was +continually ministering to his sense of humour. + +"It wasn't altogether that," he said, "but never mind. We can't send +the people away now--that's certain. What I wanted to tell you was that +Elisabeth must sit next Maraton to-night." + +Lady Grenside was horrified. + +"However could I explain such an arrangement to Jack Carton!" she +protested. "Apart from a matter of precedence, you know that he is +Elisabeth's declared admirer. It is perfectly certain that at a word of +encouragement from her, he would propose. A most suitable match, too, +in every way, and, you know, Elisabeth is beginning to be just a little +anxiety to me. She is twenty-four, and girls marry so young, nowadays." + +"Carton and she can make up for lost time later on," Mr. Foley +insisted. "Maraton goes to-morrow. To-night I am relying upon +Elisabeth to look after him. For some reason or other, they seem to get +on together excellently." + +Lady Grenside took Lord Carton into one of the corners of her brother's +quaint and delightful drawing-room, to explain the matter. + +"My dear Jack," she began, "never be a politician." + +"I like that!" the young man answered. "Lady Elisabeth has been talking +to me for half an hour before dinner, trying to get me to interest +myself in what she calls serious objects." + +"Oh, it's all right, so far as the man is concerned!" Lady Grenside +amended. "I was thinking of my own position. Only an hour ago, my +brother comes to me and tells me that I am to send Elisabeth in to +dinner to-night with--with whom do you think?" + +"With me, I hope," the young man replied promptly, "only I don't know +why he should interfere." + +"With Mr. Maraton." + +"What, the anarchist fellow?" + +Lady Grenside nodded several times. + +"I can't refuse Stephen in his own house," she said, "and Mr. Maraton +is leaving to-morrow." + +The young man sighed. + +"He is just one of those thoughtful chaps with plenty of gas, that +Elisabeth likes to talk to," he complained. "Never mind, it's got to be +put up with, I suppose." + +"I am sending you in with Lily," Lady Grenside continued. "She'll keep +you amused. Only I felt that I must explain." + +"I can't think what the fellow's doing here, anyhow," Carton remarked +discontentedly. "A few generations ago we should have hung him." + +"Hush!" Lady Grenside whispered. "Don't let Elisabeth hear you talk +like that. Here she comes. I wonder--" + +Lady Grenside stopped short. She was looking steadily at her daughter +and her expression of doubt had a genuine impulse behind it. Carton was +not so reticent. + +"By Jove, she does look stunning!" he murmured. + +Elisabeth, who seldom wore colours, was dressed in blue, with a necklace +of turquoises. On the threshold she paused to make some laughing +rejoinder to a man who was holding open the door for her. Her eyes were +brilliant, her face was full of animation. Lady Grenside's face +darkened as the unseen man came into sight. It was Maraton. + +"Never saw Elisabeth look so ripping," Carton repeated. "Just my luck, +not to take her in." + +"To-morrow night," Lady Grenside promised. + +"That's all very well," Carton grumbled. "I wish she didn't look so +thundering pleased with herself." + +Lady Grenside leaned a little towards him. + +"Elisabeth is a dear girl," she declared. "She is doing all this for +her uncle's sake. Mr. Foley is very anxious indeed to conciliate this +man, and Elisabeth is helping him. You know how keen she is on doing +what she can in that way." + +Carton nodded a little more hopefully. His eyes were fixed now upon +Maraton. + +"Can't think how the fellow learnt to turn himself out like that. I +thought these sort of people dressed anyhow." + +Lady Grenside shrugged her shoulders. + +"I believe," she said, "that this man is full of queer contradictions. +Some one once told me that he was enormously wealthy; that he had been +to an English public school and changed his name out in America. +Rubbish, I expect. . . . Run and find Lily, there's a dear boy. We +are going in now." + +Dinner was served at a round table, and a good deal of the conversation +was general. On Maraton's left hand, however, was a lady whose horror +at his presence, concealed out of deference to her host, reduced her to +stolid and unbending silence. Elisabeth, quickly aware of the fact, +made swift atonement. While the others talked all around them of +general subjects, she conversed with Maraton almost in whispers, lightly +enough at first, but with an undernote of seriousness always there. +Maraton would have been less than human if he had not been susceptible +to the charm of her conversation. + +"I cannot tell you," she declared, towards the end of the meal, "how +much I am hoping from this brief visit of yours. I know you feel that +our class has little feeling for the people whom you represent. If only +I could convince you how wrong that idea is! Nothing has interested me +so much as the different measures which have been brought in for the +sake of the people. And my uncle, too--he is the kindest of men and +very broad. He would go even further than he does, but for his +colleagues." + +"He goes a long way," Maraton reminded her, "when he asks me to his +home; invites me--well, why should I not say it?--invites me to join his +party." + +"He is doing what he believes is sensible," she went on eagerly. "He is +doing what I know is right. It is the best, the most splendid idea he +has ever had. I think that if nothing comes of it," she added, leaning +forward so that her eyes met his, "I think that if nothing comes of it, +it will break my heart." + +Maraton was a little more serious for a few minutes. She waited in some +anxiety for him to speak. When he did so, she realised that there was a +new gravity in his face and in his tone. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he said, "I am afraid that there is very little hope +of our coming to any agreement. You must remember that when I promised +to come here--" + +"Oh, I know that!" she interrupted. "Only I wish that we had a little +longer time. You think that my interest in the people is an amateurish +affair, half sentimental and half freakish, don't you? You were +probably surprised to hear that I had ever read a volume of political +economy in my life. But I have. I have studied things. I have read +dozens and dozens of books on Sociology, and Socialism, and Syndicalism, +and every conceivable subject that bears upon the relations between your +class and ours, and I can't come to any but one conclusion. There is +only one logical conclusion. Violent methods are useless. The +betterment of the poor must come about gradually. If religion hadn't +interfered, things would have been far better now, even." + +He looked at her, a little startled. + +"It seems strange to hear you say that," he remarked. + +"Strange only because you will think of me as a dilettante," she replied +swiftly. "I have some sort of a brain. I have thought of these +matters, talked of them with my uncle, with many others whom even you +would admit to be clever men. I, too, see that charity and charitable +impulses have perhaps been the greatest drawback of the day to a +scientific betterment of the people. I, too, want to see the thing done +by laws and not by impulses." + +"You and how many more," he sighed, "and, alas! this is an age of +majorities. People talk a good deal. I wonder how many of your hateful +middle class would give up a tithe of their luxuries to add to the +welfare of the others. There isn't a person breathing with so little +real feeling for the slaves of the world, as your middle-class +manufacturer, your tradesman. That is why, in the days to come, he will +be the person who is going to suffer most." + +Maraton was appealed to from across the table with reference to some of +the art treasures which were reputed to have found their way from Italy +to New York. He gave at once the information required, speaking +fluently and with the appreciative air of a connoisseur, of many of the +pictures which were under discussion. Soon afterwards, Lady Grenside +rose and the men drew up their chairs. The evening papers had arrived +and there was a general air of seriousness. Mr. Foley sent one to +Maraton, who glanced at the opening page upon which his name was +displayed in large type: + +FIVE MILLION WORKERS WAIT FOR + +MARATON! + +WHAT THE STRIKE MAY MEAN. + +HOME SECRETARY LEAVES POST MANCHESTER. + +TO-MORROW. + +ILLEGAL STRIKES BILL TO RE PROPOSED + +ON MONDAY. + +Maraton only glanced at the paper and put it on one side. There was a +little constraint. One or two who had not known of his identity were +glancing curiously in his direction. Mr. Foley smiled at him +pleasantly. + +"You may drink your port without fear, Mr. Maraton," he said. "We live +in civilised ages. A thousand years ago, you would certainly have had +some cause for suspicion!" + +Maraton raised his glass to his lips and sipped the wine critically. + +"I am afraid," he remarked, with a gleam in his eyes, "that there are a +good many of you who may be wishing that they could set back time a +thousand years!" + +Mr. Foley shook his head. + +"No," he decided, "to-day's principles are the best. We argue away what +is wrong in the minds of our enemies, and we take unto ourselves what +they bring us of good. If you would rather, Mr. Maraton, we will not +talk politics at all. On the other hand, the news to-night is serious. +Armley here is wondering what the actual results will be if Sheffield, +Leeds, and Manchester stand together, and the railway strike comes at +the same time." + +"I do not know that I wonder at all," Lord Armley declared. "The result +will be ruin. + +"There is no such thing as permanent destruction," Maraton objected. +"The springs of human life are never crushed. Sometimes a generation +must suffer that succeeding ones may be blest." + +"The question is," Mr. Foley said, holding up his wine-glass, "how far +we are justified in experiments concerning which nothing absolute can be +known, experiments of so disastrous a nature." + +A servant entered and made a communication to Mr. Foley, who turned at +once to Maraton. + +"It is your secretary," he announced, "who has arrived from London with +some letters." + +Maraton at once followed the servant from the room. Mr. Foley, too, +rose to his feet. + +"In ten minutes or so," he declared, "I shall follow you. We can have +our chat quietly in the study." + +Maraton followed the butler across the hall and found himself ushered +into a room at the back of the house--a room lined with books; with +French windows, wide open, leading out on to the lawn; a room +beautifully cool and odoriferous with the perfume of roses. A single +lamp was burning upon a table; for the rest, the apartment seemed full +of the soft blue twilight of the summer night. Maraton came to a +standstill with an exclamation of surprise. A tall, very slim figure in +plain dark clothes had turned from the French windows and was standing +there now, her face turned towards him a little eagerly, a strange light +upon her pale cheeks and in the eyes which seemed to shine at him almost +feverishly out of the sensuous twilight. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"Julia!" Maraton exclaimed. + +"Aaron was run over just as he was starting," she explained quickly. +"He is not hurt badly, but he wasn't able to catch the train. He had an +important letter from Manchester and one from the committee for you. We +thought it best that I should bring them. I hope we decided rightly." + +She was standing out of the circle of the lamplight, in the shadows of +the room. There was a queer nervousness about her manner, a strained +anxiety in the way her eyes scarcely left his face, which puzzled him. + +"It is very kind of you," he said, as he took the letters. "Please sit +down while I look at them." + +The first was dated from the House of Commons: + +"_Dear Mr. Maraton:_ + +"At a committee meeting held this afternoon here, it was resolved that I +should write to you to the following effect. + +"We understood that you were coming over here entirely in the interests +of the great cause of labour, of which we, the undersigned, are the +accredited representatives in this country. Since your arrival, +however, you have preserved an independent attitude which has given +cause to much anxiety on our part. After declining to attend a meeting +at the Clarion Hall, we find you there amongst the audience, and you +address them in direct opposition to the advice which we were giving +them authoritatively. We specially invited you to be present at a +meeting of this committee to-day, in order that a definite plan of +campaign might be formulated before your visit to Manchester. You have +not accepted our invitation, and we understand that you are now staying +at the private house of the Prime Minister, notwithstanding our request +that you should not interview, or be interviewed by any representative +of the Government without one of our committee being present. + +"We wish to express our dissatisfaction with the state of affairs, and +to say that should you be still intending to address the meeting at +Manchester on Monday night, we demand an explanation with you before you +go on to the platform. We understand that the residence of Mr. Foley +is only sixty miles from London. If you are still desirous of acting +with us, we beg you, upon receipt of this letter, to ask for a motor car +and to return here to London. We shall all be at number 17, Notting +Hill, until midnight or later, telephone number 178, so that you can +telephone that you are on the way. Failing your coming, some of us will +be at the Midland Hotel, Manchester, from mid-day on Monday. + +"I am, + +"Faithfully yours, + +"RICHARD GRAVELING, + +"Secretary. + +"For + +PETER DALE, Chairman, + +ABRAHAM WEAVEL, + +SAMUEL BORDEN, + +HENRY CULVAIN. + + +The second one was from Manchester: + + +"Dear Sir: + +"We understand that you will be arriving in Manchester about mid-day on +Monday. We think it would be best if you were to descend from the train +either at Derby or any adjacent station, as no police force which could +possibly be raised in the county, will be sufficient to control the +crowds of people who will gather in the streets to welcome you. + +"We beg that you will send us a telegram, informing us by what, train +you are travelling, and we will send a messenger to Derby, who will +confer with you as to the best means of reaching the rooms which we are +providing for you. + +"Anticipating your visit, + +"I am, + +"Faithfully yours, + +"WILLIAM PRESTON, + +"Secretary Manchester Labour Party." + + +Maraton replaced the letters in their envelopes and turned with them in +his hand, towards Julia. She had moved a little towards the open French +windows. Every one seemed to have made their way out on to the lawn. +Chinese lanterns were hanging from some of the trees and along the +straight box hedge that led to the rose gardens. The women were +strolling about in their evening gowns, without wraps or covering, and +the men had joined them. Servants were passing coffee around, served +from a table on which stood a little row of bottles, filled with various +liqueurs. Some one in the drawing-room was singing, but the voice was +suddenly silenced. Every one turned their heads. A little further back +in the woods, a nightingale had commenced to sing. + +"You are tired," Maraton whispered. + +She shook her head. The strained, anxious look was still in her face. + +"No," she replied in a low tone, "I am not tired." + +"There is something the matter," he insisted, "something, I am sure. +Won't you sit down, and may I not order some refreshment for you? The +people here are very hospitable." + +Her gesture of dissent was almost peremptory. + +"No!" + +The monosyllable had a sting which surprised him. + +"Tell me what it is?" he begged. + +She opened her lips and closed them again. He saw then the rising and +falling of her bosom underneath that black stuff gown. She stretched +out her hand towards the gardens. Somehow or other, she seemed to grow +taller. + +"I do not understand this," she said. "I do not understand your being +here, one of them, dressed like them, speaking their language, sharing +their luxuries. It is a great blow to me. It is perhaps because I am +foolish, but it tortures me!" + +"But isn't that a little unreasonable?" he asked her quietly. "To +accomplish anything in this world, it is necessary to know more than one +side of life." + +"But this--this," she cried hysterically, "is the side which has made +our blood boil for generations! These women in silk and laces, these +idle, pleasure-loving men, this eating and drinking, this luxury in +beautiful surroundings, with ears deafened to all the mad, sobbing cries +of the world! This is their life day by day. You have been in the +wilderness, you have seen the life of those others, you have the feeling +for them in your heart. Can you sit at table with these people and wear +their clothes, and not feel like a hypocrite?" + +"I assure you," Maraton replied, "that I can." + +She was trembling slightly. She had never seemed to him so tall. Her +eyes now were ablaze. She had indeed the air of a prophetess. + +"They are ignorant men, they who sent you that letter," she continued, +pointing to it, "but they have the truth. Do you know what they are +saying?" + +Maraton inclined his head gravely. He felt that he knew very well what +they were saying. She did not give him time, however, to interrupt. + +"They are saying that you are to be bought, that that is why you are +here, that Mr. Foley will pay a great price for you. They are saying +that all those hopes we had built upon your coming, are to be dashed +away. They say that you are for the flesh-pots. I daren't breathe a +word of this to Aaron," she added hurriedly, "or I think that he would +go mad. He is blind with passionate love for you. He does not see the +danger, he will not believe that you are not as a god." + +Maraton looked past her into the gardens, away into the violet sky. The +nightingale was singing now clearly and wonderfully. Perhaps, for a +moment, his thoughts strayed from the great battle of life. Perhaps his +innate sense and worship of beauty, the artist in the man, which was the +real thing making him great in his daily work, triumphed apart from any +other consideration. The music of life was in his veins. Soft and +stately, Elisabeth, standing a little apart, was looking in upon them, +an exquisite figure with a background of dark green trees. + +"When you faced death in Chicago," Julia went on, her voice quivering +with the effort she was making to keep it low, "when you offered your +body to the law and preached fire and murder with your lips, you did it +for the sake of the people. There was nothing in life so glorious to +you, then, as the one great cause. That was the man we hoped to see. +Are you that man?" + +Maraton's thoughts came back. He moved a little towards her. Her hand +shot out as though to keep him at a distance. + +"Are you that man?" she repeated. + +Her thin form was shaken with stifled sobs. + +"I hope so," he answered gravely. "My ways are not the ways to which +you have been accustomed. In my heart I believe that I see further into +the real truth than some of those very ignorant friends of yours who +have been sent into Parliament by the operatives they represent; further +even than you, Julia, handicapped by your sex, with your eyes fixed, day +by day, only upon the misery of life. You blame me because I am here +amongst these people as an equal. Listen. Is one responsible for their +birth and instincts? I tell you now what I have told to no one, for no +one has ever ventured to ask me twice of my parentage. I was born, in a +sense, as these people were born. I cannot help it if, finding it +advisable to come amongst them, I find their ways easy. That is all. I +came here to keep a promise to a man who is, in his way, a great +statesman. He is Prime Minister of our country. He has, without a +doubt, so far as it is possible for such a man to have it there at all, +the cause of the people at his heart. Is it for me to ignore him, to +leave what he would say to me unsaid, to pull down the pillars which +have kept this a proud country for many hundreds of years, without even +listening? Remember that if I speak at Manchester the things that are +in my heart, this country, for your time and mine, must perish. Of that +I am sure. That has been made clear to me. Do you wonder, Julia, that, +before I take that last step, I lift every stone, I turn over every +page, I listen to every word which may be spoken by those who have the +right to speak? That is why I am here. On Monday morning I leave. On +Monday night I speak to the people in Manchester." + +She listened to him very much as a prisoner at the bar might listen to a +judge who reasons before he pronounces sentence, and her face became as +the face of that prisoner might become, who detects some leniency of +tone, some softening of manner, on the part of the arbiter of his fate. +She ceased to tremble, her lips relaxed, her eyes grew softer and +softer. She came a step nearer, resting her finger-tips upon a little +table, her body leaning towards him. He had a queer vision of her for a +moment--no longer the prophetess, a touch of the Delilah in the soft +sweetness of her eyes. + +"Oh, forgive me!" she begged. "I was foolish. Forgive me!" + +He smiled at her reassuringly. + +"There is nothing to forgive," he insisted. "You asked for an +explanation to which you had a right. I have tried to give it to you. +Indeed, Julia, you need have no fear. Whatever I decide in life will be +what I think best for our cause." + +The shadow of fear once more trembled in her tone. + +"Whatever you decide," she repeated. "You will not--you will not let +them call you a deserter? You couldn't do that." + +"There isn't anything in the world," he told her quietly, "which has the +power to tempt me from doing the thing which I think best. I cannot +promise that it will be always the thing which seems right to this +committee of men," he added, touching the envelope with his forefinger. +"I cannot promise you that, but it should not worry you. You yourself +are different. It is my hope that soon you will understand me better. +I think that when that time comes you will cease to fear." + +The light in her face was wonderful. + +"Oh, I want to!" she murmured. "I want to understand you better. There +hasn't been anything in life to me like the sound of your name, like the +thought of you, since first I understood. Perhaps I am as bad as +Aaron," she sighed. "I, too, alas! am your hopeless slave." + +He moved a step nearer. This time she made no effort to retreat. Once +more she was trembling a little, but her face was soft and sweet. All +the pallor, the hard lines, the suffering seemed to have passed +miraculously out of it. A soul--a woman's soul--was shining at him out +of her eyes. It wasn't her physical self that spoke--in a way he knew +that. Yet she was calling to him, calling to him with all she +possessed, calling to him as to her master. + +He succeeded in persuading her to eat and drink, and she departed, a +little grim and unpleased, in the motor car which Mr. Foley had +insisted upon ordering round. Then Maraton strolled into the garden to +take his delayed coffee. Elisabeth came noiselessly across the turf to +his side. + +"I hope there was nothing disturbing in your letters?" she said. + +"Not very," he replied. "It is only what I expected." + +"Every one," she continued, "has been admiring your secretary. We all +thought that she had such a beautiful face." + +"She is not my secretary," he explained. "She came in place of her +brother, who met with a slight accident just as he was starting." + +Somehow or other, he fancied that Elisabeth was pleased. + +"I didn't think that it was like you to have a woman secretary," she +remarked. + +He smiled as he replied: + +"Miss Thurnbrein is a very earnest worker and a real humanitarian. She +has written articles about woman labour in London." + +"Julia Thurnbrein!" Elisabeth exclaimed. "Yes, I have read them. If +only I had known that that was she! I should have liked so much to have +talked to her. Do you think that she would come and see me, or let me +come and see her? We really do want to understand these things, and it +seems to me, somehow, that people like Julia Thurnbrein, and all those +who really understand, keep away from us wilfully. They won't exchange +thoughts. They believe that we are their natural enemies. And we +aren't, you know. There isn't any one I'd like to meet and talk with so +much as Julia Thurnbrein." + +He nodded sympathetically. + +"They are prejudiced," he admitted. "All of them are disgusted with me +for being down here. They look with grave suspicion upon my ability to +wear a dress suit. It is just that narrowness which has set back the +clock a hundred years. . . . How I like your idea of an open-air +drawing-room! Mr. Foley hasn't been looking for me, has he? I am due +in his study in three minutes." + +Her finger touched his arm. + +"Come with me for one moment," she insisted, a little abruptly. + +She led him down one of the walks--a narrow turf path, leading through +great clumps of rhododendrons. At the bottom was the wood where the +nightingale had his home. After a few paces she stopped. + +"Mr. Maraton," she said, "this may be our last serious word together, +for when you have talked with my uncle you will have made your decision. +Look at me, please." + +He looked at her. Just then the nightingale began to sing again, and +curiously enough it seemed to him that a different note had crept into +the bird's song. It was a cry for life, an absolutely pagan note, which +came to him through the velvety darkness. + +"Isn't it your theory," she whispered, "to destroy for the sake of the +future? Don't do it. Theory sometimes sounds so sublime, but the +present is actually here. Be content to work piecemeal, to creep +upwards inch by inch. Life is something, you know. Life is something +for all of us. No man has the right to destroy it for others. He has +not even the right to destroy it for himself." + +Maraton was suddenly almost giddy. For a moment he had relaxed and that +moment was illuminating. Perhaps she saw the fire which leapt into his +eyes. If she did, she never quailed. Her head was within a few inches +of his, his arms almost touching her. She saw but she never moved. If +anything, she drew a little nearer. + +"Speak to me," she begged. "Give me some promise, some hope." + +He was absolutely speechless. A wave of reminiscence had carried him +back into the study, face to face with an accuser. He read meaning in +Julia's words now, a meaning which at the time they had not possessed. +It was true that he was being tempted. It was true that there was such +a thing in the world as temptation, a live thing to the strong as well +as to the weak. + +"You could be great," she murmured. "You could be a statesman of whom +we should all be proud. In years to come, people would understand, they +would know that you had chosen the nobler part. And then for +yourself--" + +"For myself," he interrupted, "for myself--what?" + +Her lips parted and closed again. She looked at him very steadily. + +"Don't you think," she asked quietly, "that you are, more than most men, +the builder of your own life, the master of your own fate, the +conqueror--if, indeed, you desired to possess?" + +She was gone, disappearing through a winding path amongst the bushes +which he had never noticed. He heard the trailing of her skirts; the +air around him was empty save for a breath of the perfume shaken from +her gown, and the song of the bird. Then he heard her call to him. + +"This way, Mr. Maraton--just a little to your left. The path leads +right out on to the lawn." + +"Is it a maze?" he asked. + +"A very ordinary one," she called back gaily. "Follow me and I will +lead you out." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Mr. Foley and Lord Armley were waiting together in the library--not the +smaller apartment into which Julia had been shown, but a more spacious, +almost a stately room in the front part of the house. Upon Maraton's +entrance, Lord Armley changed his position, sitting further back amongst +the shadows in a low easy-chair. Maraton took his place so that he was +between the two men. It was Lord Armley who asked the first question. + +"Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you an Englishman?" + +"I think that I may call myself so," Maraton replied, with a smile. "I +was born in America, but my parents were English." + +"I asked," Lord Armley continued, "whether you were an Englishman, for +two reasons. One was--well, perhaps you might call it curiosity; the +other because, if you are an Englishman, Mr. Foley and I are going to +make a strong and I hope successful appeal to your patriotism." + +"I am afraid," Maraton replied, "that you will be appealing to a +sentiment of which I am ignorant." + +"Do you mean," Mr. Foley asked, "that you have no impulse of affection +for your own country?" + +"For my country as she exists at present, none at all," Maraton +answered. "That is where I am afraid we shall find this conference so +unsatisfactory. I am not subject to any of the ordinary convictions of +life." + +"That certainly makes the task of arguing with you a little difficult," +Mr. Foley admitted. "We had hoped that the vision of this country +overrun by a triumphant enemy, our towns and our pleasant places in the +hands of an alien race, our women subject to insults from them, our men +treated with scorn--we had an idea that the vision of these things might +count with you for something." + +"For nothing at all," Maraton replied. "I am not sure that a successful +invasion of this country would not be one of the best medicines she +could possibly have." + +"Are you serious, sir?" Lord Armley asked grimly. + +"Absolutely," Maraton answered, without a second's hesitation. "You +people have, after all, only an external feeling for the deficiencies of +your social system. You don't feel, really--you don't understand. To +me, England at the present day--the whole of civilization, indeed, but +we are speaking now only of England--is suffering from an awful disease. +To me she is like a leper. I cannot think that any operation which +could cure her is too severe. She may have to spend centuries in the +hospital, but some day the light will come." + +"When you talk like that," Mr. Foley declared, "you seem to us, Mr. +Maraton, to pass outside the pale of logical argument. But we want to +understand you. You mean that for the sake of altering our social +conditions, you would, if you thought it necessary, let this country be +conquered, plunge her for a hundred years or more into misery deeper +than any she has yet known? What good do you suppose could come of +this? The poor who are poor now would starve then. From whom would +come the mammoth war indemnity we should have to pay?" + +"Not from the poor," Maraton replied. "That is one of my theories. It +would come from the very class whom I would willingly see enfeebled--the +greedy, grasping, middle class. The poor must exist automatically. +They could not exist on lower wages; therefore, they will not get lower +wages. If there is no employment for them, they will help themselves to +the means for life. If there is money in the country, they have a right +to a part of it and they will take it. The unfit amongst them will die. +The unfit are better dead." + +"This is a dangerous doctrine, Mr. Maraton," Lord Armley remarked. + +"It is a primitive law," Maraton answered. "Put yourself down amongst +the people, with a wife by your side and children crying to you for +bread. Would you call yourself a man if you let them starve, if you +sent your children sobbing away from you when there was bread to be had +for the fighting, bread to be taken from those who had also meat? I +think not. I am not afraid of plunging the country into disaster. It +is my belief that the sufferings and the loss which would ensue would +not fall upon the class who are already dwelling in misery." + +Mr. Foley moved nervously to the mantelpiece and helped himself to a +cigarette. + +"Mr. Maraton," he said, "we will not argue on these lines. I like to +feel my feet upon the earth. I like to deal with the things one knows +about. Grant me this, at least; that it is possible to reach the end at +which you are striving, by milder means?" + +"It may be," Maraton admitted. "I am not sure. Milder means have been +tried for a good many generations. I tell you frankly that I do not +believe it is possible by legislation to redistribute the wealth of the +world." + +Lord Armley, from his seat amongst the shadows, smiled sarcastically. + +"You, too, Mr. Maraton," he murmured. "What is your answer, I wonder, +to the oft quoted question? You may redistribute wealth, but how do you +propose to keep it in a state of equilibrium?" + +Maraton smiled. + +"There would have to be three, perhaps half-a-dozen--who can tell how +many?--redistributions by violent means," he replied, "but remember that +all this time, education, clean living, freedom from sordid anxieties, +would be telling upon the lower orders. As their physical condition +improved, so would their minds. As the conditions under which men live +become more equal, so will their brains become more equal and their +power of acquiring wealth. This, remember, may be the work of a hundred +years--perhaps more--but it is the end at which we should aim." + +"You absolutely mean, then," Mr. Foley persisted, "to destroy the +welfare of the country for this generation and perhaps the next, in +order that a new people may arise, governed according to your methods, +in ages which neither you nor I nor any of us will ever see?" + +"That is what I mean," Maraton assented. "Need I remind you that if we +had not possessed in the past men who gave their lives for the sake of +posterity, the nations of the world would be even in a more backward +condition than they are to-day?" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Mr. Maraton," he said, "now I am going to ask you this question. +To-morrow you go to Manchester to pronounce your doctrines. To-morrow +you are going to incite the working people of England practically to +revolt. Are you going to tell them that it is for posterity they must +strike? Do you mean, when you thunder at them from the platforms, to +tell them the truth?--to tell them that the good which you promise is +not for them nor for their children, nor their children's children, but +for the unborn generations? Do you mean to tell them this?" + +Maraton was silent. Lord Armley was watching him closely. Mr. Foley's +eyes were bright, and a little flush had stained the parchment pallor of +his cheeks. He was feeling all the thrill of the fencer who has +touched. + +"I cannot convince you, Mr. Maraton," he went on, "that yours is not a +splendid dream, an idyllic vision, which would fade from the canvas +before even the colours were dry, but you have common sense, and I hope +at least I can persuade you to see this. You won't rally the working +men of England to your standard under that motto. That's why their +leaders are ignorant and commonplace men. They know very well that it's +to the pockets of their hearers they must appeal. A shilling a week +more now is what they want, not to have their children born to a better +life, and their children's children move on the upward plane. Human +nature isn't like that, especially the human nature which I admit has +suffered from the selfishness and greediness of the middle classes +through all these years. The people aren't ready to dream dreams. They +want money in their pockets, cash, so much a week--nothing else. I tell +you that self-interest is before the eyes of every one of those +Lancashire operatives to whom you are going to speak. An hour or so +less work a week, an ounce more of tobacco, a glass of beer when he +feels inclined, a little more money in the bank--that's what he wants." + +"You may be speaking the truth, Mr. Foley," Maraton confessed quietly. +"At any rate, you have voiced some of my deepest fears. I know that I +cannot bring the people to my standard by showing them the whole of my +mind. But why should I? If I know that my cause is just, if I know +that it is for the good of the world, isn't it my duty to conceal as +much as I find it wise to conceal, to keep my hand to the plough, even +though I drive it through the fields of devastation?" + +"Then your mission is not an honest one," Lord Armley declared suddenly. +"It is dishonest that good things may come of it." + +"It is possible to reason like that," Maraton admitted. + +"Now, listen," Mr. Foley continued. "I will show you the other way. I +will look with you into the future. I cannot agree with all your views +but I, too, would like to see the diminution of capital from the hands +of the manufacturers and the middle classes, and an increase of +prosperity to the operatives. I would like to see the gulf between them +narrowed year by year. I would like to see the working man everywhere +established in quarters where life is wholesome and pleasant. I would +like to see his schools better, even, than they are at present. I would +like to see him, in the years to come, a stronger, a more capable, a +more dignified unit of the Empire. He can only be made so by +prosperity. Therefore, I wish for him prosperity. You want to sow the +country red with ruin and fire, and there isn't any man breathing, not +even you, can tell exactly what the outcome of it all might be. I want +to work at the same thing more gently. Last year for the first time, I +passed a Bill in Parliament which interfered between the relations of +master and man. In a certain trade dispute I compelled the employers, +by Act of Parliament, to agree to a vital principle upon which the men +insisted. The night I drove home from the House I said to Lady +Elisabeth, my niece, that that measure, small though it was, marked a +new era in the social conditions of the country. It did. What I have +commenced, I am prepared to go on with. I am prepared by every logical +and honest means to legislate for labour. I am prepared to legislate in +such a way that the prosperity of the manufacturer, all the +manufacturers in this country, must be shared by the workpeople. I am +prepared to fight, tooth and nail, against twenty per cent dividends on +capital and twenty-five shillings a week wages for the operative. There +are others in the Cabinet of my point of view. In a couple of years we +must go to the country. I am going to the country to ask for a people's +government. Go to Manchester, if you must, but talk common sense to the +people. Let them strike where they are subject to wrongs, and I promise +you that I am on their side, and every pressure that my Government can +bring to bear upon the employers, shall be used in their favour. You +shall win--you as the champion of the men, shall win all along the line. +You shall improve the conditions of every one of those industries in the +north. But--it must be done legitimately and without sinister +complications. I know what is in your mind, Mr. Maraton, quite well. +I know your proposal. It is in your mind to have the railway strike, +the coal strike, the ironfounders' strike, and the strike of the +Lancashire operatives, all take place on the same day. You intend to +lay the country pulseless and motionless. You won't accept terms. You +court disaster--disaster which you refer to as an operation. Don't do +it. Try my way. I offer you certain success. I offer you my alliance, +a seat in Parliament at once, a place in my Government in two years' +time. What more can you ask for? What more can you do for the people +than fight for them side by side with me?" + +Maraton had moved a little nearer to the window. He was looking out +into the night. Very faintly now in the distant woods he could still +catch the song of the nightingale. Almost he fancied in the shadows +that he could catch sight of Julia's strained face leaning towards him, +the face of the prophetess, warning him against the easy ways, calling +to him to remember. His principles had been to him a part of his life. +What if he should be wrong? What if he should bring misery and +suffering upon millions upon millions, for the sake of a generation +which might never be born? There was something practical about Mr. +Foley's offer, an offer which could have been made only by a great man. +His brain moved swiftly. As he stood there, he seemed to look out upon +a vast plain of misery, a country of silent furnaces, of smokeless +chimneys, a country drooping and lifeless, dotted with the figures of +dying men and women. What an offering! What a sacrifice? Would the +people still believe in him when the blow fell? Could he himself pass +out of life with the memory of it all in his mind, and feel that his +life's work had been good? He remained speechless. + +"Let me force one more argument upon you," Mr. Foley continued. "You +must know a little what type of mind is most common amongst Labour. I +ask you what will be the attitude of Labour towards the starvation of +the next ten or twenty years, if you should bring the ruin you threaten +upon the country? I ask you to use your common sense. Of what use +would you be? Who would listen to you? If they left you alive, would +any audience of starving men and women, looking back upon the +comparative prosperity of the past, listen to a word from your lips. +Believe me, they would not. They would be more likely, if they found +you, to rend you limb from limb. The operatives of this country are not +dreamers. They don't want to give their wives and children, and their +own selves, body and soul, for a dream. Therefore, I come back to the +sane common sense of the whole affair. By this time next year, if you +use your power to bring destruction upon this country, your name will be +loathed and detested amongst the very people for whose sake you do it." + +Maraton turned away. + +"You have put some of my own fears before me, Mr. Foley," he confessed, +"in a new and very impressive light. If I thought that I myself were +the only one who could teach, you would indeed terrify me. The +doctrines in which I believe, however, will endure, even though I should +pass." + +"Endure to be discarded and despised by all thinking men!" Lord Armley +exclaimed. + +"You may be right," Maraton admitted, slowly. "I cannot say. Will you +forgive me if I make you no answer at all to-night? My thoughts are a +little confused. You have made me see myself with your eyes, and I wish +to reconsider certain matters. Before I go, perhaps you will give me +ten minutes more to discuss them?" + +Mr. Foley was still a little flushed as they shook hands. + +"I am glad," he declared, "very glad that you are at least going to +think over what I have said. You must have common sense. I have read +your book, backwards and forwards. I have read your articles in the +American reviews and in the English papers. There is nothing more +splendid than the visions you write of, but there is no gangway across +from this world into the world of dreams, Mr. Maraton. Remember that, +and remember, too, how great your responsibility is. I have never tried +to hide from you what I believe your real power to be. I have always +said that the moment a real leader was found, the country would be in +danger. You are that leader. For God's sake, Mr. Maraton, realise +your responsibility! . . . Now shall we go back into the gardens or +into the drawing-room? My niece will sing to us, if you are fond of +music." + +Maraton excused himself and slipped out into the gardens alone. For +more than an hour he walked restlessly about, without relief, without +gaining any added clearness of vision. The atmosphere of the place +seemed to him somehow enervating. The little 'walk amongst the +rhododendrons was still fragrant 'with perfume, reminiscent of that +strange moment of emotion. The air was still languorous. Although the +nightingale's song had ceased, the atmosphere seemed still vibrating +with the music of his past song. He stood before the window of the room +where he had talked with Julia. What would she say, he wondered? Would +she think that he had sold his soul if he chose the more peaceful way? +It was a night of perplexed thoughts, confused emotions. One thing only +was clear. For the first time in his life certain dreams, which had +been as dear to him as life itself, had received a shattering blow. +Always he had spoken and acted from conviction. It was that which had +given his words their splendid force. It was that which had made the +words which he had spoken live as though they had been winged with fire. +Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he should have avoided altogether +this house of the easier ways. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +From the atmosphere of Lyndwood Park and its surroundings--fragrant, +almost epicurean--Maraton passed to the hard squalor of the great +smoke-hung city of the north. There were no beautiful women or cultured +men to bid him welcome. The Labour Member and his companion, who +hastened him out of the train at Derby and into an open motor-car, were +hard-featured Lancashire men, keen on their work and practical as the +day. As they talked together in that long, ugly ride, Maraton almost +smiled as he thought of those perfervid dreams of his which had always +been at the back of his head; that creed of life, some part of which he +had intended to unfold to the people during these few days. + +"Plain-speaking is what our folk like," John Henneford assured him, as +they sat side by side in the small open car driven by one of the +committee; "plain, honest words; sound advice, with a bit o' grit in +it." + +"'To hell with the masters!' is the motto they like best," Preston +remarked, moving his pipe to the corner of his mouth. "It's an old text +but it's an ever popular one. There's the mill where I work, now, +fourteen hundred of us. The girls average from eighteen bob to a pound +a week, men twenty-four to twenty-eight, foremen thirty-five to two +pounds. It's not much of wages. The house rent's high in these parts, +and food, too. The business has just been turned into a +company--capital three hundred thousand pounds, profits last year +forty-two thousand. That's after paying us our bit. That's the sort of +thing turns the blood of the people sour up here. It was the +aristocrats brought about the revolution in France. It will be the +manufacturers who do it here, and do it quick unless things are altered. +They tell me you're a bit of a revolutionist, Mr. Maraton." + +"I'm anything," Maraton answered, "that will do away with such profits +as you've been speaking of. I am anything which will bring a fair +share of the profits of his labour to the operative who now gets none. +I hate capital. It's a false quantity, a false value. It's got to come +back to the people. It belongs to them." + +"You're right, man," Henneford declared grimly. "How are you going to +get it back, eh? Show us. We are powerful up here. We could paralyse +trade from the Clyde to the Thames, if we thought it would do any good. +What's your text to-night, Mr. Maraton?" + +"I haven't thought," Maraton replied. "I have plenty to say to the +people though." + +"You gave 'em what for in Chicago," Preston remarked, with a grin. + +"I haven't been used to mince words," Maraton admitted. + +"There's four thousand policemen told off to look after you," Henneford +informed him. "By-the-bye, is it true that Dale and all of them are +coming up to-night?" + +Maraton nodded. + +"I wired for some of them," he assented. "So long as I am going to make +a definite pronouncement, they may as well hear it." + +"Been spending the week-end with Foley, haven't you?" Preston enquired, +closing his eyes a little. + +Maraton nodded. "Yes," he confessed, "I have been there." + +"There are many that don't think much of Foley," Henneford remarked. +"Myself I am not sure what to make of him. I think he'd be a people's +man, right enough, if it wasn't for the Cabinet." + +"I believe, in my heart," Maraton said, "that he is a people's man." + +They sped on through deserted spaces, past smoke-stained factories, +across cobbled streets, past a wilderness of small houses, grimy, +everywhere repellent. Soon they entered Manchester by the back way and +pulled up presently at a small and unimposing hotel. + +"We've taken a room for you here," Henneford announced. "It's close to +the hall, and it's quiet and clean enough. The big hotels I doubt +whether you'd ever be able to get out of, when once they found where you +were." + +"As a matter of fact," Preston added, "there's a room taken in your name +at the Midland, to put folks off a bit. We'll have to smuggle you out +here if there's any trouble to-night. The people are rare and +restless." + +"It will do very nicely, I am sure," Maraton replied. + +The place was an ordinary commercial hotel, clean apparently but +otherwise wholly unattractive. Henneford led the way up-stairs and with +some pride threw open the door of a room on the first floor. "We've got +you a sitting-room," he said. "Thought you might want to talk to these +Press people, perhaps, or do a bit of work. Your secretary's somewhere +about the place--turned up with a typewriter early this morning. And +there's a young woman--" + +"A what?" Maraton asked. + +"A young woman," Henneford continued,--"secretary's sister or +something." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Miss Thurnbrein." + +"What, the tailoress?" Preston replied. "She's a good sort. Wrote rare +stuff, she did, about her trade. They are out together, seeing the +sights. Didn't expect you quite so soon, I expect." + +Maraton looked around the little sitting-room. It was furnished with a +carpet of bright green thrown over a foundation of linoleum, a suite of +stamped magenta plush, an overmantel, gilt cornices over the windows, a +piano, a table covered with a gaudy tablecloth. On the walls were hung +some oleographs. The lighting of the room was of gas with incandescent +mantles. There had been, apparently, judging by an odour which still +remained, a great deal of beer consumed in the apartment at one time or +another. + +"Nice room, this," Mr. Henneford remarked approvingly. "Slap up, ain't +it? Your bedroom's next door, and your secretary's just round the +corner. Done you proud, I reckon. Like a royal suite, eh?" + +He laughed good-humouredly. Mr. Preston removed his pipe and rang the +bell. + +"One drink, I think," he suggested, "and we'll leave Mr. Maraton alone +for a bit. You and I'll go down to the station and meet the chaps from +London, and we'll have a meeting up here--say at five o'clock. That +suit you, Mr. Maraton?" + +"Excellently," Maraton assented. "What shall I order?" he asked, as the +waiter entered. + +Beer, whiskey and cigars were brought. Maraton asked a few eager +questions about the condition of one of the industries, and followed +Henneford to the door, talking rapidly. + +"I know so little about the state of woman labour over here," he said. +"In America they are better paid in proportion. Perhaps, if Miss +Thurnbrein is here, she will be able to give me some information." + +"You'll soon get posted up," Mr. Henneford declared. "I can see you've +got a quick way of dealing with things. So long till five o'clock, +then. There's a dozen chaps waiting down-stairs to see you. We'll +leave it to your judgment just what you want to say to the Press. Ring +the bell and have the waiter bring their cards up." + +They departed and Maraton returned to his sitting-room. He stood for a +moment looking out over the city, the roar of which came to him clearly +enough through the open window. He forgot the depressing tawdriness of +his surroundings in the exhilaration of the sound. He was back again +amongst the people, back again where the wheels of life were crashing. +The people! He drew himself up and his eyes sought the furthest limits +of that dim yellow haze. Somehow, notwithstanding a vague uneasiness +which hung about him like an effort of wounded conscience, he had a +still greater buoyancy of thought when he considered his possibly +altered attitude towards the multitude who waited for his message. He +felt his feet upon the earth with more certainty, with more implicit +realism, than in those days when he had spoken to them of the future and +had perhaps forgotten to tell them how far away that future must be. +There was something more practical about his present attitude. What +would they say here in Manchester, expecting fire and thunder from his +lips and finding him hold out the olive branch? He shrugged his +shoulders;--a useless speculation, after all. He rang the bell and +glanced through the cards which the waiter brought him. + +"I have nothing of importance to say to any reporters," he declared, +"but I will see them all for two minutes. You can show them up in the +order in which they came." + +The waiter withdrew and Maraton was left for a few moments alone. Then +the door was opened and closed again by the waiter, who made no +announcement. A man came forward--a small man, very neatly dressed, +with gold spectacles and a little black beard. Maraton welcomed him and +pointed to a chair. + +"I have nothing whatever to say to the newspapers," he explained, "until +after I have addressed my first few meetings. You probably will have +nothing to ask me then. All the same, I am very pleased to see you, and +since you have been waiting, I thought I had better have you come up, if +it were only for a moment. No one who has a great cause at their backs, +you know, can afford to disregard the Press." + +The man laid his hat upon the table. Maraton, glancing across the room +at him, was instantly conscious that this newcomer was no ordinary +person. He had a strong, intellectual forehead, a well-shaped mouth. +His voice, when he spoke, was pleasant, although his accent was +peculiar--almost foreign. + +"Mr. Maraton," his visitor began, "I thank you very much for your +courtesy, but I have nothing to do with the Press. My name is Beldeman. +I have come to Manchester especially to see you." + +Maraton nodded. + +"We are strangers, I believe?" he asked. + +"Strangers personally. No thinking man to-day is a stranger to Mr. +Maraton in any other way." + +"You are very kind," Maraton replied. "What can I do for you?" + +Beldeman glanced towards the door so as to be sure that it was closed. + +"Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you a bad-tempered man?" + +"At times," Maraton admitted. + +"I regret to see," his visitor proceeded, "that you are a man of +superior physique to mine. I am here to make you an offer which you may +consider an insult. If you are a narrow, ordinary Englishman, +obstinate, with cast-iron principles and the usual prejudices, you will +probably try to throw me down-stairs. It is part of my living to run +the risk of being thrown down-stairs." + +"I will do my best," Maraton promised him, "to restrain myself. You +have at least succeeded in exciting my curiosity." + +"I am, to look at," Mr. Beldeman continued, "an unimportant person. As +a matter of fact, I represent a very great country, and I come to you +charged with a great mission." + +Maraton became a little graver. "Go on," he said. + +"I am anxious--perhaps over-anxious," Mr. Beldeman proceeded, "that I +should put this matter before you in the most favourable light. I must +confess that I have spent hours trying to make up my mind exactly how I +should tell you my business. I have changed my mind so many times that +there is nothing left of my original intention. I speak now as the +thoughts come to me. I am here on behalf of a syndicate of +manufacturers--foreign manufacturers--to offer you a bribe." + +Maraton stood quite still upon the hearth-rug. His face showed no +emotion whatever. + +"You are, I believe," Mr. Beldeman went on, "only half an Englishman. +That is why I am hoping that you will behave like a reasonable being, +and that my person may be saved from violence. Upon your word rests the +industrial future of this country for the next ten years. If your +forges burn out and your factories are emptied, it will mean an era of +prosperity for my country, indescribable. We are great trade rivals. +We need just the opening. What we get we may not be able to hold +altogether, when trade is once more good here, but that is of no +consequence. We shall have it for a year or two, and that year or two +will mean a good many millions to us." + +Maraton's eyes began to twinkle. + +"The matter," he remarked, "becomes clearer to me. You are either the +most ingenuous person I ever met, or the most subtle. Tell me, is it a +personal bribe you have brought?" + +"It is not," Mr. Beldeman replied. "It did not occur to those in whose +employment I am, or to me, to offer you a single sixpence. I am here to +offer you, if you send your people out on strike within the next +week--the coal strike, the railway strike, the ironfounders, the +smelters, from the Clyde southwards--one million pounds as a +subscription to your strike funds." + +"You have it with you?" Maraton enquired, after a moment. + +"I have four drafts for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds each, in +my pocket-book at the present moment," Mr. Beldeman declared. "They +are payable to your order. You can accept my offer and pay them into +your private banking account or the banking account of any one of your +Trades' Unions. There is not the slightest doubt but that they will be +met." + +"Are there any terms at all connected with this little subscription?" + +"None," Beldeman replied. + +"And your object," Maraton added, "is to benefit through our loss of +trade?" + +"Entirely," Mr. Beldeman assented, without a quiver upon his face. + +Maraton was silent for a moment. + +"I do not see my way absolutely clear," he announced, "to recommending a +railway strike at the present moment. If I acceded to all the others, +what would your position be? The railway strike is of little +consequence to a foreign nation. The coal strike, and the iron and +steel works of Sheffield and Leeds closed--that's where English trade +would suffer most, especially if the cotton people came out." + +Mr. Beldeman shook his head slowly. "My conditions," he said, "embrace +the railways." + +"Somehow, I fancied that they would," Maraton remarked. "Tell me why?" + +Beldeman rose slowly to his feet. + +"Are you an Englishman?" he asked. + +"I can't deny it," Maraton replied. "I was born abroad. Why are you so +interested in my nationality?" + +Beldeman shrugged his shoulders. + +"I cannot tell you. Just an idea. I do not wish to say too much. I +wish you only to consider what a million pounds will do to help your +work people. You, they say, are one of those who love the people as +your own children. A million pounds may enable them to hold out until +they can secure practically what terms they like. Those million pounds +are yours to-day, yours for the people, if you pledge your word to a +universal strike." + +"Including the railways?" + +"Including the railways," Mr. Beldeman assented. + +Maraton smiled quietly. + +"I do not ask you," he said, "what country you represent. I think that +it is not necessary. You have come to me rather as though I were a +dictator. There are others besides myself with whom influence rests." + +"It is you only who count," Mr. Beldeman declared. "I am thankful that +at any rate you have met my offer in a reasonable spirit. Accept it, +Mr. Maraton. What concern have you for other things save only for the +welfare of the people?" + +"I have considered this matter," Maraton remarked, "many, many times. A +universal strike, absolutely universal so far as regards transport and +coal, would place the country in a paralytic and helpless condition. +Still, so many people have assured us that an onslaught from any foreign +country is never seriously to be considered, that I have come to believe +it myself. What is your opinion?" + +Mr. Beldeman remained silent for a few moments. + +"One cannot tell," he said. "The stock of coal available for your home +fleet happens to be rather low just now. One cannot tell what might +happen. Do you greatly care? Wasn't it you who, in one of your +speeches, pointed out that a war in your country would be welcome? That +the class who would suffer would be the class who are your great +oppressors--the manufacturers, the middle classes--and that with their +downfall the working man would struggle upwards? Do you believe, Mr. +Maraton, that a war would hurt your own people?" + +"My own ideas," Maraton replied, "are in a state of transition. +However, your offer is declined." + +"Declined without conditions?" Mr. Beldeman enquired, taking up his +hat. + +"For the present it is declined without conditions. I will be quite +frank with you. Your offer doesn't shock me as it might do if I were a +right-feeling Imperialist of the proper Jingo type. I believe that a +week ago I should have considered it very seriously indeed. Its +acceptance would have been in accordance with my beliefs. And yet, +since you have made it, you have made me wonder more than ever whether I +have been right. I find a revulsion of feeling in considering it, which +I cannot understand." + +"I may approach you again," Mr. Beldeman asked, "if circumstances +should change? Possibly you yourself may, upon reflection, appreciate +my suggestion more thoroughly." + +Maraton was silent for a moment. When he looked up he was alone. Mr. +Beldeman had not waited for his reply. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +One by one, Maraton got rid at last of the little crowd of journalists +who had been waiting for him below. The last on the list was perhaps +the most difficult. He pressed very hard for an answer to his direct +question. + +"War or peace, Mr. Maraton? Which is it to be? Just one word, that's +all." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"In less than an hour, the delegates from London will be here," he +announced. "We shall hold a conference and come to our decision then." + +"Will their coming make any real difference?" the journalist persisted. +"You hadn't much to say to delegates in America." + +"The Labour Party over here is better organised, in some respects," +Maraton told him. "I have nothing to say until after the conference." + +His persistent visitor drew a little nearer to him. + +"There's a report about that you've been staying with Foley." + +"And how does that affect the matter?" Maraton enquired. + +The journalist looked him in the face. + +"The men never had a leader yet," he said, "whom Officialdom didn't +spoil." All this time Maraton was standing with the door in one hand and +his other hand upon the shoulder of the man whom he was endeavouring to +get rid of. His grasp suddenly tightened. The door was closed and the +reporter was outside. Maraton turned to Aaron, with whom, as yet, he +had scarcely exchanged a word. The latter was sitting at a table, +sorting letters. + +"How long will those fellows be?" he asked. + +Aaron glanced at the clock. + +"On their way here by now, I should say," he replied. "They are all +coming. They tried to leave David Ross behind, but he wouldn't have +it." + +Maraton nodded grimly. + +"Too many," he muttered. + +Aaron leaned a little forward in his place. His long, hatchet-shaped +face was drawn and white. His eyes were full of a pitiful anxiety. + +"They were talking like men beside themselves at the Clarion and up at +Dale's house last night," he said. "They were mad about your having +gone to Foley's. Graveling--he was the worst--he's telling them all +that you're up to some mischief on your own account. They are all +grumbling like a lot of sore heads. If they could stop your speaking +here to-night, I believe they would. They're a rotten lot. Before they +got their places in Parliament, they were perfect firebrands. Blast +them!" + +"And you, Aaron--" + +Maraton suddenly paused. The door was softly opened, and Julia stood +there. She was wearing her hat and coat, but her hands were gloveless; +she had just returned from the street. + +"Come in," Maraton invited. "So you're looking after Aaron, are you?" + +"I couldn't keep away," Julia said simply. "I thought I'd better let +you both know that the street below is filling up. They've heard that +you are here. People were running away from before the Midland as I +came round the corner." + +Maraton glanced out of the window. There was a hurrying crowd fast +approaching the front of the hotel. He drew back. + +"I was just on the point of asking Aaron," he remarked, "exactly what it +is that is expected from me to-night. Tell me what is in your mind?" + +Her face lit up as she looked at him. + +"We are like children," she replied, "all of us. We have too much +faith. I think that what we are expecting is a miracle." + +"Is it wise?" Maraton asked quietly. "Don't you think that it may lead +to disappointment?" + +She considered the thought for a moment and brushed it away. + +"We are not afraid, Aaron and I." + +"You are belligerents, both of you." + +"And so are you," Julia retorted swiftly. "What was it you said in +Chicago about the phrase-makers?--the Socialism that flourished in the +study while women and children starved in the streets? Those are the +sort of things that we remember, Aaron and I." + +"This is a country of slow progress," Maraton reminded them. "One +builds stone by stone. Listen to me carefully, you two. Since you have +had understanding, your eyes have been fixed upon this one immense +problem. I have a question to ask you concerning it. Shall I destroy +for the sake of the unborn generations, or shall I use all my cunning +and the power of the people to lead them a little further into the light +during their living days? What would they say themselves, do you think? +Would one in a hundred be content to sacrifice himself for a principle?" + +"Who knows that the millennium would be so long delayed?" Julia +exclaimed. "A few years might see Society reconstituted, with new laws +and a new humanity." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Don't make any mistake about that," he said. "If I press the levers +upon which to-day my hand seems to rest, this country will be laid waste +with famine and riot and conquest. An hour ago a little man was here, a +little, black-bearded man with a quiet voice, charged with a great +mission. He came to offer me, on behalf of a syndicate of foreign +manufacturers, a million pounds towards our universal strike." + +They both gasped. The thing was surely incredible! + +"An incident like that," Maraton continued, "may show you what this +country must lose, for her rivals do not give away a million pounds for +nothing." + +Julia's eyes were fixed upon his. Her face was full of strained +anxiety. + +"You talk," she murmured, "as though you had doubts, as though you were +hesitating. Forgive me--we have waited so long for to-day--we and all +the others." + +"Could any one," he demanded, "stand in the position I stand in to-day +and not have doubts?" + +Her eyes flashed at him. + +"Yes," she cried, "a prophet could! A real man could--the man we +thought you were, could!" + +Aaron leaned forward, aghast. His monosyllable was charged with +terrified reproach. + +"Julia!" + +She turned upon him. + +"You, too! You weren't at Lyndwood, were you? . . . Doubts!" she +went on fiercely, her eyes flashing once more upon Maraton. "How can +you fire their blood if there are doubts in your heart? So long these +people have waited. No wonder their hearts are sick and their brains +are clogged, their will is tired. Prophet after prophet they have +followed blindly through the wilderness. Always it has been the prophet +who has been caught up into the easier ways, and the people who have +sunk back into misery." + +She fell suddenly upon her knees. Before he could stop her, she was at +his feet, her face straining up to his. + +"Forgive me!" she cried. "For the love of the women and the little +children, don't fail us now! If you don't say the word to-night, it +will never be spoken, never in your day nor mine. It isn't legislation +they want any more. It's revolution, the cleansing fires! The land +where the sun shines lies on the other side of the terrible way. Lead +them across. Don't try the devious paths. They have filled you with +the poison of common sense. It isn't common sense that's wanted. It's +only an earthquake can bring out the spirit of the people and make them +see and hold what belongs to them." + +Maraton lifted her up. Her body was quivering. She lay, for a moment, +passive in his arms. Then she sprang away. She stood with her back to +him, looking out of the window. + +"The streets are full of people," she said quietly. "Their eyes are all +turned here. Poor people!" + +Maraton crossed the room and stood by her side. He spoke very gently. +He even took her hand, which lay like a lump of ice in his. + +"Julia," he whispered, "you lose hope and trust too soon." + +"You have spoken of doubts," she answered, in a low tone. "The prophet +has no doubts." + +There was a sound of voices outside, of heavy footsteps on the stairs. +They heard Graveling's loud, unpleasant voice. The delegates had +arrived! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Maraton, with the peculiar sensitiveness of the artist to an altered +atmosphere, was keenly conscious of the change when Julia had left the +room and the delegates had entered. One by one they shook hands with +Maraton and took their places around the table. They had no appearance +of men charged with a great mission. Henneford, who had met them at the +station, was beaming with hospitality. Peter Dale was full of gruff +good-humour and jokes. Graveling alone entered with a scowl and sat +with folded arms and the air of a dissentient. Borden, who complained +of feeling train-sick, insisted upon drinks being served, and Culvain, +with a notebook upon his knee, ostentatiously sharpened a pencil. It +was very much like a meeting of a parish council. Ross alone amongst +the delegates had the absorbed air of a man on the threshold of great +things, and Aaron, from his seat behind Maraton, watched his master all +the time with strained and passionate attention. + +"In the first place," Peter Dale began, "we've no wish to commence this +meeting with any unpleasantness. At the same time, Mr. Maraton, we did +think that after that letter of ours you'd have seen your way clear to +come up to London and cut short that visit to Mr. Foley. We were all +there waiting for you, and there were some of us that didn't take it +altogether in what I might call a favourable spirit, that you chose to +keep away." + +"To tell you the truth," Maraton replied calmly, "I did not see the +faintest reason why I should shorten my visit to Mr. Foley. We had +arranged to meet here to-day and that seemed to me to be quite +sufficient." + +Peter Dale tugged at his beard for a moment. + +"I am not wishful," he reiterated, "to commence a discussion which might +lead to disagreement between us. We'll drop the matter for the present. +Is that agreeable to everybody?" + +There was a little murmur of assent. Graveling only was stolidly +silent. Peter Dale struck the table with his fist. + +"Now then, lads," he said, "let's get on with it." + +"This being mainly my show," John Henneford declared, "I'll come and sit +at your right hand, Mr. Maraton. You've got all the papers I've sent +you about the cotton workers?" + +"I have looked them through," Maraton replied, "but most of their +contents were familiar to me. I made a study of the condition of all +your industries so far as I could, last year." + +"Between you and me," Peter Dale grumbled, "this meeting ought to have +been held in Newcastle and not Manchester. These cotton chaps of yours, +Henneford, ain't doing so badly. It's my miners that want another leg +up." + +Henneford struck the table with his fist. + +"Rot!" he exclaimed. "Your miners have just had a turn. Half-a-crown a +week extra, and a minimum wage--what more do you want? And a piece of +plate and a nice fat cheque for Mr. Dale," he added, turning to the +others and winking. + +Peter Dale beamed good-humouredly upon them. + +"Well," he retorted, "I earned it. You fellows should organise in the +same way. It took me a good many years' hard work, I can tell you, to +bring my lot up to the scratch. Anyway, here we are, and Manchester +it's got to be this time. In an hour, Mr. Maraton, the secretary of +the Manchester Labour Party will be here. He's got two demand scales +made out for you to look through. Your job is to work the people up so +that they drop their tools next Saturday night." + +"There was an idea," Maraton reminded them quietly, "that I should speak +to-night not only to the operatives of Manchester but to Labour +throughout the Empire; that I should make a pronouncement which should +have in it something of a common basis for all industries--which would, +in short, unsettle Labour in every great centre." + +They all looked a little blank. Henneford shook his head. + +"It can't be done," he affirmed. "One job at a time's our way. You're +going to speak to cotton to-night, and we want the mills emptied by the +end of the week. We've got a scheme amongst the Unions, as you know, +for helping one another, and as soon as we ye finished with cotton, then +we'll go for iron." + +"That's an old promise," Weavel declared sturdily. + +"What about the potteries?" Mr. Borden exclaimed. "It's six years +since we had any sort of a dust-up, and my majority was the smallest of +the lot of you, last election. Something's got to be done down my way. +My chaps won't go paying in and paying in forever. We've fifty-nine +thousand pounds waiting, and the condition of our girl labour is +beastly." + +"Iron comes next," Weavel persisted stolidly. "That's been settled +amongst ourselves. And as for your fifty-nine thousand, Borden, what +about our hundred and thirty thousand? We shall all have to be lending +up here, too, to work this thing properly." + +"Let's get on," Peter Dale proposed, rapping on the table. "Now listen +here, all of you. What I propose is, if we're satisfied with Mr. +Maraton's address to-night, as I've no doubt we shall be," he added, +bowing to Maraton with clumsy politeness, "that we appoint him kind of +lecturer to the Unions, and we make out a sort of itinerary for him, to +kind of pave the way, and then he gives one of these Chicago orations of +his at the last moment in each of the principal centres. We'd fix a +salary--no need to be mean about it--and get to work as soon as this +affair's over. And meanwhile, while this strike's on, Mr. Maraton +might address a few meetings in other centres on behalf of these +fellows, and rope in some coin. There are one or two matters we shall +have to have an understanding about, however, and one as had better be +cleared up right now. I'll ask you, Mr. Maraton, to explain to us just +what you meant down at the Clarion the other night? We weren't +expecting you there and you rather took us aback, and we didn't find +what you said altogether helpful or particularly lucid. Now what's this +business about a universal strike?" + +Maraton sat for a moment almost silent. He looked down the table, along +the line of faces, coarse faces most of them, of varying strength, +plebeian, forceful here and there, with one almost common quality of +stubbornness. They were men of the people, all of them, men of the +narrow ways. What words of his could take them into the further land? +He raised his head. He felt curiously depressed, immeasurably out of +touch with these who should have been his helpmates. The sight of Julia +just then would have been a joy to him. + +"Perhaps," Maraton began, with a little sigh, "I had better first +explain my own position. You are each of you Members of Parliament for +a particular district. The interests of each of you are bound up in the +welfare of the operatives who send you to Parliament. It's your job to +look after them, and I've no doubt you do it well. Only, you see, it's +a piecemeal sort of business to call yourselves the representatives of +Labour in its broadest sense. I belong more, I am afraid, to the school +of theorists. In my mind I bring all Labour together, all the toilers +of the world who are slaves to the great Moloch, Capital. You have an +immense middle class here in England, who are living in fatness and +content. The keynote of my creed is that these people have twice the +incomes they ought to have, and Labour half as much. That, of course, +is just the simple, oldfashioned, illogical Socialism with which you +probably all started life, and which doubtless lies in some forgotten +chamber of the minds of all of you. You've given it up because you've +decided that it was unpractical. I haven't. I believe that if we were +to pull down the pillars which hold up the greatness of this nation, I +believe that if we were to lay her in ruins about us, that in the years +to come--perhaps I ought to say the generations to come--the rebuilding, +stone by stone, would be on the sane principle which, once established, +would last for eternity, of an absolute partnership between Capital and +Labour, a partnership which I say would be eternal because, in course of +time, the two would become one." + +They all looked at one another a little blankly. Peter Dale grunted +with expressionless face and relit his pipe, which had gone out during +these few moments of intense listening. Graveling reached out his hand +and took a cigar from a box which had been placed upon the table. +Henneford and his neighbour exchanged glances, which culminated in a +stealthy wink. Alone at the table David Ross sat like a figure of +stone, his mouth a little open, something of the light in his face. + +"I'm too much of an Englishman, for one," Graveling said, "to want to +pull the country down. Now where does this universal strike come in?" + +"The universal strike," Maraton explained quietly, "is the doctrine I +came to England to preach. It is the doctrine I meant to preach +to-night. If your coal strike and your iron strike and your railway +strike were declared within the next few days, the pillars would indeed +be pulled down." + +"Why, I should say so!" Peter Dale declared gruffly. "Half the people +in the country would be starving; there'd be no subscriptions to the +Unions; the blooming Germans would be over here in no time, and we +should lose our jobs." + +"It wouldn't do, Mr. Maraton," Borden said briskly. "It's our job to +improve the position of our constituents, but it's jolly certain we +shouldn't do that by bringing ruin upon the country." + +David Ross suddenly struck the table with his fist. + +"You are wrong, all of you," he cried hoarsely. "You are ignorant men, +thick-headed, fat, narrow fools, full of self-interest and prejudice. +You want your jobs; they come first. I tell you that the man's right. +Purge the country; get rid of the poison of ill-distributed capital, +start again a new nation and a new morning." + +Dale looked across the table, pityingly. + +"What you need, Ross, is a drink," he remarked. "I noticed you weren't +doing yourself very well coming down." + +David Ross rose heavily to his feet. His arm was stretched out towards +Dale and it was the arm of an accuser. + +"Doing myself well!" he repeated, with fierce contempt. "That's the +keynote of your lives, you lazy, self-satisfied swine, who call +yourselves people's men! What do you know or care about the people? +how many of you have walked by day and night in the wilderness and felt +your heart die away within you? How many of you have watched the people +hour by hour--the broken people, the vicious people, the cripples, the +white slaves of crueler days than the most barbarous countries in +history have ever permitted to their children? You understand your +jobs, and you do yourselves well; that's your motto and your epitaph. +There's only one amongst you who's a people's man and that's him." + +He pointed to Maraton and sat down. Peter Dale removed his pipe from +his mouth. + +"It's just as well, David Ross, for you to remember," he said gruffly, +"that you're here on sufferance. Seems to me there's a bit of the dog +in the manger about your whining. I don't know as it matters to any one +particularly what your opinion is, but if you expect to be taken in +along of us, you'll have to alter your style a bit. It's all very well +for the platform, but it don't go down here. Now, lads, let's get on +with business. What I say is this. If Mr. Maraton is going on the +platform to-night to talk anarchy, why then we'd best stop it. We want +subscriptions, we want the sympathy of the British public in this +strike, and there's nothing would make them button up their pockets +quicker than for Mr. Maraton there to go and talk about bringing ruin +upon the Empire for the sake of the people who ain't born yet. That's +what I call thinking in the clouds. There's nowt of good in it for us," +he added, with a momentary and vigorous return into his own vernacular. +"Get it out of thy head, lad, or pack thy bag and get thee back to +America." There was a brief silence. Most of those present had drawn a +little sigh of relief. It was obvious that they were entirely in +agreement with Dale. Only Ross was leaning across the table, his eyes +blinking, drumming upon the tablecloth with the palm of his hand. + +"That's right," he muttered, "that's right. Send him away, the only one +who sees the truth. Send him away. It's dangerous; you might lose your +jobs!" + +Then Maraton spoke quietly from his place. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "I gather one thing, at least, from our brief +conference. You are not extremists. I will bear that in mind. But as +to what I may or may not say to-night, I make no promises." + +"If you're not going to support the strike," Peter Dale declared +sturdily, "then thou shalt never set foot upon the platform. We've had +our fears that this might be the result of your spending the week-end +with Mr. Foley. There's six of us here, all accredited representatives +of great industrial centres, and he's never thought fit to ask one of us +to set foot under his roof. Never mind that. We, perhaps," he added, +with a slow glance at Maraton, "haven't learnt the knack of wearing our +Sunday coats. But just you listen. If Mr. Foley's been getting at you +about this cotton strike, and you mean to throw cold water upon it +to-night, then I tell ye that you're out for trouble. These Lancashire +lads don't stick at a bit. They'll pull you limb from limb if you give +them any of Mr. Foley's soft sawder. We're out to fight--in our own +way, perhaps, but to fight." + +"It is true that I have spent the week-end with Mr. Foley," Maraton +admitted. "I had thought, perhaps, to have reported to you to-day the +substance of our conversation. I feel now, though," he continued, "that +it would be useless. You call yourselves Labour Members, and in your +way you are no doubt excellent machines. I, too, call myself a Labour +man, but we stand far apart in our ideas, in our methods. I think, Mr. +Peter Dale and gentlemen, that we will go our own ways. We will fight +for the people as seems best to us. I do not think that an alliance is +possible." + +They stared at him, a little amazed. + +"Look here, young man," Peter Dale expostulated, "what's it all about? +What do you want from us? I spoke of a job as lecturer just now. If +you've really got the gift of speaking that they say you have, that'll +bring you into Parliament in time, and I reckon you'll settle down fast +enough with the rest of us then. Until then, what is it you want? We +are sensible men. We all know you can't go spouting round the country +for nothing, whether it's for the people, or woman's suffrage, or any +old game. Open your mouth and let's hear what you have to say." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I will, perhaps," he said, "come to you with an offer a little later +on. For the present I must be excused. I have an appointment which Mr. +Henneford has arranged for me with Mr. Preston, Secretary of the Union +here. There are a good many facts I need to make sure of before +to-night." + +Mr. Dale moved his pipe to the other side of his mouth. + +"That's all very well for a tale," he muttered, "but I'm not so sure +about letting you go on to the platform at all to-night. We don't want +our people fed up with the wrong sort of stuff." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Mr. Dale," he begged quietly, "listen." They were all, for a moment, +silent. Maraton opened the window. From outside came a low roar of +voices from the packed crowds who were even now blocking the street. + +"These are my masters, Mr. Dale," Maraton said, "and I don't think +there's any power you or your friends could make use of to-night, which +will keep me from my appointment with them." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +In the roar of applause which followed Maraton's brilliant but wholly +unprepared peroration, a roar which broke and swelled like the waves of +the sea, different people upon the platform heard different things. +Peter Dale and his little band of coadjutors were men enough to know +that a new force had come amongst them. It is possible, even, that +they, hardened as they were by time and circumstances, felt some thrill +of that erstwhile enthusiasm which in their younger days had brought +them out from the ranks of their fellows. To Aaron, listening with +quivering attention to every sentence, it seemed like the consummation +of all his dreams. Julia alone was conscious of a certain restraint, +knew that behind all the deep feeling and splendid hopefulness of +Maraton's words, there was a sense of something kept back. It wasn't +what he had meant to say. Something had come between Maraton and his +passionate dreams of freedom. He, too, had become a particularist. He, +too, was content to preach salvation piecemeal. He had spoken to them +at first simply, as one worker to another. Then he had drifted out into +the larger sea, and for those few moments he had been, at any rate, +vigorously in earnest as he had attacked with scorpion-like bitterness +the hideous disproportions which existed between the capitalized +corporation and the labour which supported it. Yet afterwards he had +gone back within himself. Almost she had expected to see him with his +hands upraised, bidding them tear down these barriers for themselves. +Instead he showed them the legalized way, not to free humanity, but to +ensure for themselves a more comfortable place in life. It was all very +magnificent. The strike was assured now, almost the success of it. + +It was long before they let him leave the platform. In the droning +impotence of the men who followed him, the vast audience seemed to +realise once more the splendid perfection of his wholly natural and +inspiring oratory. They rose and shouted for him, and once again, as he +said a few words, the spell of silence lay upon them. Julia sat telling +herself passionately that all was well, that nothing more than this was +to have been hoped for, that indeed the liberator had come. More than +once she felt Aaron's hands gripping her arm, as Maraton's words seemed +to cleave a way towards the splendid truth. Ross, on her other side, +was like a man carried into another s world. + +"It is the Messiah," he muttered, "the Messiah of suffering men and +women! No longer will they cry aloud for bread and be given stones." + +Everything that happened afterwards seemed, in a way, commonplace. When +at last they succeeded in leaving the platform, they had to wait for a +long time in an anteroom while some portion of the immense crowd +dispersed. Peter Dale, as soon as he had lit his pipe, came up to +Maraton and patted him on the shoulder. + +"There's no doubt about thy gift, lad," he said condescendingly. "A man +who can talk as you do has no need to look elsewhere for a living." + +"Gave it to 'em straight," Mr. Weavel assented, "and what I propose is +a meeting at Sheffield--say this day month--and an appeal to the +ironfounders. It's all very well, Borden," he went on, a little +angrily, "but my people are looking for something from me, in return for +their cash. What with these strikes here and strikes there, and a bit +out of it for everybody, why, it's time Sheffield spoke." + +"There's a question I should like to ask," Graveling intervened, +plunging into the discussion, "and that is, why are you so cocksure, Mr. +Maraton, of Government support in favour of the men? You said in your +speech to-night, so far as I remember, that if the masters wouldn't give +in without, Government must force them to see the rights of the matter. +And not only that, but Government should compel them to recognise the +Union and to deal with it. Now you've only been in this country a few +days, and it seemed to me you were talking on a pretty tall order." + +"Not at all," Maraton replied. "I have a scheme of my own, scarcely +developed as yet, a scheme which I wasn't sure, when I came here, that I +should ever make use of, which justified me in saying what I did." + +They looked at him jealously. + +"Is it an arrangement with Mr. Foley that you're speaking of?" Peter +Dale enquired. + +"Perhaps so," Maraton assented. + +There was a dead silence. Maraton was leaning slightly against a +table. Julia was talking to the wife of one of the delegates, a little +way off. The others were all spread around, smoking and helping +themselves to drinks which had just been brought in. Graveling's face +was dark and angry. + +"Are we to gather," he demanded, "that there's some sort of an +understanding between you and Mr. Foley?" + +"If there is," Maraton asked easily, "to whom am I responsible?" + +There was a silence, brief but intense. Julia had turned +her head; the others, too, were listening. Peter Dale was blowing +tobacco smoke from his mouth, Borden was breathing heavily. Graveling's +small eyes were bright with anger and distrust. They were all of +them realising the presence of a new force which had come amongst +them, and already, with the immeasurable selfishness of their class, +they were speculating as to its personal effect upon themselves. Peter +Dale, with his hands in his trousers pockets, and his pipe between +his teeth, elbowed his way to Maraton's side. + +"Young man," he began solemnly, "we'd best have an understanding. Ask +any of these others and they'll tell you I'm the leader of the Labour +Party. Are you one of us or aren't you?" + +"One of you, in a sense, I hope, Mr. Dale," Maraton answered simply. +"Only you must put me down as an Independent. I don't understand +conditions over here yet. Where my own way seems best, I am used to +following it." + +Peter Dale removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke with added +distinctness. + +"Politics over here," he said, "are a simpler game than in the States, +but there's one class of person we've got to do without, and that's the +Independent Member. You can't do anything over here except by sticking +together. If you'll come under the standard, you're welcome. I'll say +nothing about Parliament for a time, but we'll find you all the talking +you want and see that you're well paid for it." + +Looking past the speaker's hard, earnest face, Maraton was conscious of +the scorn flashing in Julia's I eyes. Intuitively he felt her +appreciation of the coarse selfishness of these men, terrified at his +gifts, resisting stubbornly the unwelcome conviction of a new +mastership. Her lips even moved, as though she were signalling to him. +At that moment, indeed, he would have been glad of her guidance. He +needed the machinery which these men controlled, distasteful though +their ideals and methods might be to him. + +"Mr. Dale," he declared, "I am a people's man. I cannot enroll myself +in your party because I fancy that in many ways we should think +differently. But with so many objects in common, it is surely possible +for us to be friends?" + +Ross leaned suddenly forward in his chair, his grey face +passion-stirred, the sweat upon his forehead. + +"Aye!" he cried, "it's the greatest friend or the bitterest enemy of the +people you'll be. You'll do more with that tongue of yours than a +library of books or a century of Parliament, and may it wither in your +mouth if they buy you--those others! God meant you for a people's man. +It'll be hell for you and for us if they buy you away." + +Maraton changed his position a little. He was facing them all now. + +"My friends," he said, "that is one thing of which you need have no +fear. Our methods may be different, we may work in different ways, but +we shall work towards the same goal. Remember this, and remember always +that whether we fight under the same banner or not, I have told it to +you solemnly and from the bottom of my heart. I am a people's man!" + +He turned towards the door and laid his hand upon Aaron's shoulder. +Julia, too, rose and followed him. + +"I think," he added, "that the people will have cleared off by now. I +am going to try and get back to the hotel. I have messages to send +away, and an early train to catch in the morning." + +They were passing out of the room almost in silence, but Henneford +struck the table with his fist. + +"Come," he exclaimed, "we seem in a queer humour to-night! Don't let +Mr. Maraton think too hardly of us. Wherever his place may be in the +future, he's done us a grand service to-night, and don't let's forget +it. He's waked these people up as none other of us could have done. +He's started this strike in such a fashion as none other of us could. +Don't let's forget to be grateful. The education and the oratory isn't +all on the other side now. If we don't see you again to-night, Mr. +Maraton, or before you leave for London, here's my thanks, for one, for +to-night's work, and I'll lay odds that the others are with me." + +They crowded around him after that, and though Graveling stood on one +side and Peter Dale still maintained his attitude of doubt, they all +parted cordially enough. They reached the back door of the hall and +found the shelter of a four-wheeled cab. Before they could start, +however, they were discovered. People came running from all directions. +Looking through the window, they could see nothing but a sea of white +faces. The crazy vehicle rocked from side to side. The driver was +lifted from his seat, the horse unharnessed. Slowly, and surrounded by +a cheering multitude, they dragged the cab through the streets. +Julia, sitting by Maraton's side, felt herself impelled to hold on to +his arm. Her body, her every sense was thrilled with the hoarse, +dramatic roll of their voices, the forest of upraised caps, the strange +calm of the man, who glanced sometimes almost sadly from side to side. +She clutched at him once passionately. + +"Isn't it wonderful!" she murmured. "All the time they call to +you--their liberator!" + +He smiled, and there was a shadow still of sadness in his eyes. + +"It is a moment's frenzy," he said. "They have seen a gleam of the +truth. When the light goes out, the old burden will seem all the +heavier. It is so little that man can do for them." + +They had flung open the top of the cab, and Maraton's eyes were fixed +far ahead at the dull glow which hung over the city, the haze of smoke +and heat, stretching like a sulphurous pall southwards. The roar of +voices was always in his ears, but for a moment his thoughts seemed to +have passed away, his eyes seemed to be seeking for some message beyond +the clouds. He alone knew the full meaning of the hour which had +passed. + + +They were sitting alone in the library, the French windows wide open, +the languorous night air heavy with the perfume of roses and the +sweetness of the cedars, drawn out by the long day's sunshine. Mr. +Foley was sitting with folded arms, silent and pensive--a man waiting. +And by his side was Elisabeth, standing for a moment with her fingers +upon his shoulder. + +"Is that eleven o'clock?" she asked. + +"A quarter past," he answered. "We shall hear in a few minutes now." + +She moved restlessly away. There was something spectral about her in +her light muslin frock, as she vanished through the windows and +reappeared almost immediately, threading her way amongst the flower +beds. Suddenly the telephone bell at Mr. Foley's elbow rang. He +raised the receiver. She came swiftly to his side. + +"Manchester?" she heard him say. . . . "Yes, this is Lyndwood Park. +It is Mr. Foley speaking. Go on." + +There was silence then. Elisabeth stood with parted lips and luminous +eyes, her hand upon his shoulder. She watched him,--watched the slow +movement of his head, the relaxing of his hard, thin lips, the flash in +his eyes. She knew--from the first she knew! + +"Thank you very much, and good night," Mr. Foley said, as he replaced +the receiver. + +Then he turned quickly to Elisabeth and caught her hand. "They say that +Maraton's speech was wonderful," he announced. "He declared war, but a +man's war. Cotton first, and cotton alone." + +She gave a little sobbing breath. Her hands were locked together. + +"England will never know," Mr. Foley added, in a voice still trembling +with emotion, "what she has escaped!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Those wonderful few days at Manchester had passed, and oppressed by the +inevitable reaction, Julia was back at work in the clothing factory. + +She had given up her place by the window to an anaemic-looking child of +seventeen, who had a habit of fainting during these long, summer +afternoons. Her own fingers were weary and she was conscious of an +increasing fatigue as the hours of toil passed on. No breath of air +came in from the sun-baked streets through the wide-flung windows. The +atmosphere of the long, low room, in which over a hundred girls closely +huddled together, were working, was sickly with the smell of cloth. +There was no conversation. The click of the machines seemed sometimes +to her partially dulled senses like the beating out of their human +lives. It seemed impossible that the afternoon would ever end. The +interval for tea came and passed--tea in tin cans, with thick bread +and melting butter. The respite was worse almost than the mechanical +toil. Julia's eyes ranged over the housetops, westwards. There was +another world of trees, flowers, and breezes; another world altogether. +She set her teeth. It was hard to have no place in it. A little time +ago she had been content, content even to suffer, because she was +toiling with these others whom she loved, and for whom, in her profound +pity, she poured out her life and her talents. And now there was a +change. Was it the spell of this cruel summer, she wondered, or was it +something else--some new desire in her incomplete life, something from +which for so many years she had been free? She let her thoughts, +momentarily, go adrift. She was back again in the cab, her fingers +clutching his arm, her heart thrilling with the wonderful passionate +splendour of those few hours. She recalled his looks, his words, his +little acts of kindness. She realised in those few moments how +completely he filled her thoughts. She began to tremble. + +"Better have your place by the window back again, Miss Thurnbrein," the +girl at her side said suddenly. "You're looking like Clara, just before +she popped off. My, ain't it awful!" + +Julia came back to herself and refused the child's offer. + +"I shall be all right directly," she declared. "This weather can't last +much longer." + +"If only the storm would come!" the child muttered, as she turned back +to her work. + +If only the storm would come! Julia seemed to take these words with her +as she passed at last into the streets, at the stroke of the hour. It +was like that with her, too. There was something inside, something +around her heart, which was robbing her of her rest, haunting her +through the long, lonely nights, torturing her through these miserable +days. Soon she would have to turn and face it. She shivered with fear +at the thought. + +In the street a man accosted her. She looked up with an almost guilty +start. A little cry broke from her lips. It was one of disappointment, +and Graveling's unpleasant lips were twisted into a sneer as he raised +his cap. + +"Thought it was some one else, eh?" he remarked. "Well, it isn't, you +see; it's me. There's no one else with a mind to come down here this +baking afternoon to fetch you." + +"I thought it might be Aaron," she faltered. + +"Never mind whom you thought it might have been," he answered gruffly. +"Aaron's busy, I expect, typing letters to all the lords and ladies your +Mr. Maraton hobnobs with. I'm here, and I want to talk with you." + +"I am too tired," she pleaded. "I am going straight home to lie down." + +"I'd thought of that," he answered stubbornly. "I've got a taxicab +waiting at the corner. Not often I treat myself to anything of that +sort. I'm going to take you up to one of those parks in the West End +we've paid so much for and see so little of, and when I get you there +I'm going to talk to you. You can rest on the way up. There's a breeze +blowing when you get out of these infernally hot streets." + +She was only too glad to sink back amongst the hard, shiny leather +cushions of the taxicab, and half close her eyes. The first taste of +the breeze, as they neared Westminster Bridge, was almost ecstatic. +Graveling had lit a pipe, and smoked by her side in silence. "We are +coming out of our bit of the earth now, to theirs," he remarked +presently, as they reached Piccadilly, brilliant with muslin-clad women +and flower-hung windows. "It isn't often I dare trust myself up here. +Makes me feel as though I'd like to go amongst those sauntering swells +and mincing ladies in their muslins and laces, and parasols, and run +amuck amongst them--send them down like a pack of ninepins. Aye, I'd +send them into hell if I could!" + +She was still silent. She felt that she needed all her strength. They +drove on to the Achilles statue, where he dismissed the taxicab. The +man stared at the coin which he was offered, and looked at the register. + +"'Ere!" he exclaimed. "You're a nice 'Un, you are!" + +Graveling turned upon him almost fiercely. + +"If you want a tip," he said, "go and drive some of these fine ladies +and gentlemen about, who've got the money to give. I'm a working man, +and luxuries aren't for me. Be off with you, or I'll call a policeman!" + +He shouldered his way across the pavement, and Julia followed him. Soon +they found a seat in the shade of the trees. She leaned back with a +little sigh of content. + +"Five minutes!" she begged. "Just five minutes!" + +He glanced at his watch, relit his pipe, and relapsed once more into +sombre silence. Julia's thoughts went flitting away. She closed her +eyes and leaned back. She had only one fear now. Would he find out! +He was thick enough, in his way, but he was no fool, and he was already +coarsely jealous. + +"Ten minutes you've had," he announced at last. "Look here, Julia, I've +brought you out to ask you a plain question. Are you going to marry me +or are you not?" + +"I am not," she answered steadily. + +He had been so certain of her reply that his face betrayed no +disappointment. Only he turned a little in his chair so that he could +watch her face. She was conscious of the cruelty of his action. + +"Then I want to know what you are going to do," he continued. "You are +thin and white and worn out. You're fit for something better than a +tailoress and you know it. And you're killing yourself at it. You're +losing your health, and with your health you're losing your power of +doing any work worth a snap of the fingers." + +"It isn't so bad, except this very hot weather," she protested. "Then +I'm secretary to the Guild, you know. I can do my work so much better +when I'm really one of themselves. Besides, they always listen to me at +the meetings, because I come straight from the benches." + +"You've done your whack," he declared. "No need to go on any longer, +and you know it. I can make a little home for you right up in +Hampstead, and you can go on with your writing and lecturing and give up +this slavery. You know you were thinking of it a short time back. +You've no one to consider but yourself. You're half promised to me and +I want you." + +"I am sorry, Richard," she said, "if I have ever misled you, but I hope +that from now onward, at any rate, there need be no shadow of +misunderstanding. I do not intend to marry. My work is the greatest +thing in life to me, and I can continue it better unmarried." + +"It's the first time you've talked like this," he persisted. "Amy +Chatterton, Rachael Weiss, and most of 'em are married. They stick at +it all right, don't they? What's the matter with your doing the same?" + +"Different people have different ideas," she pronounced. "Please be my +friend, Richard, and do not worry me about this. You can easily find +some one else. There are any number of girls, I'm sure, who'd be proud +to be your wife. As for me, it is impossible." + +"And why is it impossible?" he demanded, in a portentous tone. + +"Because I do not care for you in that way," she answered, "and because +I have no desire to marry at all." + +He smoked sullenly at his pipe for several moments. All the time his +eyes were filled with smouldering malevolence. + +"Now I am going to begin to talk," he said. "Don't look as though you +were going to run away, because you're not. I am going to talk to you +about that fellow Maraton." + +"Why do you mention his name?" she asked, stiffening. "What has he to +do with it?" + +"A good deal, to my thinking," was the grim reply. "It's my belief that +you've a fancy for him, and that's why you've turned against me." + +"You've no right to say anything of the sort!" she exclaimed. + +"And, by God, why haven't I?" he insisted, striking his knee with his +clenched fist. "Haven't you been my girl for six years before he came? +You were kind of shy, but you'd have been mine in the end, and you know +it. Waiting was all I had to do, and I was content to wait. And now +he's come along, and I know very well that I haven't a dog's chance. +You're a working lass, Julia, fit mate for a working man. Do you think +he's one of our sort? Not he! Do you think he's for marrying a girl +who works for her bread? If you do, you're a bigger fool than I think +you. He's forever nosing around amongst these swell ladies and +gentlemen with handles to their names, ladies and gentlemen who live on +the other side of the earth to us. He can talk like a prophet, I grant +you, but that's all there is of the prophet about him. People's man, +indeed! He'll be the people's man so long as it pays him and not a +second longer." + +"Have you finished?" she asked quietly. + +"No, nor never shall have finished," he continued, raising his voice, +"while he's playing the rotten game he's at now, and you're mooning +around after him as though he were a god. I'll never stop speaking +until I've knocked the bottom out of that, Julia. You never used to +think anything of fine clothes and all these gentlemen's tricks, it's +all come of a sudden." + +"Have you finished?" she asked again. + +"Never in this life!" he replied fiercely. "I tell you he shan't have +you, and you shan't have him. I'm there between, and I'm not to be got +rid of. I'll take one of you or both of you by the throat and strangle +the life out of you, before I quit. It isn't," he went on, his face +once more disfigured by that ample sneer, "it isn't that I'm afraid of +his wanting to marry you. He won't do that. But he's one of those who +are fond of messing about--philanderer's the word. If he tries it on +with you, he'll find hell before his time! Sit down!" + +She had risen to her feet. He clutched at her skirt. The sense of his +touch--she was peculiarly sensitive to touch--gave her the strength she +needed. She snatched it away. + +"Now," she declared', "you have had your say. This is what you get for +it. You have offended me. Our friendship is forgotten. The less I see +of you, the more content I shall be. And as to what I do or what +becomes of me, it isn't your business. I shall do with myself exactly +as I choose--exactly as I choose, Richard Graveling! You hear that?" +she reiterated, with blazing eyes and tone cruelly deliberate. "I +haven't much in the world, but my body and my soul are my own. I shall +give them where I choose, and on what terms I please. If you try to +follow me, you'll put me to the expense of a cab home. That's all!" + +She walked away with firm footsteps. She felt stronger, more of a woman +than she had done all day. Graveling made no attempt to follow her. He +sat and smoked in stolid silence. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Julia was conscious of a new vitality as she left the Park. She was her +own mistress now; her half tie to Graveling was permanently broken. So +much the better! The man's personality had always been distasteful to +her. She had suffered him only as a fellow worker. His overtures in +other directions had kept her in a continual state of embarrassment, but +in her ignorance as to her own feelings, she had hesitated to speak out. +She put sedulously behind her the question of what had brought this new +enlightenment. + +She took the Tube to the British Museum and went round to see Aaron. +The house was busier than she had ever seen it before; taxicabs were +coming and going, and four or five people sat in the waiting-room. +Aaron looked up and waved his hand as she entered. He was alone in the +study where he worked. + +"Come in," he cried eagerly. "Sit down. It's a joy to see you, Julia, +but I daren't stop working. I've forty or fifty letters to type before +he comes in, and he'll be off again in half-an-hour." + +She sank into an easy chair. The atmosphere of the cool room, with its +opened windows and drawn Venetian blinds, was most restful. + +"Is everything going well, Aaron?" she asked him. + +He nodded. + +"Better than well. There's a telegram just in from Manchester. We are +bound to win there. Did you read Foley's speech?" + +"Yes. Did he mean it all, do you think?" she asked doubtfully. + +"Every word," he replied confidently. "We've got it here in black and +white. There has been a commission appointed. Members of the +Government, if you please--nothing less. The masters have got an +ultimatum. If they refuse, Mr. Foley has asked Maraton to frame a +bill. We've got the sketch of it here already. What do you think of +that, Julia?" + +"I only wish that I knew," she murmured. "What can have happened to Mr. +Foley?" + +"They all do as Maraton bids them!" Aaron ex-claimed triumphantly. "If +only I had four hands! I can't finish, Julia. It's impossible." + + +She sprang up and tore off her gloves. + +"Let me help," she cried eagerly. "You have another typewriter in the +corner there. I can work it, and you know I could always read your +shorthand." + +He accepted her help a little grudgingly. + +"You must be careful, then," he enjoined, with the air of one who +confers a favour. "There must be no mistakes. Begin here and do those +letters. One carbon copy of each. I'll lift the machine on to the +table for you." + +She propped up the book and very soon there was silence in the room, +except for the click of the two typewriters. Presently she stopped +short and uttered a little cry. + +"What is it?" he demanded, without looking up from his work. + +"This letter to the Secretary of the Unionist Association, Nottingham!" + +"Well?" + +"Mr. Maraton is to go there Thursday, to address a meeting,--a Unionist +meeting." + +Aaron glowered at her from over his typewriter. + +"Why not? It's Mr. Foley's idea. He wants Mr. Maraton in Parliament. +Why not?" + +"But as a Unionist!" she gasped. "Nottingham isn't a Labour +constituency at all." + +"He is coming in as a Unionist, so as to have a +free hand. We don't want any interference from Peter Dale and that +lot." + +She looked at him aghast. Peter Dale and his colleagues had been gods a +few weeks ago! + +"Can't you see," Aaron continued irritably, "that the coming of Maraton +has changed many things? A man like that can't serve under anybody, and +no man could come as a stranger and lead the Labour Party. He has to be +outside. This is a working man's constituency. He is pledged to fight +Capital, fight it tooth and nail." + +"I suppose it's all right," Julia said. "It seems different, somehow, +from what we had expected, and he never goes to the Clarion at all." + +"Why should he?" Aaron demanded. "They are all jealous of him, every +one of 'em; Peter Dale is the worst of the lot. Didn't you hear how +they talked to him at Manchester?" + +She nodded, and for a time they went on with their work. She found +herself, however, continually returning to the subject of those vital +differences; the Maraton as they had dreamed of him--the prophet with +the flaming sword, and this wonderfully civilised person. + +"Tell me honestly, Aaron," she asked presently, "what do you think of it +all?--of him--of his methods? You are with him all the time. Haven't +you ever any doubts?" + +She watched him closely. She would have been conscious of the slightest +tremor in his reply, the slightest hesitation. There was nothing of the +sort. He was merely tolerant of her ignorance. + +"No one who knows Maraton," he pronounced, "could fail to trust him." + +After that she asked no more questions. They worked steadily for +another half hour or so. Messages were sometimes brought in to Aaron, +which he summarily disposed of. Julia wondered at the new facility, the +heart-whole eagerness which he devoted to every trifling matter. +Then, just as she was halfway through copying out a pile of figures, +Maraton came in. He stood and watched them in the doorway, half amused, +half surprised. For a moment she kept her head down. Then she looked +up slowly. + +"Since when," he asked, "have I been the proud possessor of two +secretaries?" + +"You left me letters enough for four, sir," Aaron reminded him. "I +wanted to finish them all, so Julia stayed to help me." + +Maraton came smiling towards them. + +"Why, I am afraid I forgot," he said. "In America I used sometimes to +have four typists working. You can't possibly get out all those details +by yourself, Aaron." + +"We shall have finished this lot, anyhow, in an hour." + +"You must get permanent help," Maraton insisted. "Leave off now, both +of you. I want to talk to your sister. Do you know," he went on, +turning towards her, "that I have scarcely seen anything of you since +Manchester?" + +"My work keeps me rather a prisoner," she explained, "and after these +hot days one hasn't much energy left." + +"You are still working at the tailoring?" + +She nodded. + +"I like to be in the midst of it all, but this weather I am almost +afraid I shan't be able to go on. The atmosphere is hateful. It seems +to draw all the life out of one." + +He glanced over her shoulder at the work she had been doing. + +"Why not come to me?" he suggested suddenly. "Aaron needs help. He +can't possibly do everything for himself. I have a thirst for +information, you know. I want statistics on every possible subject. +There are seven or eight big corporations now, whose wages bill I want +to compare with the interest they pay on capital. Aaron doesn't have +time even to answer the necessary letters. I am in disgrace all round. +Do come." + +She was sitting quite still, looking at him. It would have been +impossible for any one to have guessed that his words were like music to +her. + +"But there is my trade," she objected. "After all, I am useful there. +I keep in touch with the girls." + +"You have finished with that," he argued. "You have done your work +there. They all know who you are and what you are. You have lots of +information which would be useful to me. Aaron must have some one to +help him. Why not you? As for the rest, I can afford to pay two +secretaries--you needn't be afraid of that." + +"I never thought of it," she assured him. "I shouldn't want very much +money." + +"Leave that to me," he begged, "only accept. Is it a promise? Come, +make it a promise and we will have an evening off. All day long I seem +to have been moving in a strained atmosphere, talking to men who are +only half in sympathy with me, talking to men who are civil because they +have brains enough to see the truth. I want an hour or two of rest. +Aaron shall telephone to Gardner. I was to have dined with him at his +club, but it is of no importance. He was dining there, anyhow, and the +other places I was going to this evening don't count. Telephone 1718 +Westminster, Aaron, and say that Mr. Maraton is unable to keep his +dinner engagement with Mr. Gardner and begs to be excused. Then we'll +all go out together. What do you say? I have found something almost +like a roof garden. I'll tell you all about New York." + +Her face for a moment shone. Then she looked down at her gown. He +laughed. + +"You have done your day's work and I've done mine," he remarked. "I dare +say of the two, yours is the more worthy. We'll go just as we are. Get +rid of those people who are waiting, Aaron. I had a look at them. They +are all the usual class--cadgers." + +"There is one gentleman whom you must see," Aaron declared. "I didn't +put him in the waiting-room--a Mr. Beldeman. He came to see you in +Manchester." + +"Beldeman!" + +Maraton repeated the name. Then he smiled. + +"A very sensational gentleman," he observed. "Came to offer me--but +never mind, I told you about that. Yes, you're right, Aaron. He is +always interesting. Take your sister away for a few minutes. You can +be getting ready. When I've finished with Mr. Beldeman, we'll start +out. I shan't change a thing." + +Mr. Beldeman entered the room, carrying his hat in his hand, unruffled +by his long wait, to all appearance wearing the same clothes, the same +smile, as on his visit to the hotel in Manchester. Maraton greeted him +good-humouredly. + +"Well, Mr. Beldeman," he began, "you see, I have made things all right +for your syndicate of manufacturers, although I couldn't accept your +offer. Sit down. You won't keep me long, will you? I have to go out. +Perhaps you are going to give me a little for my Lancashire operatives. +They can do with it. Strike pay over here is none too liberal, you +know." + +Mr. Beldeman laid down his hat. He blinked for a moment behind his +gold spectacles. + +"The Lancashire strike," he said softly, "is of very little service to +my principals. As you know, it is more than that for which we were +hoping." + +Maraton nodded but made no remark. + +"My principals," Mr. Beldeman continued, "have watched your career, Mr. +Maraton, for some time. They have studied eagerly your speeches and +your writings, and when you arrived on this side they expected something +more from you. They expected, in fact, the enunciation of a certain +doctrine which you have already propounded with singular eloquence in +other parts of the world. They expected to find it the text of your +first words to Labour in this country. I refer, of course, to the +universal strike." + +"It was my great theory," Maraton admitted, suddenly grave. "I will not +say even now that I have abandoned it. It is in abeyance." + +"My principals," Mr. Beldeman remarked slowly, "would like it to take +place." + +Maraton smiled. + +"Your principals, I presume," he said, "do not imagine that I am on the +earth to gratify them, even though they did offer me--let me see, how +much was it--a million pounds?" + +"This time," Mr. Beldeman went on, "it is not a question of money." + +"Not a question of money," Maraton repeated. "You don't want to buy me? +What do you want to do, then?" + +"We threaten," Mr. Beldeman pronounced calmly. + +Maraton for a moment seemed puzzled. + +"Threaten," he murmured thoughtfully. "Come, do I understand you +properly? Is it assassination, or anything of that sort, you're talking +about?" Beldeman shook his head. + +"Those are methods for extreme cases," he said. "Yours is not an +extreme case. We do not threaten you, Mr. Maraton, with death, but we +do threaten you with the death of your reputation, the end of your +career as a political power in this country, if you do not see your way +clear to act as we desire." + +Maraton stood, for a few seconds, perfectly still. + +"You have courage, Mr. Beldeman," he remarked. + +"Sir," Mr. Beldeman replied, "I have been as near death as most men. +That is why I occupy my present position. I am the special agent of the +greatest political power in the world. When I choose to make use of my +machinery, I can kill or spare, abduct, rob, ruin--what I choose. You I +only threaten. I fancy that will be enough. We have our hold upon the +press of this country." + +Maraton walked to the door and back again. + +"I killed a man once, Mr. Beldeman," he said, "who threatened me." + +"You will not kill me," Mr. Beldeman declared, with gentle confidence +in his tone. + +"If I had known," Maraton continued softly, "I'd have wrung your neck at +Manchester." + +"Quite easy, I should say," Mr. Beldeman agreed. "You look strong. +Without a doubt I could make you desperate. Better be reasonable. My +people want the railway strike, the coal strike, and the iron +strike--want them both within a month. Come, what are you afraid of? +Stick to your colours, Mr. Maraton. Wasn't it in the North. American +Review you declared that a war and conquest were the inevitable prelude +of social reform in this country?" + +"Did I say that?" Maraton asked. + +"You did. Now you are here, you are afraid. Never mind, war and +conquest are to come. We give you a month in which to deliver your +message. You have, I believe, two large meetings to address before that +date. Make your pronouncement and all will be well. The million is +yours for the people." + +"A sort of gigantic blackmail," Maraton remarked drily. + +"You can call it what you like. If you have conditions to make, I am +prepared to listen. I do not insult you by offering--" + +Maraton flung open the door a little noisily. + +"That will do, Mr. Beldeman," he said. "I congratulate you upon the +manner in which you have conducted this interview. I presume I shall +see you again one day before the month is up?" + +"You certainly will," Mr. Beldeman replied. "If you should want me +before--an advance payment or anything of that sort--I am at the Royal +Hotel." + +Maraton was alone in the room. For some moments he remained motionless. +He heard Aaron and Julia in the hall but he did not hasten to join them. +He moved instead to the window and stood watching Beldeman's retreating +form. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Maraton led the way on to the roof of one of London's newer hotels. + +"They won't give us dinner here," he explained. "London isn't civilised +enough for that yet, or perhaps it's a matter of climate. But we can +get all sorts of things to eat, and some wine, and sit and watch the +lights come out. I was here the other night alone and I thought it the +most restful spot in London." + +He called a waiter and had a table drawn up to the palisaded edge of the +roof. Then he slipped something into the man's hand, and there seemed +to be no difficulty about serving them with anything they required. + +"A salad, some sandwiches, a bottle of hock and plenty of strawberries. +We shan't starve, at any rate," Maraton declared. "Lean back in your +chairs, you children of the city, lean down and look at your mother. +Look at her smoke-hung arms, stretched out as though to gather in the +universe; and the lights upon her bosom--see how they come twinkling +into existence." + +Both of them followed his outstretched finger with their eyes, but Julia +only shivered. + +"I hate it," she muttered, "hate it all! London seems to me like a +great, rapacious monster. Our bodies and souls are sacrificed over +there. For what? I was in Piccadilly and the parks to-day. Is there +any justice in the world, I wonder? It's just as though there were a +kink in the great wheels and they weren't running true." + +"Sometimes I think," Maraton declared, "that the matter would right +itself automatically but for the interference of weak people. The laws +of life are tampered with so often by people without understanding. +They keep alive the unworthy. They try to make life easier for the +unfit. They endow hospitals and build model dwellings. It's a sop to +their consciences. It's like planting a flower on the grave of the man +you have murdered." + +"But these things help," Aaron protested. + +"Help? They retard," Maraton insisted. "All charity is the most +vicious form of self-indulgence. Can't you see that if the poor died in +the street and the sick were left to crawl about the face of the earth, +the whole business would right itself automatically. The unfit would +die out. A stronger generation would arise, a generation stronger and +better able to look after itself. But come, we have been serious long +enough. You are tired with your day's work, Miss Julia, and Aaron, too. +I've been in the committee room of the House of Commons half the day, +and my head's addled with figures. Here comes our supper. Let us drop +the more serious things of life. We'll try and put a little colour into +your cheeks, young lady." + +He served them both and filled their glasses with wine. Then, as he +ate, he leaned back in his chair and watched them. For all her strange +beauty, Julia, too, was one of the suffering children of the world. The +lines of her figure, which should have been so subtle and fascinating, +were sharpened by an unnatural thinness. Aaron's cheeks were almost +like a consumptive's, his physique was puny. There was something in +their expression common to both. Maraton was conscious of a wave of +pity as he withdrew his eyes. + +"Sometimes," he said, "I feel almost angry with you two. You carry on +your shoulders the burden of other people's sufferings. It is well to +feel and realise them, and the gift of sympathy is a beautiful thing, +but our own individualism is also a sacred gift. It is not for us to +weaken or destroy it by encouraging a superabundant sympathy for others. +We each have our place in the world, whether we owe it to fate or our +own efforts, and it is our duty to make the best of it. Our own +happiness, indeed, is a present charge upon ourselves for the ultimate +benefit of others. A happy person in the world does good always. You +two have a leaning towards morbidness. If I had time, I would undertake +your education. As it is, we will have another bottle of wine, and I +shall take you to a music hall." + +It was an evening that lived in Julia's mind with particular vividness +for years to come, and yet one which she always found it difficult to +piece together in her thoughts. They went to one of the less +fashionable music halls, where the turns were frequent and there was no +ballet. Aaron was very soon able to re-establish his temporarily lost +capacity for enjoyment. Maraton, leaning back in his place with a cigar +in his mouth, appreciated everything and applauded constantly. It was +Julia who found the new atmosphere most difficult. She laughed often, +it is true, but she had always a semi-subjective feeling, as though it +were some other person who was really there, and she the instrument +chosen to give physical indication of that other person's presence. +Only once life seemed suddenly to thrill and burn in her veins, to shoot +through her body with startling significance, and in that brief space of +time, life itself was transformed for her. Maraton by chance found her +hand, as they sat side by side, and held it for a moment in his. There +was nothing secret about his action. The firm pressure of his fingers, +even, seemed as though they might have been the kindly, encouraging +touch of a sympathetic friend. But upon Julia his touch was magical. +The rest of the evening faded into insignificance. She understood +feelings which had come to her that afternoon in the park with absolute +completeness for the first time. From that moment she took her place +definitely amongst the women who walk through life but whose feet seldom +touch the earth. + +When the performance was over, Maraton called a taxicab. + +"Aaron," he directed, "you must take your sister back to her lodgings. +No, I insist," he added, as she protested. "No 'buses to-night. Go +home and sleep well and think about yourself." + +She shook her head. + +"I will go home in a taxi," she agreed, "if you will do one thing for +me. It won't take long. It has been in my mind ever since you said +what you did about charity. I want us all to go down to the Embankment. +It isn't late enough really, but I want you to come." + +He sighed. + +"You are incorrigible," he declared. "Never mind, we will go. How good +the air is! We'll walk." + +They turned along the Strand and descended the narrow street which led +to the Embankment. Then they walked slowly as far as Blackfriars +Bridge. They neither of them spoke a word. From time to time they +glanced at the silent and motionless figures on the seats. For the most +part, the loiterers there were either asleep or sitting with closed +eyes. Here and there they caught a glance from some spectral face, a +glance cold and listless. The fires of life were dead amongst these +people. The animal desires alone remained; their faces were dumb. + +They stood together at the corner of Blackfriars Bridge. + +"Well," Maraton said, "I have done your bidding. I have been here +before many times, and I have been here in the winter." + +"Tell me," she asked, "there is a girl there on that third seat, crying. +Am I doing wrong if I go to her and give her money for a night's +lodging?" + +"Without a doubt," he answered. "And yet, I expect you'll do it. +Principles are splendid--in the abnegation. If we are to be illogical, +let me be the breaker of my own laws." + +He thrust some money into her hand and Julia disappeared. For some time +she remained talking with the figure upon the seat. Aaron and Maraton +leaned over the corner of the bridge and looked down the curving arc of +lights towards the Houses of Parliament. + +"I shall end there, you know, Aaron," Maraton sighed. "I am not looking +forward to it. It's a queer sort of a hothouse for a man." + +"I wonder," Aaron murmured thoughtfully. "I used to think of you +travelling from one to the other of the great cities, and I used to +think that when you had spoken to them, the people would see the truth +and rise and take their own. I used to be very fond of the Old +Testament once," he went on, his voice sinking a little lower. "Life +was so simple in those days, and the words of a prophet seemed greater +than any laws." + +"And nowadays," Maraton continued, "life has become like a huge and +complex piece of machinery. Humanity has given way to mechanics. +Aaron, I don't believe I can help this people by any other way save by +laws." + +They both turned quickly around. Julia was standing by their side, and +with her the girl. + +"I told her," Julia explained, "that it was not my money I was offering, +but the money of a gentleman who was the greatest friend the poor people +of the world have ever known. She wanted to speak to you." + +The girl drew her shawl a little closer around her shoulders. Her face +bore upon it the terrible stamp of suffering, without its redeeming +purification. Save for her abundant hair, her very sex would have been +unrecognisable. She looked steadily at Maraton. + +"You sent me money," she said. + +"I did," he admitted. + +"Are you one of those soft-hearted fools who go about doing this sort of +thing?" she demanded. + +"I am not," he replied. "I object to giving money away. I am sorry to +see people suffering, but as a rule I think that it is their own fault +if they come to the straits that you are in. I sent the money to please +this young lady." + +"Their own fault, eh?" she muttered. + +"I qualify that," he added quickly. "Their own fault because they +submit to a heritage of unjust laws. It is your own fault because you +don't join together and smash the laws. You would fill the jails, +perhaps, but you'd make it easier for those who came after." + +She stood quite silent for a moment. When she spoke, the truculent note +had departed from her tone. + +"I came here," she said, "meaning to chuck this money in your face. I +thought you were one of these canting hypocrites who salve their +consciences by giving away what they don't want. My baby died this +morning in the hospital, and they turned me out. If I keep your money, +do you know what I shall do with it? Get drunk." + +He nodded. + +"Why not?" + +She looked at him stolidly. + +"When I've spent it, I shall go into the river. I'm not fit for +anything else. I'm too weak to work, and for the rest, look at me. I'm +as ugly as sin itself--just a few bones held together." + +"Take the money and get drunk," Maraton advised. "You're quite right. +There's no help for you. You've no spirit to help yourself. If you +hang on to the crust of the world through charity, you only do the world +harm. You're better out of it." + +She gathered up the money and shivered a little. + +"I'll drink yer health," she muttered, as she turned away. + +Julia half started to follow her, but Maraton held her arm. + +"Useless," he whispered. "She's one of the broken creatures of the +world. Whilst you keep her alive, you spread corruption. She'll +probably hang on to life until it gives her up." + +He called a taxi. + +"Now I am going to have my own way," he announced. "Aaron is going to +take you home. I came here because you wished it, but it's very +amateurish, you know, this sort of thing. It's on a par with district +visiting and slumming, and all the rest of it. A disease in the body +sometimes brings out scars. A doctor doesn't stare at the scars. He +treats the body for the disease. Get these places out of your mind, +Julia. They are only useful inasmuch as they remind us of the black +truth." + +He took her hands. + +"Remember," he added, "that you've finished with the tailoring for a +time. Aaron will want you to-morrow, or as soon as you can come. We've +piles of work to do." + +Her eyes shone at him. + +"Work," she murmured, "but think of the difference! If it wasn't for +what you've just said about individualism, I think that I should be +feeling cruelly selfish." + +"Rubbish!" he exclaimed. "You're secretary of the Women's Guild, aren't +you? You can keep that up. I'll come and talk to your girls some day. +Your work has been too narrow down there. There are some other women's +industries I want you to enquire into. Till to-morrow!" + +He strode vigorously away. The taxicab turned eastward over Blackfriars +Bridge. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +On the following morning, Maraton saw Elisabeth for the first time since +his return from Manchester. As he rang the bell of Mr. Foley's +residence in Downing Street, at a few minutes before the hour at which +he had been bidden to luncheon, he found himself wondering with a leaven +of resentment in his feelings why he had so persistently avoided the +house during the last three weeks. All his consultations with Mr. +Foley, and they had been many, had taken place at the House of Commons. +He had refused endless invitations of a social character, and even when +Mr. Foley had told him in plain words that his niece was anxious to see +him, Maraton had postponed his call. This luncheon party, however, was +inevitable. He was to meet a great lawyer who had a place in the +Government, and two other Cabinet Ministers. No excuse would have +served his purpose. + +The man who took his hat and coat had evidently received special +instructions. + +"Mr. Foley is engaged with his secretary, sir," he said. "A messenger +has just arrived from abroad. Will you come this way?" + +He was taken to Elisabeth's little room. She was there waiting for him. +Directly she rose, he knew why he had kept away. + +"Are you not a little ashamed of yourself, Mr. Maraton?" she asked, as +the door was closed behind the departing servant. + +"On the contrary," he replied, "I am proud." + +She laughed at him, naturally at first, but with a note of +self-consciousness following swiftly, as she realised the significance +of his words. + +"How foolish! Really, I know it is only a subterfuge to avoid being +scolded. Sit down, won't you? You will have to wait at least ten +minutes for luncheon." + +They looked at one another. He took up a volume of poems from the small +table by his side and put it down again. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"You have conquered," he declared. "You see, I came down to earth." + +"It isn't possible for me," she said simply, "to tell you how glad I am. +Don't you yourself feel that you have done the right thing?" + +"Since that night at Manchester," he told her, "I have scarcely stopped +to think. Do you know that your strongest allies were Mr. Peter Dale +and his men?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"I disclaim my allies. If we arrived at the same conclusion, we did so +by differing lines of thought. Let me tell you," she went on, "there +were two things for which I have prayed. One was that you might start +your fight exactly as you have done. The other that you might find no +official place amongst the Labour Members. Of course, I can't pretend +to the practical experience of a real politician, but my uncle talks to +me a great deal, and to me the truth seemed so clear. It is the +advanced Unionists who need you. They are really the party from whom +progress must come, because it is the middle class which has to be +attacked, and it is amongst the middle classes that Liberalism has its +stronghold. If you once took your place among the Labour Members, you +would be a Labour Member and nothing else. People wouldn't take what +you said seriously." + +"I am coming into the House, if at all, as an Independent Member," he +announced. + +She nodded. + +"Mr. Foley is quite satisfied with that--in fact he thinks it's best. +Do you know, he seems to have gained a new lease of life during the last +few weeks. What do you think of his commission on your Manchester +strike?" + +"He kept his word," Maraton admitted. "I expected no less." + +"I can tell you this," she went on, "because I know that he will tell +you himself after luncheon. The masters met here this morning. They +are simply furious with my uncle, but they have had to give in. The +bill you drafted would have been rushed through Parliament without a +moment's delay, if they had not. Mr. Foley showed them your draft. +They have given in on every point." + +"I am afraid I'm going to keep your uncle rather busy," Maraton +remarked. "Very soon after this is settled, I have promised to speak at +Sheffield." + +"In a way it is terrible," she said, with a sigh, "and yet it is so much +better than the things we feared. Tell me about yourself a little, +won't you? How have you been spending your time? You have a large, +gloomy house here, they tell me, shrouded with mystery. Have you any +amusements or have you been working all the time?" + +"Half my days have been spent with your uncle," he reminded her. "The +other half at home, working. So many of my facts were rusty. As to my +house, is it really mysterious, I wonder? It is large and gloomy, at +the extreme corner of an unfashionable square. It suits me because I +love space and quietness, and yet I like to be near the heart of +things." + +"But do you do nothing but work?" she asked. "Have you no hobbies?" + +He shook his head. + +"I seem to have had no time for games. I like walking, walking in the +country or even walking in the cities and watching the people. Only the +London streets are so sad. Then I am fond of reading. I'm afraid I +should be rather a strange figure if I were to be suddenly projected +into your world, Lady Elisabeth." + +"But I like to feel that you are in my world," she said gently. +"Believe me, it isn't altogether made up of people who play games." + +"I read the daily papers," he remarked. "Didn't I see something +yesterday about Lady Elisabeth Landon having won the scratch prize at +Ranelagh at a ladies' golf meeting?" + +She laughed pleasantly. + +"Oh! well," she protested, "you must make allowance for my bringing up. +We begin to play games in this country as soon as we can crawl about the +nursery. It all depends upon the value you set upon these things." + +A servant knocked at the door and announced the service of luncheon. +Elisabeth rose reluctantly to her feet. + +"Now, I suppose, I must hand you over to the serious business of life," +she sighed. "If you do have a minute to spare when you have finished +with my uncle," she added in a lower tone, as they passed down the wide +staircase side by side, "come up and see me before you go. I shall be +in till four o'clock." + +The familiarity of her words, half whispered in his ear, the delightful +suggestion of some confidential understanding between them, were alike +fascinating to him. In her plain white serge coat and skirt, and smart +hat--she had just come in from walking in the park--she seemed to him to +represent so perfectly the very best and most delightful type of +womanhood. Her complexion was perfect, her skin fresh as a child's. +She carried herself with the spring and grace of one who walks through +life self-confidently, fortified always with the knowledge that she was +a favourite with women as well as with men. He sat by her side at +luncheon and he could not help admiring the delicate tact with which she +prevented the conversation from ever remaining more than a few seconds +in channels which might have made him feel something of an alien. There +was another nephew of Mr. Foley's there, a famous polo player and +sportsman; Lord Carton, whose eyes seldom left Elisabeth's face; Sir +William Blend, the great lawyer; Mr. Horrill and Lord Armley. These, +with Elisabeth's mother and herself, made up the party. + +"I think I am going to bar politics," Lady Grenside said, as she took +her place. + +"Impossible!" Mr. Foley retorted, in high good humour. "This is a +political luncheon. We have great and weighty matters to discuss. You +women are permitted to be present, but we allot to you the hardest task +of all--silence." + +"A sheer impossibility, so far as mother is concerned," Elisabeth +observed. "As for me, I call myself a practical politician. I intend +to take part in the discussion." + +Mr. Foley looked across the round table with twinkling eyes. + +"We are going to talk about Universal Manhood Suffrage," he announced. + +"Scandalous," Elisabeth declared, "before we have our votes!" + +"Perhaps," Maraton suggested, "it was Universal Suffrage that Mr. Foley +meant." + +"Including children and aliens," Lady Grenside remarked. "I am sure the +children at the school I went over yesterday could have ruled the nation +admirably. They seemed to know positively everything." + +"Mother, you are too frivolous," Elisabeth insisted. "If this tone of +levity is not dropped, I shall start another subject of conversation. +Mr. Maraton, you, of course, are in favour of Universal Manhood +Suffrage?" + +"I am not at all sure about it," he replied. "It gives the vote to a +lot of people I'd sooner see deported." + +"But you--you to talk like that!" she exclaimed. + +He smiled. + +"Votes should belong to those who have a stake in the country, not to +the flotsam and jetsam," he continued solemnly. + +"But you're a Tory!" she cried. + +"Not a bit," he answered. "If I had my way, you would very soon see +that one man wouldn't have so much more stake in the country than +another. Then Universal Suffrage follows automatically--in fact that's +the way I'd arrive at it." + +"Don't ever let Mr. Maraton be Prime Minister!" Elisabeth begged. +"He's too iconoclastic." + +"And just now I was a Tory," Maraton protested. + +"It isn't my fault that you are a study in contraries," she laughed. +"But then politicians are rather like that, aren't they? I think really +that they should be like surgeons, specialise all the time." + +"Come down to Ranelagh and play golf after luncheon," Lord Carton +suggested abruptly from across the table. "I've got my little racing +car outside and I'll take you down there like a rocket." + +"Thanks," she answered, "I want particularly to stay in till four +o'clock this afternoon. Besides, you can't play golf, you know." + +"I don't think Elisabeth has improved," he remarked to her mother, +turning deliberately away. + +"And I am sure Jack's left his heart in Central America," Elisabeth +declared. "He was always fond of dark-complexioned ladies. Mr. +Maraton, have you been a great traveller?" + +He shook his head. + +"I have been in South America," he replied, "and I know most of the +country between San Francisco and New York pretty well." + +"And Europe?" she asked. + +"I walked from Vienna to Paris when I was a boy," he told her. "It's +years, though, since I was on the Continent." + +Her cousin began to talk of his hunting experiences, and every one +listened. As soon as the service of luncheon was concluded, Lady +Grenside rose. + +"I dare say we shall all meet again before you go," she said. "Coffee +is being served to you in the library, Stephen. We won't say good-bye +to anybody. Jack, don't forget that you are dining here to-night. You +shall take in the blackest young lady I can pick out for you." + +Elisabeth followed her mother. At the last moment, Maraton caught a +little whisper which only just floated from her lips. + +"Till four o'clock!" + +The two younger men took their departure almost immediately. The others +moved into the library. Mr. Foley plunged at once into the subject +which was uppermost in their minds. + +"Mr. Maraton," he began, "we want to talk about these strikes. Horrill +here, and Blend, have an idea that you are working towards some definite +result--that you have more in your mind than I have told them. It is +only this morning," he went on in a lower tone, and glancing towards the +closed door, "that I explained to them your Manchester speech. They +know now that England has you to thank for the fact that we are not at +this moment preparing for war." + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Between three and four o'clock, half a dozen people, on different +devices, tried to draw Elisabeth from her retirement. Her particular +friend called to suggest a round of the picture galleries, tea at the +club, and a motor ride to Ranelagh. Lord Carton repeated his invitation +to a game of golf. Two people invited her out into the country on +various pretexts. Her dressmaker rang up and begged for her presence +without delay. To all of these importunities Elisabeth remained deaf. +She sat in her room in an easy-chair drawn up to the open window, with a +book in her hand at which she scarcely glanced. Her thoughts were with +the five men downstairs. Every now and then she glanced at the clock. +She heard the conference break up. She sat quite still, listening. +Presently there was the sound of a firm tread upon the stairs. She +closed her book and breathed a little sigh. A servant ushered in +Maraton. + +"You have not forgotten, then," she said softly. "Come and sit in my +favourite chair and rest for a few moments. I am sure that you must be +tired." + +He sank down with an air of content. She sat upon the end of the sofa, +close to him, her head resting upon her hands. + +"Well," she asked, "have you converted Sir William?" + +"Up to a certain extent, I believe," he answered, after a momentary +hesitation. "I don't think that he trusts me. Lawyers have a habit of +not trusting people, you know. On the other hand, I don't think he +means to give any trouble. Of course, they don't like what they have to +face. No one does. It isn't every one who has the sagacity of your +uncle." + +"I am glad," she said, "that you appreciate him. Tell me now what is +going to happen?" + +"Mr. Foley will have his own way," Maraton declared. "The Manchester +strike will be over in a few days. The Sheffield strike will be dealt +with in the same manner. People will talk about the great loss of +trade, the shocking depreciation of profits, the lowered incomes of the +people, and all that sort of thing. What will really happen will be +that the investor and the manufacturer are going to pay, and Labour is +going to get just about a tithe of its own in these two cases. The +country will be none the poorer. The money will be still there, only +its distribution will be saner." + +"And the end of it?" she murmured. "What will the end of it be?" + +"We can none of us tell that;" he answered gravely. "There are some, +like Sir William, who insist that when Labour has once started, as it +will have started after Sheffield, there will be no holding it. I can +not answer for it. I only say that the course Mr. Foley has adopted is +distinctly the best for the country. If an obstinate man had been in +his place to-day, nothing could have saved you from civil war first and +possibly from foreign conquest later." + +"A month ago," she observed, "you seemed fully prepared for these +things." + +"I was," he admitted. + +"But you are an Englishman, are you not?" + +"I am English. I daresay that under other considerations I might even +have called myself a patriotic Englishman. As it is, I have very little +feeling of that sort. There has been too much self-glorification, and +it's the wrong class of people who've revelled in it and enjoyed it. +It's a fine thing to die for one's country. It's a shameful thing that +that country should grind the life and brains and blood out of a hundred +of her children, day by day." + +A servant brought in tea, delightfully served. There were small yellow +china cups, pale tea with a faint, aromatic odour, thick cream, +strawberries and cakes. + +"If only you would appreciate it," she declared, "you are really rather +a privileged person. No one has tea with me here." + +"I do appreciate it," he assured her, "perhaps more than you think." + +There was a moment's silence. As he was taking his cup from her +fingers, their eyes met, and she looked away again almost immediately. + +"I wish," she said, "that you would tell me more about yourself--what +you did in America, what your life has been? You are rather a +mysterious person, aren't you?" + +"In a sense, perhaps, I must seem so," he admitted. "You see, I was an +orphan very early. There wasn't any one who cared how I grew up, and I +wandered a good deal. The earlier part of my life I was over here--I +was at Heidelberg University, bye the bye--and in Paris for two years +studying art, of all things! Then something--I don't know what it +was--called me to America, and I found it hard to come back. It's a big +country, you know, Lady Elisabeth. It gets hold of you. If it hadn't +driven me out, I doubt whether I should ever have left it." + +"But what was it first inspired you with this--well, wouldn't you call +it a passion--for championing the cause of the people?" + +He shook his head. + +"Born in me, I suppose. I have watched them, lived with them, and then +I have been through the whole gamut of Socialistic literature. It is +not worth reading, most of it. The essential facts are there to look +at, half-a-dozen phrases, a single field of view. It's all very +simple." + +"Now I am going to ask you something else," she went on. "That first +night when we talked together, you seemed so full of hope, so dauntless. +Since then, is it my fancy--since you came back from Manchester--are you +a little disappointed 'with life? Don't you know in your heart that +you've done what's best?" + +"I wish I did," he answered simply. "My common sense tells me that I +have chosen well, and then sometimes, in the nights, or when I am alone, +other thoughts come to me, and I feel almost as though I had been +faithless, as though I had simply chosen the easier way. Look how +pleasant it is all being made for me! I am no longer an outcast; I bask +in the sun of your uncle's patronage; people ask me to dinner, seek my +friendship, people whom I feel ought to hate me. I am not sure about it +all." + +"Listen," she said, "if you had indeed pulled down those pillars, don't +you think that day by day and night by night you would have been haunted +by the faces of those whom you had destroyed? Think of the children who +would have died of starvation, the women who would have been torn from +their husbands, the ruined homes, the sorrow and the misery all through +the land. Yours would have been the hand which had dealt this blow. +You would not have lived to have seen into the future. Would it have +been enough for you to have believed that you had done it for the +best--that that unborn generation of which you spoke would have +unfitted? Oh, I do not think so! I believe that when you realise it, +you must be glad." + +"It is at any rate consoling to hear you say so," he remarked. "Yet, +when you have made up your mind to play the martyr, it is a little +hard," he added, helping himself to strawberries, "to be treated like a +pampered being." + +"In other words," she laughed, "you are discontented because you have +been successful?" + +"I suppose human nature never meant to let us rest satisfied." + +"Don't you ever think of yourself," she asked, "what your own life is +going to be? You've settled down now. You will be a Member of +Parliament in a few weeks, a Cabinet Minister before long. I know what +my uncle thinks of you. He believes in you. To tell you the truth, so +do I." + +"I am glad." + +"I believe," she went on, "that you will do the work that you came here +to do. There is no reason why you should not do it from the Cabinet. +But there is the rest--your own life. Are you never going to amuse +yourself, to take holiday, to draw some of the outside things into your +scheme of being?" + +He sat quite silent for a little time. He was inclined to struggle +against the charm of her soft voice, the easy intimacy with which she +treated him. In a sense he felt as though he were losing control of +himself. + +"I don't know," he said. "I think one ought to find one's work +sufficient for a time. It is engrossing, isn't it? And that reminds +me--I must go." + +He rose almost abruptly to his feet. She was quick to appreciate his +slight confusion of thought, his nervous self-impatience, and she smiled +quietly. She was content to let him escape. She held out her hand, +though, and his fingers seemed conscious of the firm, delicate warmth of +her clasp. + +"Come and talk to me again soon," she begged. "Come either as a +politician or a friend, or however you like. It gives me so much +pleasure to talk with you. Uncle will tell you that every one spoils +me. Even Sir William comes and tells me about his troubles with the +Irish Members. Will you come?" + +He made a half promise. His departure was a little hasty--almost +abrupt; he was conscious of a distinct turmoil of feeling. He hurried +away, as though anxious to rid himself of the influence of the place. +At the corner of the street he was about to hail a taxicab when a man +gripped him by the arm. He turned quickly around. The face was somehow +familiar to him--the grey, untidy beard, long hairy eyebrows, sunken +eyes, the shabby clothes. It was David Ross. + +"Can I speak a word with you, Mr. Maraton?" + +Maraton nodded. + +"Of course. I don't remember your name. You were at Manchester, +weren't you, and at my house with the others?" + +"Ross, my name is," the man answered. "I'd no call to be at Manchester, +for I'm not one of the delegates. I'm not an M.P. but I've done a lot +of speaking for them lately, and Peter Dale, he said if I paid my own +expenses I could come along. I borrowed the money. I had to come. I +had to hear you speak. I wanted to know your message." + +"Were you satisfied with it?" Maraton enquired. + +"I don't know," was the doubtful reply. "You ask me a question I can't +answer myself. I thought so at the time, but since then I've spent many +sleepless nights and many tired hours, asking myself that question. Now +I am here to ask you one. Did you speak that night what you had in your +mind when you left America?--what you thought of on the steamer coming +over--what you meant to say when first you set foot in this country?" + +Maraton was interested. He walked slowly along by the side of his +companion. + +"I did not," he admitted. "I came with other views. + +"I knew it!" Ross exclaimed, almost fiercely. "I felt it, man. You +came to preach redemption, even though the means were sharp and short +and sudden, means of blood, means of death. Before you ever came here, +I seemed to hear your voice crying across that great continent, crying +even across the ocean. It was a terrible cry, but it seemed as though +it must reach up into heaven and down into hell, for it was aflame with +truth. It seemed to me that I could see the revolution upon us, the +death that is like sleep, the looking down once more from some +undiscovered place upon the new morning. You never uttered that cry +over here." + +Maraton glanced at his companion curiously. + +"Mine was an immense responsibility," he said. "Granted that I had the +power, do you think that I had the right to stir up a civil war here in +the face of the help I was promised for our people?" + +David Ross sighed. + +"I don't know," he confessed. "I only know that many years ago, Peter +Dale, when he was a young man, spoke as though the word of truth were +burning in his heart. He was for a revolution. He would be content +with nothing less. And Borden was like that, and Graveling, and others +whom you don't know. And then the people gave them their mandate, +knocked a bit of money together, and sent them to Parliament. There, +somehow or other, they seemed to fall into the easier ways. They worked +stolidly and honestly, no doubt, but something had gone, something we've +all missed, something that by this time might have helped. When they +told me--it was Aaron who came and told me--rode his bicycle like a +madman, all the way from Soho. 'Maraton is come!' he shouted. Then it +seemed to me that freedom was here; no more compromises, but battle--the +naked sword, battle with the wrongs of generations to requite. Is the +sword sheathed?" + +Maraton passed his arm through his companion's. + +"It is not sheathed," he declared, "nor while I have life will it be +sheathed. If I have chosen the quieter methods, it is because for the +present I have come to believe that they are the best. Six hundred +thousand people in Lancashire are going to start life next Monday with +an increase of between fifteen and twenty per cent to their weekly wage. +Isn't that something to the good? And then, in a few weeks, every forge +and furnace in Sheffield will be cold until the men's demands are +granted there. And when that is over, we go for every industry, one by +one, throughout the country. Before a year is past, I reckon that many +millions will have passed from the pockets of the middle classes into +the pockets of the labouring man. I am going to set that stream running +faster and faster, and then I am going to begin all over again. With +prosperity, the labouring classes will gain strength. You will have +more time for thought, for education, for self-knowledge. And as they +gain strength, once more we raise our hands. Do they seem slow to you, +our methods, David Ross? Believe me, they did to me. Yet in my heart I +know that I have chosen the right." + +The man drew a little sigh. There may have been disappointment mingled +with it, yet there was a certain amount of relief. + +"I was afraid for you, Maraton," he said. "I thought of those others +when they stumbled upon the easy ways, and I was afraid. With you it +may be different. Hold on your way, then. It is not for me to +criticise. But if you slacken, if your hand droops, then I shall come +again." + +He turned abruptly away and disappeared, walking with quick, shambling +footsteps. Maraton looked after him thoughtfully for several moments, +then he continued on his way homewards. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +The last words had been spoken, the suspense of a few hours was at an +end. Maraton was on his way back to London, a duly accredited Member of +Parliament for the eastern division of Nottingham. From his place in +the railway carriage he fancied that he could hear even now the roar of +voices, feel the thrill of emotion with which he had waited for the +result. An Independent Member, even when backed as Maraton had been +backed, is never in a wholly safe position. On the whole, he had done +well. He had increased the majority of four hundred to a majority of +seven hundred. And this, too, in the face of unexpected difficulties. +At the last minute a surprise had been sprung upon the constituency. A +Labour candidate had entered the field. Maraton's telegram to Peter +Dale had produced no reply. The man, if not officially recognised, was +at least not officially discouraged. His intervention had been useless, +however. Maraton had carried the working men with him. In a sense it +was an election on the strangest issues which had ever been fought. +Many of the most far-seeing journalists of the day predicted in this new +alliance the redistribution of Parties which for some time had been +inevitable. So far as Maraton was concerned, it was, without doubt, an +unexpected phase in his career. He was Maraton, M.P., representative of +a manufacturing town; elected, indeed, as an Independent, but with a +weighty backing of the Unionist Party behind him. The next time he +spoke, probably, if he did speak before his journey to Sheffield, would +be in the House of Commons. Would he, like those others, feel the +inertia of it, the slow decay of his ambitions, the fatal tendency +towards compromise? + +Arrived at St. Pancras, Maraton drove straight to his house in Russell +Square and, letting himself in with his latch-key, made his way to the +study. The lights were still burning there. Julia and Aaron were +sitting opposite to one another at the end of the long table, a +typewriter between them and a pile of papers by Aaron's side. Julia +rose at once to her feet. + +"You are in!" she cried. "We have been telephoning all the evening. We +heard half an hour ago." + +Maraton nodded. + +"In by seven hundred. Not bad, I suppose, considering that I must have +been rather a hard nut to crack. Has Peter Dale been here?" + +Aaron shook his head. + +"He hasn't been near the place." + +Maraton's face hardened. + +"You know that they sprang a Labour candidate upon me at the last +moment? He did me no particular harm, but it was an infamous trick. I +wired to Dale yesterday and had no reply." + +"David Ross has been here," Aaron said. "We heard all about it from +him. There is dissension in the camp. Dale was in favour of +withdrawing their candidate, but Graveling wouldn't have it." + +"He did me no harm, anyway," Maraton remarked. "The Labour vote was +mine from the start." + +"So it ought to have been," Aaron declared vigorously. "What could they +do but vote for you, with Manchester staring them in the face?" + +Maraton's expression lightened, a gleam of humour twinkled in his eyes. + +"After all," he murmured, "it would have been almost Gilbertian if I had +been returned to Parliament with the Labour vote against me! . . . +Aaron, go and ring up Peter Dale. I want this matter cleared up. Ask +him when we can meet." + +Aaron left the room upon his errand. Maraton moved restlessly about the +room for a moment or two. He mixed himself a drink at the sideboard, +and lit a cigarette. Julia's eyes followed him all the time. + +"So you are a Member of Parliament," she said at last. + +"I hope you approve?" he queried. + +Julia did not answer him at once. He looked across at her from the +depth of the easy chair into which he had thrown himself. She was +wearing a plain black dress, buttoned to her throat and unrelieved even +by a linen collar or any touch of white. She was pale, and her eyes +seemed all the more beautiful for the faint violet lines beneath them. + +"Parliament has been the grave of so many men's careers," Maraton +continued. "I am fully warned. Nothing of the sort is going to happen +to me. I wouldn't have gone in now but for Foley. It's only fair. It +helps him, and he's sticking to his pledges like a man." + +"When do you go to Sheffield?" she asked. + +"Next Wednesday. No postponements." + +Julia nodded. + +"Mr. Elgood has been here this afternoon," she said, "from Sheffield. +He is the secretary of the Union, you know. He is coming again +to-morrow morning. He wants to talk to you about the boys' age limit." + +"Any letters of consequence?" + +Julia pointed a little disdainfully to a pile upon the table. + +"All invitations," she observed coldly. "Perhaps you had better look +them through." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"They are no use to me," he declared, "unless they're political?" + +He rose and stood by Julia's side, glancing idly through the heap of +papers by the side of her machine. + +"You seem to have found plenty to do, anyway," he remarked. + +"There was a great deal," she assured him. "I think I have collected +all the possible information you can need on the steel works of +Sheffield." + +"Haven't been overworking, I hope?" + +She laughed at him softly. Her parted lips seemed somehow to lighten +her face. + +"This doesn't quite compare with nine hours a day over a sewing machine, +with a hundred other girls packed into a small room," she reminded him. +"No, I haven't been overworking. I almost wished, an hour ago, that I +could find something more to do." + +"Why didn't you go out?" + +"To-morrow night is Guild night," she said. "I go out then to talk to +my girls. Miss Stevens is coming from the Lyceum Club to lecture to us +on Woman's Suffrage." + +"Do you want a vote?" he asked. + +"If it comes,"' she replied. "It isn't worth worrying about. I like my +girls, though, to be taught to think." + +There was a brief silence. Maraton was still examining the letters laid +out for his inspection. Julia was standing by his side. As the last +one slipped through his fingers, he turned quickly towards her, +oppressed by some mysterious significance in her silence. Her eyes were +luminous. She seemed to be trembling. She avoided his enquiring +glance. + +"Julia!" he exclaimed. + +She lifted her head slowly, almost unwillingly. Though her lips were +parted, she made no attempt at speech. Then the door was suddenly +opened. Aaron entered in some excitement. + +"Mr. Dale and some of the others are here now, sir," he announced. "I +heard they were on their way when I telephoned. They would like to see +you at once." + +Maraton stood for a moment quite still, without replying. Aaron gazed +across the table in some surprise. + +"What shall I say to them?" he asked. "They are here now." + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Let them come in," he directed. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The three men--Peter Dale, Abraham Weavel and Graveling filed into the +room a little solemnly. Maraton shook hands with the two former, but +Graveling, who kept his head turned away from Julia, affected not to +notice Maraton's friendly overtures. + +"So you managed it all right," Peter Dale remarked. "Pretty close fit, +wasn't it?" + +"Seven hundred," Maraton replied. "Not so bad, considering. You see, I +was a complete stranger and I am not sure that I have learnt the knack +yet of that sort of platform speaking." + +"However that may be," Abraham Weavel declared, accepting a cigar from +the box which Maraton had ordered, and standing with his hands +underneath his coat-tails upon the hearthrug, "you've done the trick. +You're an M.P., same as we are." + +"You've no objection, I hope?" Maraton remarked lightly. + +"That's as may be," Mr. Weavel observed sententiously. "We don't, so +to speak, know exactly where we are just at this moment. There's all +sorts of rumours going about, and we want them cleared up. Go on, Dale, +ask him the first question. You're spokesman, you know." + +Mr. Peter Dale threw away the match with which he had just lit his +pipe, sampled the whiskey and water to which he had helped himself with +a most liberal hand, and deliberately selected the most comfortable +chair within reach. With his hands in his trousers pockets, the thumbs +protruding, his pipe in the left-hand corner of his mouth, his eyebrows +drawn close together, he looked steadfastly towards Maraton. + +"The first question," he began stolidly, "is this. You owe your seat in +Parliament to the Unionists. What have you promised them in return? +You haven't attempted to commit us to anything, I hope?" + +"Certainly not," Maraton replied. "Such an idea never occurred to me. +So far as I know," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "Mr. Foley +is not, at the moment, in need of your support. His majority is +sufficient." + +Peter Dale frowned ominously. + +"That may or may not be," he remarked gruffly. "So long as you haven't +taken it upon yourself to pledge us to anything, well, that disposes of +question number one. The next is, where are you going to sit in the +House?" + +Maraton's eyebrows were slightly raised. + +"Where am I going to sit?" he repeated. "Remember, if you please, that +as a member I have never been inside your House of Commons. I am not +acquainted with its procedure. Where, in your opinion, ought I to sit?" + +"Your place is with us," Peter Dale declared. "I can't see that there's +any doubt about that." + +"And why?" + +"You're a Labour man, aren't you?" Peter Dale asked. "You call yourself +one, anyway. + +"If I am a Labour man," Maraton said, "why did you put up a candidate to +oppose me at Nottingham?" + +Peter Dale smoked steadily for several moments. + +"It was nowt to do with me," he announced. "The fellow sprung up all on +his own, as it were. Graveling here may have known something of it, but +so far as we are concerned he was not an authorised candidate." + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"There was nothing," he objected, "to convey that idea to the electors. +He made use of the Labour agent and the Labour committee rooms. My +telegram to you remained unanswered. Under those circumstances, I +really can scarcely see how you find it possible to disown him." + +"In any case," Abraham Weavel intervened, with conciliation in his tone, +"he didn't do himself a bit a' good nor you a bit of harm. Four hundred +and thirty votes he polled out of eight thousand, and those were votes +which otherwise would have gone to the Liberal. I should say myself +that it did you good, if anything." + +"You may be right," Maraton admitted. "At the same time, one thing is +very clear. You did not offer me the slightest official support. It is +true that I did not ask for it. I prefer, as I have told you all along, +my independence. It will be my object to continue without direct +association with any party. If I can find a place in the house allotted +to Independent Members, I shall sit there. If not, I shall sit with the +Unionists." + +Peter Dale's face darkened. This was what they had feared. + +"You mean that you're breaking away from us?" he exclaimed angrily. +"There's no room in our little party for Independent Members, no sort of +sense in a mere handful of us all pulling different ways." + +"I never joined your party, Mr. Dale," Maraton reminded him. "I have +never joined any man's party. I am for the people." + +"And what about us?" Graveling demanded. "Aren't we for the people? +Isn't that what we're in Parliament for? Isn't that why we are called +Labour Members?" + +Maraton regarded the last speaker steadily. + +"Mr. Graveling," he said, "since you have mooted the question, I will +admit that I do not consider you, as a body of men, entirely devoted to +the cause of the people. You are each devoted to your own constituency. +It is your business to look after the few thousand voters who sent you +into Parliament, and in your eagerness to serve and please them, I think +that you sometimes forget the greater, the more universal truths. I may +be wrong. That is how the matter seems to me." + +"Then since you're so frank," Peter Dale declared, with undiminished +wrath, "I'll just imitate your candour! I'll tell you how you seem to +us. You seem like a man with a gift, whose head has been turned by Mr. +Foley and his fine friends. You're full of great phrases, but there's +nothing practical about them or you. You're on your way to an easy +place for yourself in the world, and a seat in Foley's Cabinet." + +"Have you any objection," Maraton asked, "to the people's cause being +represented in the Cabinet?" + +It was the last straw, this! Peter Dale's voice shook with passion. + +"It's been a promise," he shouted, "for this many a year! A sop to the +people it was, at the last election. There's one of us ought to be in +the Cabinet--one of us, I say, not a carpetbagger!" + +"We're the wrong type of man," Graveling broke in sarcastically. +"That's what he said. He was heard to say it to the Home Secretary. +The wrong type of man he called us." + +Maraton suddenly changed his attitude. He was momentarily conscious of +Julia listening, from her place in the background, to every word with +strained attention. After all, these men had doubtless done good work +according to their capacity. + +"My friends," he protested, "why do we bandy words like this? Perhaps +it is my fault. I have had a long and tiring day, and I must confess +that I to some extent resented a Labour man being set up against me, +without a word of explanation. You mean well, all of you, I am sure, +even if we can't quite see the same way. Don't let's quarrel. I am not +used to Parties. I can't serve under any one. My vote's my own, and I +don't like the political juggery of selling it here and there for a quid +pro quo. We may sit on opposite benches, but I give you my word that +there isn't anything in the world which brings me into political life or +will keep me there, save the welfare of the people. Now shake hands, +all of you. Let us have a drink together and part friends." + +Peter Dale shook his head doggedly. He had risen to his feet--a man +filled with slow burning but bitter anger. + +"No, sir!" he declared. "Me and my mates have stood for the people for +this many a year, and we've no fancy for a fine gentleman springing up +like a Jack-in-the-box from somewhere else in the House, without any +reference to us, and yet calling himself and advertising himself as the +champion of our cause. Outside Parliament we can't stop you. The +Trades' Union men think more of you, maybe, than they do of us. But +inside you can plough your own furrow, and for my part, when you're on +your legs, the smoking-room will be plenty good enough for me!" + +"And for the rest of us!" Graveling agreed fiercely. "If you're so keen +on being independent, you shall see what you can do on your own." + +Dale was already on his way to the door, but Maraton checked him. + +"Mr. Dale," he said, "you are an older man than I am, a man of much +experience. I beg you to reflect. The feelings which prompt you +towards this action are unworthy. If you attempt to send me to +Coventry, you will simply bring ridicule upon a Party which should be +the broadest-minded in the House." + +Mr. Dale turned around. He had already crammed his black, wide-awake +hat on to his head. Like all men whose outlook upon life is limited, +the idea of ridicule was hateful to him. + +"You mark my words, young man," he growled. "The one that makes a fool +of himself is the one that's going to play the toady to a master who +will send him to heel with a kick, every time he opens his mouth to +bark! Go your own way. I'm only sorry you ever set foot in this +country." + +He passed out, followed by Weavel. Graveling only lingered upon the +threshold. He was looking towards Julia. + +"Miss Thurnbrein," he said, "can I have a word with you?" + +"You cannot," she replied steadily. + +He remained there, dogged, full of suppressed wrath. The sight of her +taking her place before the typewriter seemed to madden him. Already +she was the better for the change of work and surroundings, for the +improved conditions of her daily life. There was the promise of colour +in her cheeks. Her plain black gown was as simple as ever, but her hair +was arranged with care, and she carried herself with a new distinction, +born of her immense contentment. Her supercilious attitude attracted +while it infuriated him. + +"It's only a word I want," he persisted. "I have a right to some sort +of civility, at any rate." + +"You have no rights at all," she retorted. "I thought that we had +finished with that the last time we spoke together." + +"I want to know," he went on obstinately, "why you haven't been to work +lately?" + +"Because I have left Weinberg's," she told him curtly. "It is no +business of yours, but if it will help to get rid of you--" + +"Left Weinberg's," he repeated. "Got another job, eh?" + +"I am Mr. Maraton's assistant secretary," she announced. + +His face for a moment was almost distorted with anger. + +"You're living here--under this roof?" he demanded. + +"It is no concern of yours where or how I am living," she answered. + +"That's a lie!" Graveling exclaimed furiously. "You're my girl. I've +hung around after you for six years. I've known you since you were a +child. I'll be d--d if I'll be thrown on one side now and see you +become another man's mistress--especially his!" + +He came a step further into the room. Maraton, who had been standing +with his back to them, arranging some papers on his desk, turned slowly +around. Graveling was advancing towards him with the air of a bully. + +"Do you hear--you--Maraton?" he cried. "I've had enough of you! You +can flout us all at our work, if you like, but you go a bit too far when +you think to make a plaything of my girl. Do you hear that?" + +"Perfectly," Maraton replied. + +"And what have you got to say about it?" + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"I don't know that I have anything particular to say about it. If it +interests you to be told my opinion of you, you are welcome to hear it." + +Graveling advanced a step nearer still. His fists were clenched, an +ugly scowl had parted his lips. Julia came swiftly from her seat. Her +eyes were filled with fury. She faced Graveling. + +"Richard Graveling," she exclaimed, "I am ashamed to think that I ever +let you call yourself my friend! If you do not leave the room and the +house at once, I swear that I will never speak to you again as long as I +live!" + +He pushed her aside roughly. + +"I'll talk to you presently," he declared. "It's him that my business +is with now." + +Maraton's eyes flashed a little dangerously. + +"Keep your hands off that young lady," he ordered. + +"You'd like her to protect you, would you?" Graveling taunted. "Listen +here. I'm not the sort of man to have my girl taken away and made +another man's plaything. Is she going to stop here? Answer me +quickly." + +"As long as she chooses," Maraton replied. + +"Then take that!" Graveling shouted. + +Maraton stepped lightly to one side. Graveling was overbalanced by his +fierce blow into the empty air. The next moment he was lying on his +back, and the room seemed to be spinning around him. Maraton was +standing with his finger upon the bell. Julia was by his side, her eyes +blazing. She spoke never a word, but as Graveling struggled back to his +senses he could see the scorn upon her face. + +Aaron and a man servant entered the room simultaneously. Maraton +pointed to the figure upon the floor. + +"Aaron," he said, "your friend Mr. Graveling has met with a slight +accident. You had better take him outside and put him in a taxicab." + +Graveling rose painfully to his feet. He was very pale, and there was +blood upon his cheek. He leaned on Aaron's arm and he looked towards +Maraton and Julia. + +"Better apologise and shake hands," Maraton advised quietly. + +Graveling seemed not to have heard him. He looked towards them both, +and his fingers gripped Aaron's shoulder so that the young man winced +with pain. Then without a single word he turned towards the door. + +"Let him go!" Julia cried fiercely. "I am only thankful that you +punished him. We do not want his apologies. I hope that I may never +see him again!" + +Graveling, who had reached the door, leaning heavily upon Aaron, turned +around. His face, with the streak of blood upon his cheek, was ghastly. +He left the room between Aaron and the servant. They heard his unsteady +footsteps in the hall, a whistle, the departure of the cab. "Aaron has +gone with him," Maraton remarked quietly. "Perhaps it is as well." + +Her face suddenly relaxed and softened. The fury left her eyes; she +sank back into the easy chair. + +"I am ashamed," she moaned. "Oh, I am ashamed!" + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The sound of traffic outside had died away. The silence became almost +unnaturally prolonged. Only the echo of Julia's last words seemed, +somehow or other, to remain, words which inspired Maraton with a curious +and indefinable emotion, a pity which he could not altogether analyse. +Twice he had turned softly as though to leave the room, and twice he had +returned. He stood now upon the hearthrug, looking down at her, +perplexed, himself in some degree agitated. She was not weeping, +although every now and then her bosom rose and fell as though with some +suppressed storm. It was simply a paroxysm of sensitiveness. She was +afraid to look up, afraid to break a silence which to her was full of +consolation. Maraton, a little ashamed of the scene in which he had +been an unwilling participator, bitterly self-accusing, still found his +thoughts diverted from his own humiliation as he watched the girl--a +long, slim figure bent in one strangely graceful curve, her beautiful +hair gleaming in the soft light, her face still half hidden by her +strong, capable fingers--a figure exquisitely symbolic, full of pathos. +Her elbows rested upon her knees; she was crouched a little forward. +"Julia!" he ventured at last. + +She looked up, without undue haste but without hesitation. She had +obviously been waiting for speech from him. He saw then that his +impression had been a true one. There were no traces of tears in her +eyes, which sought his at once--sought his with a look which warned him +suddenly of his danger. Her cheeks were burning; she was still shaking +with some internal passion. + +"After all," he said soothingly, "there are such people in the world. +One can't ignore the fact of their existence. They don't really count." + +Her eyes flashed. + +"It is terrible that they should be allowed to live." + +He smiled at her sympathetically. Speech seemed somehow to lessen the +tension between them. + +"My dear Julia," he declared, "I am suffering just as much as you. I +have the feeling that I have descended to the level of a common brawler. +Yet what was I to do? he needed the lesson very badly indeed." + +"I only hope that it will last him all his life. I only hope that he +will not come near either of us again." + +"Very doubtful whether he will want to, I should think," Maraton +remarked, leaning against the table. "You certainly didn't mince your +words." + +"If I could have thought of harsher ones, I would have used them," she +asserted. + +"What a waste of time it has been this evening!" He sighed, as his +fingers turned over the pile of letters by his side. "What with Mr. +Peter Dale and his little deputation, and this idiotic person Graveling, +I have scarcely done a thing since I got home." + +"There's nothing that you need do until to-morrow," she told him softly. + +There was another brief pause. She was sitting up now--leaning back in +her chair, indeed--trembling no longer, although the colour still flamed +in her cheeks. Her eyes, which seldom left his face, were strangely, +almost liquidly soft. Maraton moved restlessly in his place. Perhaps +he had been unwise not to have stolen out of the room during the first +few moments. Julia, as he very well knew, was no ordinary person, and +he felt a sense of growing uneasiness. The tension of silence became +ominous and he spoke simply to dissipate it. + +"I hope I really didn't hurt the fellow." + +"If you had killed him," she replied, "he deserved it!" + +"He was an insulting beast, of course," Maraton continued. "After all, +though, one mustn't bring oneself down to the level of these creatures. +He saw with his eyes, and what is seen from that point of view isn't of +any account. Perhaps it isn't his fault that he hasn't learnt to govern +himself. If I were you, Julia, I wouldn't bother about it any more, +really." + +"It wasn't altogether what he said," she whispered. "It wasn't +altogether that." + +He looked at her enquiringly. + +"You mean?" + +She shook her head. + +"Tell me?" he begged. + +Once more he saw that little quiver pass through her frame. Her lips +were parted and closed again. Maraton was puzzled, but did his best to +follow her line of thought. + +"The only way to treat such a person," he continued, "is to treat him as +a lunatic. That is what he really is. I scarcely heard what he said; +already I have forgotten every word." + +"But I can't! I never can!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"My dear Julia," he protested, "I appeal to your common sense!" + +She looked at him almost angrily. Her foot beat upon the floor. + +"What has common sense to do with it!" she exclaimed. "Of course, it +was a foolish thing to say. He didn't even believe it--I am sure of +that. It was simply mad, insensate jealousy; a vicious attempt to make +me suffer. That isn't where he hurt. It was because--shall I tell +you?" + +A sudden instinct warned him. He held out his hand. + +"It will only distress you. No, I don't want to hear." + +The momentary silence seemed endowed with peculiar qualities. They +heard the little clock ticking upon the mantelpiece, the tinkle of a +hansom bell outside, the muffled sound of motor horns in the distance. +Very slowly her head drooped back once more to the shelter of her hands. + +"You don't understand," she said simply. "Why should you? I wasn't +even angry--that is the terrible part of it. I wished--I found myself +wishing--that it were true!" + +Maraton's hands suddenly gripped the edge of the table against which he +was leaning. Her face was still concealed; once more her long, slim +body was shaken with quivering sobs. + +"The shame of it!" she moaned. "That is where he hurt. The shame of +hearing it and knowing it wasn't true and of wanting it to be true! I +haven't ever thought of any one like that--he knows that well enough. +He used to call me sexless. There isn't any man in the world has ever +dared to touch my lips--he knows it." + +Maraton left his place and quietly approached her. She heard him +coming, and the trembling gradually ceased. He sat on the arm of her +chair, and his hand rested gently upon her shoulder. + +"Dear Julia," he said, "I am glad that you have been honest. Life is +always full of these emotions, you know, especially for highly-strung +people, and sometimes the atmosphere gets a little overcharged and they +blaze out as they have done this evening, and perhaps one is the better +for it." + +She remained quite motionless during his brief pause. One hand had +moved from before her face and had gripped his. + +"There's our work, you know, Julia," he went on. "There isn't +anything in the world must interfere with that. We can't divide our +lives, can we? We ought not to want to. If I could make you +understand--can I, I wonder?--how splendid it is to have some one here +by my side who understands. It seems to me that I am going to be a +little lonely. I shall have to stand on my own feet a good deal. I +rely so much upon you, Julia. You are a woman, aren't you--I mean a +real woman? I need you." + +Very slowly she raised her head. Her eyes met his freely. There was +something of the childlike adoration of an instinctive and triumphant +purity in the smile which parted her lips. Maraton understood at once +that the danger was past. The thunder had left the air. + +"You know that I am your slave," she murmured. "Don't be afraid that I +am becoming neurotic. You see, this was all a little new to me, and for +a moment I felt that I wanted to go and hide myself. That has all +passed now. I am not even ashamed. I suppose one gets terrified with +receiving so much, and wants to give. It's a very natural feminine +impulse, isn't it? And I shall give--my fingers, my brain--all I +possess." + +She rose suddenly to her feet and glanced at the clock. + +"What a day you must have had!" she exclaimed. "You are not going to +look at my Sheffield figures, even, before the morning. Oh, you'll be +surprised when you see them! You've a wonderful case. Some of the +fortunes that have been made there--that are being made there now--are +barbaric. I mustn't talk about it, or I shall get angry. Listen, +there's Aaron." + +They heard the sound of his latch-key. A moment later he entered the +room. He looked anxiously at Maraton; Julia he scarcely noticed. + +"I took him home," he announced. "He never spoke a word the whole way; +seemed stupid. I shouldn't be surprised if he hadn't got a little +concussion. + +"Did you send for a doctor?" Maraton asked. + +"His landlady was going to do that," Aaron continued. "It was all I +could do to sit in the cab by his side. I wish--yes, I almost wish that +he'd never got up from that carpet." + +"Thanks," Maraton replied. "I didn't come over here to fill the inside +of an English prison!" + +"Prison!" + +Aaron's expression of contempt was sublime. + +"There's nothing they could have done to you, sir. All the same, I only +wish that your blow had killed him." + +"Why?" + +Aaron dropped his voice for a minute. + +"Because wherever we go or move," he said, "there will always be the +snake in the grass. He will be filled forever with a poisonous hatred +for you. He will never dare to raise his hand against you to your +face--he isn't that sort of man--but he'll have his stab before he's +finished. He was born a sneak." + +Maraton smiled carelessly as he bade them good night. + +"The one thing in the world," he reminded them, "worse than having no +friends, is to have no enemies." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Eight days later, Maraton delivered his preliminary address to the +ironworkers of Sheffield, and at six o'clock the next morning the strike +had been unanimously proclaimed. The columns of the daily newspapers, +still hopelessly bound over to the interests of the capitalist, were +full of solemn warnings against this new and disturbing force in English +sociology. The _Daily Oracle_ alone paused to present a few words of +appreciation of the splendid dramatic force wielded by this +revolutionary. + +"If this man is sincere," the Oracle declared, "the country needs him. +If he is a charlatan, then for heaven's sake, even at the expense of all +the laws that were ever framed, away with him! There is no man +breathing to-day who is developing a more potent, a more wide-reaching +influence upon the destinies of our country." + +Maraton's first address had been delivered to a great multitude, but +there was no building whose roof could cover the hordes of men who had +made up their minds to hear his last words at Sheffield. From far and +wide, the people came that night in countless streams. A platform had +been arranged in the middle of the principal pleasure park of the town, +and around this, from early in the afternoon, they began to take up +their places. When night fell, so far as the eye could see, the ground +was covered with a black mass of humanity. The multitude filled the +park and crowded up the encircling streets. As the darkness deepened, +they lit torches. Beyond, down in the valley and up on the hillside, +were rows of lights and the flare of furnaces soon to be quenched. Even +that little group of hard, unimaginative men who stood with Maraton upon +the platform felt the strange thrill of the tense and swelling throng +gathered together with this inspiring background. + +It seemed to Maraton himself, as he stood there listening to the roar of +welcoming voices, as though all their white faces were gathered into +one, the prototype of suffering humanity, the sad, hollow-checked, +hollow-eyed victim of birth and heritage. His voice seemed to swell +that night to something greater than its usual volume; some peculiar +gift of penetration seemed to have been accorded him. A hundred +thousand men heard his passionate prayer to them. They were +hard-featured, hard-minded Yorkshiremen, most of them, but they never +forgot. + +"You will get the half a crown a week which your leaders demand," +Maraton told them. "Your masters--may God forgive me for using the +word!--will pay to that extent. But--if there is any justice beyond +this world, how, indeed, will they meet the debt built upon your +sufferings, your cramped lives, and the graves of your little children. +That half a crown a week, I say, will come to you. Don't dare, any of +you, to be satisfied when it does come. It isn't a few shillings only +that are owing to you. It's another social system, a rearrangement of +your whole scheme of life, under which you and your children, and your +children's children, may live with the dignity and freedom due to that +strange and common gift of life which beats in your pulses and in mine. +I am here to-night to show you the way to that extra half-crown, but I +don't want you for one moment to think that these small increases in +wages represent the end and aim of myself and those who share my +beliefs. Your day may not see it, nor mine, but history for the last +thousand years has shown us the slow emancipation of the peoples of the +world. There are many rungs in the ladder yet to be climbed. Your +children may have to take up the burden where you have left it. A +revolution may be necessary, sorrows innumerable may lie between you and +the goal of your class. And yet I bid you hope. I plead with each one +of you to remember that he is not only an individual; that he is a unit +of humanity, that he is the progenitor of unborn children, a force from +which will spring the happier and the freer generation, if not in our +time, in the days to come." + +He passed on to speak for a few moments about the reconstituted state of +Society, which was his favourite theme, and from that to a peroration +unprepared--fiercely, passionately eloquent. When he had finished +speaking, the air seemed curiously dull and lifeless; an extraordinary +silence, like the silence before a thunderstorm, brooded over the place. +Then the human sea broke its bounds. The smut-blackened trees quivered +with the thunder of their voices. Showers of sparks rose into the air +from the torches they waved. It was a pandemonium of sound. They came +on like a mighty flood, before whose force the dam has suddenly yielded. +The platform was crushed like a nutshell before their onslaught. They +were mad with a great enthusiasm, beside themselves with a passion +stirred only in such men once or twice in a lifetime. The roar of their +voices, as they shouted his name, reached even to the station, to which +Maraton had been smuggled secretly in a fast motor-car--a disappearance +which a great journalist on the next morning alluded to as the one +supremely dramatic touch in a night of wonders. The roar of voices +indeed was still in his ears as he stood before the window of his +compartment, looking out over the fire-hung city with its vaporous +flames, its huge furnaces, its glare which was already becoming fainter. +A myriad lights still twinkled upon the hillsides; the smoke-stained sky +was red with the reflection of those thousand torches. Even as the +train rushed on into the darkness, he could hear the echo of their cry +as they sought for him. + +"Maraton! Maraton!" + +He threw himself at last into a corner seat of his compartment, and +conscious of a somewhat rare physical exhaustion, he rang the bell for +the attendant and ordered refreshments. The evening papers were by +his side, but he had no fancy to read. The thrill of the last few +hours was still upon him. He sat with folded arms, looking idly through +the window at the chaotic prospect. Suddenly he was aware that the door +of his compartment had been opened. A man had entered and was taking +the seat opposite to him, a man whose appearance struck Maraton at once +as being vaguely familiar, a man who smiled at him almost with the air +of an old acquaintance. + +"You don't recognise me, I can see," the newcomer said, smiling +slightly, "yet we ought to know one another." + +Maraton looked at the intruder curiously. It was, in many respects, a +remarkable face; a low, heavy forehead; eyes in which shone the +unmistakable light; broad, firm mouth; fair hair, left unusually long. +In figure the man was short and stout. His collar had parted, and a +black bow of unusual size was drooping from his shoulder. He was +slightly out of breath, too, as though he had but recently recovered +from some strenuous exercise. + +"I will save you from speculations--I am Henry Selingman," he +pronounced. + +Maraton held out his hand. + +"Selingman!" he exclaimed. "It is your photographs, of course, then. +We have never met." + +"Never until to-night," Selingman admitted. "When I heard that you were +in England, I made up my mind to come over. To-night seemed to me +propitious. I wanted to understand this marvellous power of yours of +which so many people have written. Nothing has been exaggerated. The +message which I have struggled to deliver to the world through my +poetry, my plays, such prose as I have ventured upon, you yourself can +tear from your heart and throw to the people's own ears. . . . +Forgive me--I, too, will smoke. I will drink wine, also," he added, +ringing the bell. "I had a dozen friends to help me, but every bone in +my body aches with the struggle to escape. You maddened them, those +people. It was magnificent." + +He ordered champagne from the attendant and began to smoke a long black +cigar, nervously and quickly. + +"To-night I shall write of this," he went on. "I have lived for +forty-five years and I have hunted all over the world, and in my study I +have conjured up all the visions a man may, but never yet has there been +anything like this. The black hillside a mass of soft black velvet, +jewelled like a woman's gown, the red fires from the blasting furnaces, +the shower of sparks from a thousand torches, the glow upon the fog +poisoned sky, those faces--God, how white! Never in my life have I seen +the writing of the finger of the Messiah as I saw it to-night! It has +been the hour of a lifetime. Maraton, over there, man, our toilers are +toilers indeed, but not like that. It isn't stamped into them. No, +they're not branded." + +"Over there?" Maraton repeated. + +"Belgium, Germany," Selingman continued, "Germany chiefly. Our +Socialism has done better for us than that. It has kindled a little +fire in the heart of the men, and from its warmth has sprung something +of that self-respect which will be the seed of the new humanity. I want +you over there, Maraton. I want to show you. Your heart will warm with +joy. God, what food for hell are your manufacturers here! How they'll +burn!" + +"The curse of England is its terrible middle class," Maraton said +slowly. "The present generation is the first even to dimly realise it. +Our aristocracy is no better nor any worse than the aristocracy of other +nations; rather better, perhaps, than worse. But our middle class rules +the land. They represent the voting power. They conceal their real +sentiments under the name of Liberalism, they keep their heel upon the +neck of Labour. I tell you, when the revolution comes, it will be +Hampstead and Kensington the mob will sack and burn, not Park Lane and +Grosvenor Square." + +"You're right," Selingman agreed; "of course you're right. You and I +make no mistakes. We are of the order of those whose eyes were touched +in the cradle. Maraton, sometimes I am sorry I'm an artist, sometimes I +loathe this sense of beauty which drives my pen into the pleasanter +ways. There's only one thing in the world for you and me to work for. +The world to-day doesn't deserve the offerings of the artist until it +has purged itself. I waste my time writing plays, but then, after all, +I am not English. If those were my people, Maraton, I doubt whether my +pen could ever have wandered even for a moment into the pleasant ways." + +Maraton sighed. + +"There is America, too," he groaned. + +"A conglomeration," Selingman declared hastily, "not to be reckoned with +yet as a nation. What is born amongst the older peoples must find its +way there by natural law. It is not a country for commencements. +England--it is England where the harvest is ripe. What are you doing, +man?" + +Maraton looked thoughtfully out of the window. The train was gathering +speed; they were travelling now at a great pace. Outside, the twilight +was fading. A black cloud had passed across the rising moon. The +electric light illuminated the carriage. It was almost as though they +were passing through a tunnel. + +"You ask me almost the saddest question one could ask," he replied +gently. "I am working for posterity. There is no other course. I +called those people together to-night at Sheffield for the sake of half +a crown a week extra wages. It will make life a little easier for them, +and I suppose every atom of prosperity must count in the sum of their +future and their children's future." + +"Spent in beer, most likely," Selingman muttered. "Why not?" Maraton +exclaimed. "The possession of money to spend in luxuries of any sort +must add something, at least, to their dignity. It means a lightening +of the heart for a moment, an impulse of gladness. Why should we judge? +Beer is only a prototype of other things. Then, Selingman, mark this. +I brought the men of Lancashire out on strike some few weeks ago, and +Sheffield now is following suit. It is a matter of a few shillings a +week only, it is true, but I am very careful to tell them always that it +is simply a compromise which I am advocating. These small increases are +nothing. The operatives have a nature-given right to a share in the +product of their labour. In these days their slave hire is thrown at +them by an interloping person who calls himself an employer. In the +days to come it will be different." + +"You beat time, then!" Selingman cried. "You head the waves! My friend +Maraton, they are right, those who turned me out of my villa at +Versailles and sent me over to you. They were right, indeed! I have +business with you, man--an inspiration to share. Ours is a great +meeting. You know Maxendorf?" + +"By name," Maraton admitted, a little startled. + +"A profound thinker," Selingman declared, "a mighty thinker, a giant, a +pioneer. I tell you that he sees, Maraton. He has pitched his tent +upon the hill-top. What do you know of him?" + +"Chiefly," Maraton replied, "that he is an aristocrat, a diplomatist, +and the future ambassador here of a country I do not love." + +Selingman drained a glass of champagne before he answered. He lit +another of his long, thin cigars and smoked furiously. + +"Aristocrat--yes," he assented, "but you do not know Maxendorf. He will +be a joy to you, man. Oh, he sees! The day of the millions is coming, +and he knows it. On the Continent our middle class isn't like yours. +The conflict will never be so terrible. Thank God, our Labour stands +already with its feet upon the ground. With us, development is all that +is necessary. But you--you are up against a cul-de-sac, a black +mountain of prejudice and custom. Nothing can save you but an +earthquake or a revolution, and you know it. You came to England with +those ideas, Maraton. You have turned opportunist. It was the only +thing left for you. You didn't happen to see the one way out. +To-morrow it will be a new day with you. To-morrow we will show you." + +They were rushing into London now. Selingman rose to his feet. + +"At seven o'clock to-morrow I shall fetch you," he announced, "that is, +if I do not come in the morning. I may come before--I may give you the +whole day for your own. I make no promise. Your address--write it +down. I have no memory." + +Maraton wrote it and passed it over. Selingman thrust it into his +pocket. + +"I go to work," he cried. "Some part of the genius of your voice shall +tremble to-morrow in the genius of my prose. I promise you that. +'Listen,' our friend Maxendorf would say, 'to the vainest man in +Europe!' But I know. No man knows himself save himself. Adieu!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The lengthy reports of his Sheffield visit and speeches, of which the +newspapers made great capital, an extraordinary impression of the same +in Selingman's wonderful prose, and the caprice of a halfpenny paper, +made Maraton suddenly the most talked about man in England. A notoriety +which he would have done much to have avoided was forced upon him. +Early on the morning following his return, his house was besieged with a +little stream of journalists, photographers, politicians, men and women +of all orders and degrees, seeking for a few moments' interview with the +man of the hour. Maraton retreated precipitately into his smaller study +at the back of the house, and left Aaron to cope as well as he might +with the assailing host. Every now and then the telephone bell rang, +and Aaron made his report. + +"There are fourteen men here who want to interview you," he announced, +"all from good papers. If you won't be interviewed, some of them want a +photograph." + +"Send them away," Maraton directed. "Tell them the only photograph I +ever had taken is in the hands of the Chicago police." + +"There's the editor here himself from the _Bi-Weekly_." + +"My compliments and excuses," Maraton replied. "I will be interviewed +by no one." + +"There's a representative from the _Oracle_ here," Aaron continued, "who +wants to know your exact position in connection with the Labour Party. +What shall I say?" + +"Tell him to apply to Mr. Dale!" Maraton answered. + +"Mr. Foley and Lady Elisabeth Landon are outside in a car. Mr. +Foley's compliments, and if you could spare a moment, they would be glad +to come in and see you." + +Maraton hesitated. + +"You had better let them come in. + +"Shall I go?" Julia asked. + +Maraton shook his head. + +"Stay where you are," he enjoined. "Perhaps they will go sooner, if +they see that I am at work with you." + +Mr. Foley was in his best and happiest mood. He shook hands heartily +with Maraton. Elisabeth said nothing at all, but Maraton was conscious +of one swift look into his eyes, and of the--fact that her fingers +rested in his several seconds longer than was necessary. + +"We are profoundly mortified, both my niece and I," Mr. Foley said. +"Never have I had so many journalists on my doorstep, even on that +notorious Thursday when they thought that I was going to declare war. I +really fancy, Maraton, that they are going to make a celebrity of you. +Have you seen the papers?" + +"I have read Selingman's sketch," Maraton replied. + +"They say," Mr. Foley went on, "that he wrote all night at the office +in Fleet Street, and that his sheets were flung into type as he wrote +them. Selingman, too--the great Selingman! You know him?" + +"He travelled down from Sheffield with me last night," Maraton answered. + +"A more dangerous person even than you," Mr. Foley observed, "and an +Anglophobe. Never mind, what did we call about, Elisabeth?" + +"Well, we were really on our way to the city," his niece reminded him. +"It was you who suggested, when we were at the top of the Square, that +we should call in and see Mr. Maraton." + +"There was something in my mind," Mr. Foley persisted. "I remember. +Next Friday is the last day of the session, you know, Mr. Maraton. We +want you to go down to Scotland with us for a week." + +Maraton shook his head. + +"It is very kind of you," he said, "but I shall take no holiday. I need +none. I have endless work here during the vacation. There are some +industries I have scarcely looked into at all. And there is my Bill, +and the draft of another one to follow. Thank you very much, Mr. +Foley, all the same." + +Elisabeth set down the illustrated paper which she had picked up. She +looked across at Maraton. + +"Don't you think for one week, Mr. Maraton," she suggested softly, +"that you could bring your work with you. You could have a study in a +quiet corner of the house, and if you did not care to bring a +secretary, I would promise you the services of an amateur one." + +Perhaps by accident, as she spoke, she glanced across at Julia, and +perhaps by accident Julia at that moment happened to glance up. Their +eyes met. Julia, from the grim loneliness of her own world, looked +steadfastly at this exquisite type of the things in life which she +hated. + +"You are very kind," Maraton repeated, "but indeed I must not think of +it. It seems to me," he went on, after a slight hesitation, "that every +time lately when I have stood at the halting of two ways, and have had +to make up my mind which to follow, I have been forced by circumstances +to choose the easier way. This time, at least, my duty is quite plain. +I have work to do in London which I cannot neglect." + +Elisabeth picked up the paper which she had set down the moment before. +Her eyes had been quick to appreciate the smothered fierceness of +Julia's gaze. At Maraton she did not glance. + +"Well, I am sorry," Mr. Foley said. "You are a young man now, Maraton, +but one works the better for a change. I didn't come to talk shop, but +you've set a nice hornet's nest about our heads up in Sheffield." + +"There are many more to follow," Maraton assured him. + +Mr. Foley chuckled. His sense of humour was indomitable. + +"If there is one thing in the Press this morning," he declared, "more +pronounced than the diatribes upon your speech, it is the number of +compliments paid to me for my perspicuity in extending the hand of +friendship to the most dangerous political factor at present +existent,--vide the _Oracle_. I've wasted many hours arguing with some +of my colleagues. If I had known what was coming, I might just as well +have sat tight and waited for to-day. I am vindicated, whitewashed. +Only the Opposition are furious. They are trying to claim you as a +natural member of the Radical Party. Shouldn't be surprised if they +didn't approach you to-day sometime." + +Maraton smiled. + +"The people I am in the most disgrace with," he observed, "are my own +little lot." + +"That needn't worry you," Mr. Foley rejoined. "Our Labour Members are +not a serious body. The forces they represent are all right, but they +seem to have a perfectly devilish gift of selecting the wrong +representatives. . . . You'll be in the House this afternoon?" +Certainly! + +"I shall be rather curious to see what sort of a reception they give +you," Mr. Foley continued. "You couldn't manage to walk in with me, I +suppose? It would mean such a headline for the _Daily Oracle!_" + +Elisabeth glanced up from her paper. + +"I am afraid, uncle," she remarked, "that _Punch_ was right when it said +that your sense of humour would always prevent your becoming a great +politician." + +"Let _Punch_ wait until I claim the title," Mr. Foley retorted, +smiling. "No man has ever consented to be Premier who was a great +politician--in these days, at any rate. I doubt, even, whether our +friend Maraton would be a successful Premier. I fancy that if ever he +aspires so high, it will be to the Dictatorship of the new republic." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Even the _Oracle_," he reminded them, "is convinced that I have no +personal ambitions." + +Mr. Foley took up his hat. He had been in high good humour throughout +the interview. Already he was looking forward to meeting his +colleagues. + +"Well, we'll be off, Maraton," he said. "We had no right to come and +disturb you at this time in the morning, only we were really anxious to +book you for our quiet week in Scotland. Change your mind about it, +there's a good fellow. I shall be your helpless prey up there. You +could make of me what you would." Maraton shook his head very firmly. + +"It is not possible," he answered. "Please do not think that I do not +appreciate your hospitality--and your kindness, Lady Elisabeth." + +She looked at him for a moment rather curiously. There was something of +reproach in her eyes; something, too, which he failed to understand. +She did not speak at all. + +"Miss Thurnbrein," Maraton begged, "will you see Mr. Foley and Lady +Elisabeth out? It sounds cowardly, doesn't it," he added, "but I really +don't think that I dare show myself." + +Julia rose slowly to her feet and passed towards the door, which Maraton +was holding open. She lingered outside while Maraton shook hands with +his two visitors, then would have hurried on in advance, but that +Elisabeth stopped her. + +"Do tell me," she asked, "you are the Miss Thurnbrein who has written so +much upon woman labour, aren't you?" + +"I have written one or two articles," Julia replied, looking straight +ahead of her. + +"I read one in the National Review," Elisabeth continued, "and another +in one of the evening papers. I can't tell you, Miss Thurnbrein, how +interested I was." + +Julia turned and looked slowly at her questioner. Her cheeks seemed +more pallid than usual, her eyes were full of smouldering fire. + +"I didn't write to interest people," she said calmly. "I wrote to +punish them, to let them know a little of what they were guilty." + +"But surely," Elisabeth protested, "you make some excuse for those who +have really no opportunity for finding out? There is a society now, I +am told, for watching over the conditions of woman labour in the east +end. Is that so really?" + +"There is such a society," Julia admitted. "I am the secretary of it." + +"You must let me join," Elisabeth begged. "Please do. Won't you come +and see me one afternoon--any afternoon--and tell me all about it? +Indeed I am in earnest," she went on, a little puzzled at the other's +unresponsiveness. "This isn't just a whim. I am really interested in +these matters, but it is so hard to help, unless one is put in the right +way." + +"The time has passed," Julia pronounced, "when patronage is of any +assistance to such societies as the one we were speaking of. Nothing is +of any use now but hard, grim work. We don't want money. We don't need +support of any kind whatever. We need work and brains." + +"I am afraid," Elisabeth said, as she held out her hand, "that you think +I am incapable of either." + +Julia's lips were tightly compressed. She made no reply. Mr. Foley +glanced back at her curiously as they stepped into the car. + +"What a singularly forbidding young woman!" he remarked. + +Elisabeth shrugged her shoulders. It is given to women to understand +much! . . . The car glided off. As they neared the corner of the +Square, they passed a stout, foreign-looking man with an enormous head, +a soft grey hat set far back, a quantity of fair hair, and the +ingenuous, eager look of a child. He was hurrying towards the corner +house and scarcely glanced in their direction. Mr. Foley, however, +leaned forward with interest. + +"Who is that strange-looking person?" Elisabeth asked. + +Mr. Foley became impressive. + +"One of the greatest writers and philosophers of the day," he replied. +"I expect he is on his way to see Maraton. That was Henry Selingman." + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Selingman took little heed of the cordon around Maraton. He brushed +them all to one side, and when at last confronted by the final barrier, +in the shape of Julia, he only patted her gently upon the back. + +"Ah, but my dear child," he exclaimed, "you do not understand! Listen. +I raise my voice, I shout--like this--'Maraton, it is I who am +here--Selingman!' You see, he will come if he is within hearing. You +know of me, you pale-faced child? You have heard of Selingman, is it +not so?" + +Before Julia could answer, the door of the study was opened. + +"Come in," Maraton called out from an invisible place. + +Selingman, with a little bow of triumph to Julia, passed down the +passage and into the library. He threw his hat upon the sofa and held +out both his hands to Maraton. Julia, who had followed him, sank into a +chair before her typewriter. + +"I have made you famous, my friend," he declared. "You may quote these +words in after life as representing the full sublimity of my conceit, +but it is true. Have you read my 'Appreciation' in the _Oracle?_" + +"I have," Maraton admitted, smiling. + +"The real thing," Selingman continued, "crisp and crackling with genius. +As they read it, the photographers took down their cameras, the editors +whispered to their journalists to be off to Russell Square, the ladies +began to pen their cards of invitation." + +"That's all very well," Maraton remarked, a little grimly, "but where do +I come in? I have no time for the journalists, I refuse to be +photographed, and I am not likely to accept the invitations. It takes +my two secretaries half their time to wade through my correspondence and +to decide which of it is to be pitched into the waste-paper basket. I +am not a dealer in quack remedies, or an actor. I don't want +advertisement." + +"Pooh, my friend!--pooh!" Selingman retorted, drawing out his worn +leather case and thrusting one of the long black cigars into his mouth. +"Everything that is spontaneous in life is good for you--even +advertisement. But listen to my news. It is great news, believe +me. . . . A match, please." + +Maraton struck a vesta and handed it to him. Selingman transferred the +flame to a piece of paper from the waste-paper basket and puffed +contentedly at his cigar. + +"I light not cigars with a flavour like this, with a wax vesta," he +explained. "Where was I? Oh, I know--the news! This morning I have +received a message. Maxendorf has left for England." Maraton smiled. + +"Is that all?" he said. "I could have told you that myself. The fact +is announced in all the morning papers." + +"He will be at the Ritz Hotel to-night," Selingman continued, unruffled. +"When he arrives, I shall be there. We speak together for an hour and +then I come for you." + +"I shall be glad to meet Maxendorf," Maraton agreed quietly. "He is a +great man. But don't you think for his first few days in England it +would be better to leave him alone, so far as I am concerned?" + +"Later I will remind you of those words," Selingman declared. "For a +genius you see no further than the end of your nose. They tell me that +when you landed, there were prophets in the East End who rose up and +shouted--'Maraton is come! Maraton is here!' No more--just the simple +announcement--as though that fact alone were changing life. Very well. +I will be your prophet and you shall be the people. I will say to you, +as they cried to the Children of Israel groaning under their +toil--Maxendorf has come! Maxendorf is here!" + +Maraton was silent for a moment. He was sitting on the edge of the +table, with folded arms. His visitor was pacing up and down the room, +blowing out dense volumes of smoke. + +"You have more in your mind, Selingman, than you have told me," he said. + +"What is there that is hidden from the eye of genius?" Selingman cried, +with a theatrical wave of the hand. "More than I have told you +indeed--more than I shall tell you. One thing, at least, I have learnt +in my struggles with the pen, and that is to avoid the anti-climax. It +is a great thing to remember that. So I am dumb, I speak no more. . . +Why don't you send your poor little secretary out for a walk? +Mademoiselle, forgive me, but he works you too hard." + +She looked up at him, smiling. + +"I worked very much harder before I came here," she answered quietly. + +"I am fortunate in my secretary," Maraton interposed. "This is Miss +Julia Thurnbrein, Selingman. I don't suppose you read our reviews, but +Miss Thurnbrein is an authority on woman labour." + +"I read nothing," Selingman declared, moving over and grasping her by +the hand. "I read nothing. People are my books. I am forty-five years +old. I have done with reading. I know a great deal, I have read a +great deal; I read no more. Miss Julia Thurnbrein, you say. Well, I +like the name of Julia. Only, young lady, you would do better to spend +a little more time with the roses, and a little less under the roofs of +this grey city. Youth, you know, youth is everything. You work best +for others by realising the joys of life yourself. I, too, am a +philanthropist, Miss Julia--I don't like your other name--I, too, think +and write for others. I, too, have dreams of a millennium, of days when +the huge wheel shall be driven to a different tune, and faces be lifted +to the skies that hang now towards the gutters. But details annoy me, +details I cannot master. I do not want to know how many sufferers there +are in the world and what particular sum they starve upon. I leave +others to do that work. I only point forward to the day of +emancipation. Put your hand in mine and I will show you in time where +the clouds will first break." + +Julia smiled at him a little sadly. + +"Perhaps it is as well," she said, "that we have champions who do not +care for detail. It is detail and the sight of suffering which sap all +the enthusiasms out of us before our time." + +Selingman frowned at her angrily. He blew out another cloud of smoke. + +"You make me angry," he asserted. "I love your sex, I adore womanhood. +I look upon a beautiful woman as a gift to the world. Beauty is a gift +to be made much of, to be nourished, to be glorified. You are tired, +young woman. You work too hard. You have the rare gift--has any one +ever told you that you are beautiful?" + +Julia stared at him, her lips a little parted, half angry, half +wondering. + +"Look at her," Selingman continued, turning to Maraton. "She has the +slim body, the long, delicate figure of those Botticellis we all +love--except the Russians. I never yet met a Russian who could +appreciate a Botticelli. And her eyes--look at them, man. And you let +her sit there till the hollows are forming in her cheeks. Be ashamed of +yourself. Take her out into the country. One works just as well in the +sunshine. You do better work if you can smell flowers growing around +you while your brain is active. Lend her to me for a week. I'll take +her to my cottage in the Ardennes. There I live with the sun--breakfast +at sunrise, to bed at sunset. I will dictate to you, Miss +Julia--dictate beautiful things. You shall be proud always. You shall +say--'I have worked for Selingman. Conceited ass!' you will probably +add. Thank Heavens that I am conceited! Nothing is so splendid in life +as to know your own worth. Nothing makes so much for happiness. . . . +Maraton, where shall I find you to-night?" + +"In the House of Commons, probably," Maraton replied. "But take my +advice. Leave Maxendorf alone for a few days." + +"We will see--we will see," Selingman went on, a little impatiently. +"Come, I have nothing to do--nothing whatever. I came to London to see +you, Maraton. You must put up with me. Work--put it away. The sun +shines. Let us all go into the country. I will get a car. Or what of +the river? Perhaps not. I am too restless, I cannot sit still. I will +walk about always. And I cannot swim. We will take a car and sometimes +we will walk. I go to fetch it now, eh?" + +Maraton glanced helplessly at Julia. They both laughed. + +"I have to be back at four o'clock," the former said. "I have an +appointment at the House of Commons then." + +"Excellent!" Selingman declared. "I go there with you. Your House of +Commons always fascinates me. I hear you speak, perhaps? No? What +does it matter? I will hear the others drone. I go to fetch a car." + +Maraton held out his hand. + +"I have a car," he observed. "It is waiting now at the back entrance. +You had better get your things on, Miss Thurnbrein. I can see that we +have come under the influence of a master spirit." + +She looked at the pile of letters by her side, but Maraton only shook +his head. + +"We must parody his own phrase and declare that 'Selingman is here!'" he +said. "Go and put your things on and tell Aaron. We will steal out +like conspirators at the back door." + +They lunched at a roadside inn in Buckinghamshire, an inn ivy-covered, +with a lawn behind, and a garden full of cottage flowers. Selingman +with his own hands dragged out the table from the little sitting-room, +through the open windows to a shaded corner of the lawn, drew the cork +from a bottle of wine, and taking off his coat, started to make a salad. + +"Insects everywhere," he remarked cheerfully. "Hold your parasol over +my salad, please, Miss Julia. So! What does it matter? Where there +are flowers and trees there must be insects. Let them live their day of +life." + +"So long as we don't eat them!" Julia protested. + +"I have tasted insects in South America which were delicious," Selingman +assured them. "There--leave your parasol over the salad, and, Maraton, +move the ice-pail a little more into the shade. Now, while they set the +luncheon, we will walk in that little flower garden, and I will tell +you, if you like, a story of mine I once wrote, the story of two roses. +I published it, alas! It is so hard to save even our most beautiful +thoughts from the vulgarity of print, in these days where +everything--love and wine, and even the roses themselves--cost money. +Bah!" + +"The story, please," Julia begged. + +He walked in the middle and took an arm of each of his companions. + +"So you would hear my little story?" he exclaimed. "Then listen." + +They obeyed. Presently he forgot himself. His eyes were half-closed, +his thoughts seemed to have wandered into the strangest places. As his +allegory proceeded, he seemed to drift away from all knowledge of his +immediate surroundings. He chose his words always with the most +exquisite and precise care. They listened, entranced. Then suddenly he +stopped short in the path. + +"For half an hour have I been giving of myself," he declared. "Almost I +faint. Come." + +He tightened his grasp upon their arms and started walking with short, +abrupt footsteps--and great haste for the luncheon table. + +"Fool that I am!" he muttered. "It is one o'clock, and I lunch always +at half-past twelve. I must eat quickly. See, the waiter looks at us +sorrowfully. What of the omelette, I wonder? Come, Miss Julia, at my +right hand there. Ah! was I not right? The roses are creeping +already--creeping into their proper place. Sit back in your chair and +eat slowly and drink the yellow wine, and listen to the humming of those +bees. So soon you will become normal, a woman, just what you should be. +Heavens! It is well that I came to see Maraton. When I saw you this +morning in that room, I said to myself--'There is a human creature who +half lives. What a sin to half live!' . . . Taste that salad, +Maraton. Taste it, man, and admit that it is well that I came." + +They were alone in the garden--the inn was a little way off the main +road and they had discovered it entirely by accident. Both Julia and +Maraton yielded gracefully enough to the influence of their companion's +personality. + +"Whether it is well for us or not," Maraton remarked, as he watched the +wine flow into his glass, "to yield up one's will like this, to become +even as a docile child, I do not know, but it is very pleasant. It is +an hour of detachment." + +"It is the secret of youth, the secret of life, the secret of joy," +Selingman declared. "Detachment is the word. Life would make slaves of +all of us, if one did not sometimes square one's shoulders and say--'No, +thank you, I have had enough! Good-bye! I return presently.' One needs +a will, perhaps, but then, what is life without will? I myself was at +work. The greatest theatrical manager in the world kept sentry before +my door. The greatest genius who ever trod upon the stage sent me +frantic messages every few hours. Then they spoke to me of Maraton. I +heard the cry--'Maraton is here!' I heard the thunder from across the +seas. Up from my desk, out from my room--hysterics, entreaties, nothing +stopped me. No luggage worth mentioning. Away I come, to London, to +Sheffield--what a place! To-morrow--to-morrow or the next day I return, +full of life and vigour. It is splendid. I broke away. No one else +could have done it. I left them in tears. What did I care? It is for +myself--for myself I do these things. Unless I myself am at my best, +what have I to give the world? Miss Julia, your health! To the roses, +and may they never leave your cheeks! No, don't go yet. There are +strawberries coming." + +Maraton and his host sat together for a few moments in the garden before +they started on their return journey. Selingman leaned across the +table. He had forgotten to put on his coat, and he sat unabashed in his +shirt sleeves. He had drunk a good deal of wine, and the little beads +of perspiration stood out upon his forehead. + +"Maraton," he said, "you need me. You are like the others. When the +fire has touched their eyes and indeed they see the things that are, +they fall on their knees and they tear away at the weeds and rubbish +that cumber the earth, and they never lift their eyes, and soon their +frame grows weary and their heart cold. Be wise, man. The mark is upon +you. Those live best and work best in this world who have a soul for +its beauties. Women, for instance," he went on, smoking furiously. +"What help do you make of women? None! You sit at one end of the +table, your secretary at the other. You don't look at her. She might +have pig's eyes, for anything you know about it. Idiot! And she--not +quite as bad, perhaps. Women feel a little, you know, that they don't +show. Why not marry, Maraton? No? Perhaps you are right. And yet +women are wonderful. You can't do your greatest work, Maraton, you +never will reach your greatest work, unless a woman's hand is yours." + +They rode back to London in comparative silence. Selingman frankly and +openly slept, with his grey hat on the back of his head, his untidy feet +upon the opposite cushions, his mouth wide open. Maraton more than once +found himself watching Julia covertly. There was no doubt that in her +strange, quiet way she was beautiful. As he sat and looked at her, his +thoughts travelled back to the little garden, the sheltered corner under +the trees, the curious sense of relaxation which in that short hour +Selingman had inspired. Was the man indeed right, his philosophy sound? +Was there indeed wisdom in the loosening of the bonds? He met her eyes +suddenly, and she smiled at him. With her--well, he scarcely dared to +tell himself that he knew how it was. He closed his eyes again. A +thought had come to him sweeter than any yet. + +As they neared London, Selingman awoke, smiled blandly upon them, +brushed the cigar ash from his coat and waistcoat, put on his hat and +looked about him with interest. + +"So we are arrived," he said presently. "The Houses of Parliament, eh? +I enter with you, Maraton. You find me a corner where I sleep while the +others speak, and wake at the sound of your voice. Afterwards, late +to-night, we shall go to Maxendorf." + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +It happened to be a quiet evening in the House, and Maraton and +Selingman dined together at a little before eight o'clock. Selingman's +personality was too unusual to escape attention, and as his identity +became known, a good many passers-by looked at them curiously. Some one +sent word to Mr. Foley of their presence, and very soon he came in and +joined them. + +"Six years ago this month, Mr. Selingman," the Prime Minister reminded +him, "we met at Madame Hermene's in Paris. You were often there in +those days." + +Selingman nodded vigorously. + +"I remember it perfectly," he said--"perfectly. It was a wonderful +evening. An English Cabinet Minister, the President of France, +Coquelin, Rostand, and I myself were there. A clever woman! She knew +how to attract. In England there is nothing of the sort, eh?" + +"Nothing," Mr. Foley admitted. "I am going to beg you both to come on +to me to-night. My niece is receiving a few friends. But I can promise +you nothing of the same class of attraction, Mr. Selingman." + +"We cannot come," Selingman declared, without hesitation. "I take my +friend Maraton somewhere. As we sit here, Mr. Foley, we have spoken of +politics. You are a great man. If any one can lift your country from +the rut along which she is travelling, you will do it. A Unionist Prime +Minister and you hold out the hand to Maraton! But what foresight! +What acumen! You see beyond the thunder-clouds the things that we have +seen. Not only do you see them, but you have the courage to follow your +convictions. What a mess you are making of Parties!" + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Ah, well, you see," he said, "I am no politician. It is the one claim +I have upon posterity that I am the first non-politician who ever became +Prime Minister." + +"Excellent! Excellent!" Selingman murmured. + +"Maraton, alas!" Mr. Foley continued, "is only half a convert. As yet +he wears his yoke heavily." + +"A queer place for him," Selingman declared. "I looked down and saw him +there this evening. I listened to the dozen words he spoke. He seemed +to me rather like a lawyer, who, having a dull case, says what he has to +say and sits down. Does he do any real good here, Mr. Foley?" + +"It is from these walls," the Prime Minister reminded him, "that the +laws of the country are framed." + +Selingman shook his head slowly. + +"Academically correct," he admitted, "and yet, walls of brick and stone +may crumble and split. The laws which endure come into being through +the power of the people." + +"Don't throw cold water upon my compromise," Mr. Foley begged. "We are +hoping for great things. We are fighting the class against which you +have written so splendidly; we are fighting the bourgeoisie, tooth and +nail. One thing is certainly written--that if Maraton here stands by my +side for the next seven years, Labour will have thrown off one, at +least, of the shackles that bind her. Isn't it better to release her +slowly and gradually, than to destroy her altogether by trying more +violent means?" + +"Ah, who knows!" Selingman remarked enigmatically. "Who knows! . . . +And what of the rest of the evening? Are there more laws to be +made--more speeches?" + +"Finished," Mr. Foley replied. "There is nothing more to be done. +That is why I am proposing that you two men go to your rooms, make +yourselves look as much like Philistines as you can, and come and pay +your respects to my niece. Lady Elisabeth is complaining a little about +you, Maraton," he went on. "You are a rare visitor." + +"Lady Elisabeth is very kind," Maraton murmured. + +"I wish that we could come," Selingman said. "If I lived here long, I +would bustle our friend Maraton about. To-day I have had him a little +way into the country, him and his pale-faced secretary, and I have +poured sunshine down upon them, and wine, and good things to eat. Oh, +they are very narrow, both of them, when they look out at life! Not so +am I. I love to feel the great thoughts swinging through my brain, but I +love also the good things of life. I love the interludes of careless +joys, I love all the pleasant things our bodies were meant to +appreciate. Those who do not, they wither early. I do not like pale +cheeks. Therefore, I wish that I could stay a little time with this +friend of ours. I would see that he paid his respects to all the +charming ladies who were ready to welcome him." + +Mr. Foley laughed softly. + +"What a marvellous mixture you would make, you two!" he observed. "Your +prose and Maraton's eloquence, your philosophy and his tenacity. So you +won't come? Well, I am disappointed." + +"We go to see a friend of mine," Selingman announced. "We go to pay our +respects to a man famous indeed, a man who will make history in your +country." + +Mr. Foley's expression suddenly changed. He leaned a little across the +table. + +"Are you speaking of Maxendorf?" + +Selingman nodded vigorously. + +"Since you have guessed it--yes," he admitted. "We go to Maxendorf. I +take Maraton there. It will be a great meeting. We three--we represent +much. A great meeting, indeed." + +Mr. Foley's face was troubled. + +"Maxendorf only arrives to-night," he remarked presently. + +"What matter?" Selingman replied. "He is like me--he is tireless, and +though his body be weary, his brain is ever working." + +"What do they say on the Continent about his coming?" Mr. Foley +enquired. "We thought that he was settled for life in Rome." + +Selingman shook his head portentously. + +"Politics," he declared, "ah! in the abstract they are wonderful, but +in the concrete they do not interest me. Maxendorf has come here, +doubtless, with great schemes in his mind." + +"Schemes of friendship or of enmity?" Mr. Foley asked swiftly. + +Selingman's shoulders were hunched. + +"Who can tell? Who can tell the thoughts which his brain has conceived? +Maxendorf is a silent man. He is the first people's champion who has +ever held high office in his country. You see, he has the gifts which +no one can deny. He moves forward to whatever place he would occupy, +and he takes it. He is in politics as I in literature." + +The man's magnificent egotism passed unnoticed. Curiously enough, the +truth of it was so apparent that its expression seemed natural. + +"I must confess," Mr. Foley said quietly, "to you two alone, that I had +rather he had come at some other time. Selingman, you are indeed one of +the happiest of the earth. You have no responsibilities save the +responsibilities you owe to your genius. The only call to which you +need listen is the call to give to the world the thoughts and music +which beat in your brain. And with us, things are different. There is +the future of a country, the future of an Empire, always at stake, when +one sleeps and when one wakes." + +Selingman nodded his head vigorously. + +"Frankly," he admitted, "I sympathise with you. Responsibility I hate. +And yours, Mr. Foley," he added, "is a great one. I am a friend of +England. I am a friend of the England who should be. As your country +is to-day, I fear that she has very few friends indeed, apart from her +own shores. You may gain allies from reasons of policy, but you have +not the national gifts which win friendship." + +"How do you account for it?" Mr. Foley asked him. + +"Your Press, for one thing," Selingman replied; "your Press, written for +and inspired with the whole spirit of the bourgeoisie. You prate about +your Empire, but you've never learnt yet to think imperially. But +there, it is not for this I crossed the Channel. It is to be with +Maraton." + +"So long as you do not take him from me, I will not grudge you his +company," Mr. Foley remarked, rising. "On the other hand, I would very +much rather that you made your bow to my niece to-night than went to +Maxendorf." + +Maraton felt suddenly a twinge of something I which was almost +compunction. Mr. Foley's face was white and tired. He had the air of +a man oppressed with anxieties which he was doing his best to conceal. + +"If I can," he said, "I should like very much to see Lady Elisabeth. +Perhaps I shall be in time after our interview with Maxendorf, or +before. I will go home and change, on the chance." + +The Prime Minister nodded, but his slightly relaxed expression seemed to +show that he appreciated Maraton's intention. Selingman looked after +him gloomily as he left the room. + +"What devilish impulse," he muttered, "leads these men to pass into your +rotten English politics! It is like a poet trying to navigate a +dredger. Bah!" + +"Need you go into that gloomy chamber again, my friend?" + +Maraton shook his head. + +"I have finished," he declared. "There will be no division." + +"But do you never speak there?" + +"Up to now I have not uttered more than a dozen words or so," Maraton +replied. "You try it yourself--try speaking to a crowd of well-dressed, +well-fed, smug units of respectability, each with his mind full of his +own affairs or the affairs of his constituency. You try it. You +wouldn't find the words stream, I can tell you." + +Selingman grunted. + +"And now--what now?" + +"To my rooms--to my house," Maraton announced, "while I change." + +"It is good. I shall talk to your secretary. I shall talk to Miss +Julia while you disappear. Shall I rob you, my friend?" + +"You would rob me of a great deal if you took her away," Maraton +answered, "but--" + +Selingman interrupted him with a fiercely contemptuous exclamation. + +"You have it--the rotten, insular conceit of these Englishmen! You +think that she would not come? Do you think that if I were to say to +her,--'Come and listen while I make garlands of words, while I take you +through the golden doors!'--do you think that she would not put her hand +in mine? Fancy--to live in my fairy chamber, to listen while I give +shape and substance to all that I conceive--what woman would refuse!" + +Maraton laughed softly as they passed out into the Palace yard. + +"Try Julia," he suggested. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +Selingman had the air of one who has achieved a personal triumph as, +with his arm in Maraton's, he led him towards the man whom they had come +to visit. + +"Behold!" he exclaimed. "It is a triumph, this! It is a thing to be +remembered! I have brought you two together!" + +Maraton's first impressions of Maxendorf were curiously mixed. He saw +before him a tall, lanky figure of a man, dressed in sombre black, a man +of dark complexion, with beardless face and tanned skin plentifully +freckled. His hair and eyes were coal black. He held out his hand to +Maraton, but the smile with which he had welcomed Selingman had passed +from his lips. + +"You are not the Maraton I expected some day to meet," he said, a little +bluntly, "and yet I am glad to know you." + +Selingman shrugged his shoulders. + +"Max--my friend Max, do not be peevish," he begged. "I tell you that he +is the Maraton of whom we have spoken together. I have heard him. I +have been to Sheffield and listened. Don't be prejudiced, Max. Wait." + +Maxendorf motioned them to seats and stood with his finger upon the +bell. + +"Yes," Selingman assented, "we will drink with you. You breathe of the +Rhine, my friend. I see myself sitting with you in your terraced +garden, drinking Moselle wine out of cut glasses. So it shall be. We +will fall into the atmosphere. What a palace you live in, Max! Is it +because you are an ambassador that they must house you so splendidly?" + +Maxendorf glanced around him. He was in one of the best suites in the +hotel, but he had the air of one who was only then, for the first time, +made aware of the fact. + +"These things are done for me," he said carelessly. "It seems I have +come before I was expected. The Embassy is scarcely ready for +occupation." + +He ordered wine from the waiter and exchanged personal reminiscences +with Selingman until it was brought. Selingman grunted with +satisfaction. + +"Two bottles," he remarked. "Come, I like that. A less thoughtful man +would have ordered one first and the other afterwards. The period of +waiting for the second bottle would have destroyed the appetite. Quite +an artist, my friend Max. And the wine--well, we shall see." + +He raised the glass to his lips with the air of a connoisseur. + +"It will do," he decided, setting it down empty and lighting one of his +black cigars. "Now let us talk. Or shall I, for a change, be silent +and let you talk? To-day my tongue has been busy. Maraton is a silent +man, and he has a silent secretary with great eyes behind which lurk +fancies and dreams the poor little thing has never been encouraged to +speak of. A silent man--Maraton. Rather like you, Max. Which of you +will talk the more, I wonder? I shall be dumb." + +"It will be I who will talk," Maxendorf asserted. "I, because I have a +mission, things to explain to our friend here, if he will but listen." + +"Listen--of course he will listen!" Selingman interrupted. "You +two--what was it the _Oracle_ called you both--the world's deliverers. +Put your heads together and decide how you are going to do it. The +people over here, Max, are rotting in their kennels. Sink-holes they +live in. Live! What a word!" + +"If you indeed have something to say to me," Maraton proposed, "let us +each remember who we are. There is no need for preambles. I know you +to be a people's man. We have all watched your rise. We have all +marvelled at it." + +"A Socialist statesman in the stiffest-necked country of Europe," +Selingman muttered. "Marvelled at it, indeed!" + +"I am where I am," Maxendorf declared, "because the world is governed by +laws, and in the main they are laws of justice and right. The people of +my country fifty years ago were as deep in the mire as the people of +your country to-day. Their liberation has already dawned. That is why +I stand where I do. Your people, alas! are still dwellers in the +caves. The moment for you has not yet arrived. When I heard that +Maraton had come to England, I changed all my plans. I said to +myself--' I will go to Maraton and I will show him how he may lead his +people to the light.' And then I heard other things." + +"Continue," Maraton said simply. + +Maxendorf rose to his feet. He came a little nearer to Maraton. He +stood looking down at him with folded arms--a lank, gaunt figure, the +angular lines of his body and limbs accentuated by his black clothes and +black tie. + +"It came upon me like a thunderbolt," Maxendorf proceeded. "I heard +unexpectedly that Maraton had entered Parliament, had placed his hand in +the hand of a Minister--not even the leader of the people's Party. You +do not read the Press of my country, perhaps. You did not hear across +the seas the groan which came from the hearts of my children. I said to +myself--'The Maraton whom we knew of exists no longer, yet I will go +and see.'" + +Maraton moved in his chair a little uneasily. He felt suddenly as +though he were a prisoner at the bar, and this man his judge. + +"You do not understand the circumstances which I found existing on my +arrival here," Maraton explained. "You do not understand the promises +which I have received from Mr. Foley, and which he is already carrying +into effect. You read of the Lancashire strike?" + +Maxendorf nodded his long head slowly but said nothing. + +"The settlement of that," Maraton continued, "was arranged before I +spoke to the people. It is the same with Sheffield. For the first +time, the Parliament of this country has passed a measure compelling the +manufacturers to recognise and treat with the demands of the people. +Trade Unionism has been lifted to an entirely different level. There +are three Bills now being drafted--people's Bills. Revolutionary +measures they would have been called, a thousand years ago. Every +industry in the country will have its day. In the next ten years +Capital will have earned many millions less, and those many millions +will have gone to the labouring classes." + +"Is it you who speak," Maxendorf asked grimly, "or is this another +man--a sophist living in the shadow of Maraton's fame? Is there +anything of the truth, anything of the great compelling truth in this +piecemeal legislation? Is it in this way that the freedom of a country +can be gained? One gathered that the Maraton who sent his message +across the seas had different plans." + +"I had," Maraton admitted, "but the time came when I was forced to ask +myself whether they were not rather the plans of the dreamer and the +theorist, when I was forced to ask myself whether I was justified in +destroying this generation for the sake of those to come. Life, after +all, is a marvellous gift. You and I may believe in immortality, but +who can be sure? It is easy enough to play chess, but when the pawns +are human lives, who would not hesitate?" + +Maxendorf sighed. + +"I cannot talk with you, Maraton," he said. "You will not speak with me +honestly. You came, you landed on these shores with an inspired +idea--something magnificent, something worthy. You have substituted for +it the time-worn methods of all the reformers since the days of Adam, +who have parted with their principles and dabbled in sentimental +altruism. Piecemeal legislation--what can it do?" + +"It can build," Maraton declared. "It can build, generation by +generation. It can produce a saner race, and as the light comes, so the +truth will flow in upon the minds of all." + +"An illusion!" Selingman interrupted, with a sudden fierceness in his +tone. "Once, Maraton, you looked at life sanely enough. Are you sure +that to-day you have not put on the poisoned spectacles? Don't you know +the end of these spasmodic reforms? You pass, your influence passes, +your mantle is buried in your grave, and the country slips back, and the +people suffer, and the great wheel grinds them into bone and powder just +as surely a century hence as a century ago. Man, you don't start right. +If you would restore a ruined and neglected garden, you must first +destroy, make a bonfire of the weeds prepare your soil. Then, in the +springtime, fresh flowers will blossom, the trees will give leaf, the +birds who have deserted a ruined and fruitless waste will return and +sing once more the song of life. But there must be destruction, +Maraton. You yourself preached it once, preached fire and the sword. +Something has gone from you since those days. Compromise--the spirit of +compromise you call it. How one hates the sound of it! Bah! Man, you +are on a lower level, when you talk the smug talk of to-day. I am +disappointed in you. Maxendorf is disappointed in you. You are riding +down the easy way on to the sandbanks of failure." + +"Your garden," Maraton rejoined, with an answering note of passion in +his tone, "would never have blossomed again if you had driven the plough +across it, ripped up its fruit trees, torn up its neglected plants by +ruthless force. You must plant fresh seed and grow new trees. Then +there's another nation, another world. What about your responsibilities +to the present one? Isn't it great to save what is, rather than to +destroy for the sake of those who have neither toiled nor suffered? I +thought as you once. The philosopher thinks like that in his study. +Stand before those people, look into their white, labour-worn faces, +feel with them, sorrow with them for a little time, and I tell you that +your hand will falter before it drives the plough. You will raise your +eyes to heaven and pray that you may see some way of bringing help to +them--to them who live--the help for which they crave. Haven't they a +right to their lives? Who gives us a mandate to sweep them away for the +sake of the unborn?" + +"You have become a sentimentalist, Maraton," Maxendorf declared grimly. +"The soft places in your heart have led you to forget for a moment the +inexorable laws. Let us pass from these generalities. Let us speak of +things such as you had at first intended. I know what was in your +heart. You meant to pass from Birmingham to Glasgow, to preach the holy +war of Labour, a giant crusade. You meant to close the mills, to stop +the wheels, to blank the forges and rake out the furnaces of the +country. You meant to place your finger upon its arteries and stop +their beating. You meant to turn the people loose upon their +oppressors. Though they must perish in their thousands, yet you meant +to show them the naked truth, to show them of what they are being +deprived, to show them the irresistible laws of justice, so that for +very shame they must drop their tools and stand for their rights. Why +didn't you do it?" + +"I have told you," Maraton answered. + +"Yes, you have told us," Maxendorf continued. "Supposing there were +still a way by which even this present generation could reap the +benefit? Are you great enough, Maraton, to listen to me, I wonder? +That is what I ask myself since you have become a Party politician, a +friend of Ministers, since you have joined in the puppet dance of the +world. See to what I have brought my people. In ten years' time I tell +you that nearly every industry in my country will be conducted upon a +profit-sharing basis." + +"You have brought them to this," Maraton reminded him swiftly, "by +peaceful methods." + +"For me there were no other needed," Maxendorf urged. "For you the case +is different. If you are one of those who love to strut about and boast +of your nationality, if you are one of those in whom lingers the +smallest particle of the falsest sentiment which the age of romance has +ever handed down to us--what they call patriotism--then my words will be +wasted. But here is the message which I have brought to you and to your +people. This is the dream of my life which he, Selingman, alone has +known of--the fusion of our races." + +"Magnificent!" Selingman cried, springing to his feet. "The dream of a +god! Listen to it, Maraton. My brain has realised it. I, too, have +seen it. Your country is bound in the everlasting shackles. +Generations must pass before you can even weaken the hold of your +bourgeoisie upon the soul and spirit of your land. You are tied hard +and fast, and withal you are on the downward grade. The work which you +do to-day, the next generation will undo. Give up this foolish +legislation. Listen to Maxendorf. He will show you the way." + +"When you speak of fusion," Maraton asked, "you mean conquest?" + +"There is no such word," Maxendorf insisted. "The hearts of our people +are close together. Put aside all these artificial ententes and +alliances. There are no two people whose ideals and whose aims and +whose destiny are so close together as your country's and mine. It is +for that very reason that these periods of distrust and suspicion +continually occur, suspicions which impoverish two countries with the +millions we spend on senseless schemes of defence. Away with them all. +Stop the pendulum of your country. Declare your coal strike, your +railway strike, your ironfounders' strike. Let the revolution come. I +tell you then that we shall appear not as invaders, but as friends and +liberators. Your industries shall start again on a new basis, the basis +which you and I know of, the basis which gives to the toilers their just +and legitimate share of what they produce. Your trade shall flourish +just as it flourished before, but away to dust and powder with your +streets of pig-sties, the rat-holes into which your weary labourers +creep after their hours of senseless slavery. You and I, Maraton, know +how industries should be conducted. You and I know the just share which +Capital should claim. You and I together will make the laws. Oh, what +does it matter whether you are English or Icelanders, Fins or Turks! +Humanity is so much greater than nationality. Your men shall work side +by side with mine, and what each produces, each shall have. What is +being done for my country shall surely be done for yours. Can't you +see, Maraton--can't you see, my prophet who gropes in the darkness, that +I am showing you the only way?" + +Maraton rose to his feet. He came and stood by Maxendorf's side. + +"Maxendorf," he said, "you may be speaking to me from your heart. Yes, +I will admit that you are speaking to me from your heart. But you ask +me to take an awful risk. You stand first in your country to-day, but +in your country there are other powerful influences at work. So much of +what you say is true. If I believed, Maxendorf--if I believed that this +fusion, as you call it, of our people could come about in the way you +suggest, if I believed that the building up of our prosperity could +start again on the real and rational basis of many of your institutions, +if I believed this, Maxendorf, no false sentiment would stand in my way. +I would risk the eternal shame of the historians. So far as I could do +it, I would give you this country. But there is always the doubt, the +awful doubt. You have a ruler whose ideas are not your ideas. You have +a people behind you who are strange to me. I have not travelled in your +country, I know little of it. What if your people should assume the +guise of conquerors, should garrison our towns with foreign soldiers, +demand a huge indemnity, and then, withdrawing, leave us to our fate? +You have no guarantees to offer me, Maxendorf." + +"None but my word," Maxendorf confessed quietly. + +"You bargain like a politician!" Selingman cried. "Man, can't you see +the glory of it?" + +"I can see the glory," Maraton answered, turning around, "but I can see +also the ineffaceable ignominy of it. Is your country great enough, +Maxendorf, to follow where your finger points? I do not know." + +"Yet you, too," Maxendorf persisted, "must sometimes have looked into +futurity. You must have seen the slow decay of national pride, the +nations of the world growing closer and closer together. Can't you bear +to strike a blow for the great things? You and I see so well the utter +barbarism of warfare, the hideous waste of our mighty armaments, +draining the money like blood from our countries, and all for +senselessness, all just to keep alive that strange spirit which belongs +to the days of romance, and the days of romance only. It's a workaday +world now, Maraton. We draw nearer to the last bend in the world's +history. Oh, this is the truth! I have seen it for so long. It's my +religion, Maraton. The time may not have come to preach it broadcast, +but it's there in my heart." + +Selingman struck the table with the palm of his hand. + +"Enough!" he said. "The words have been spoken. To-morrow or the next +day we meet again. Go to your study, Maraton, and think. Lock the +door. Turn out the Julia I shall some day rob you of. Hold your head, +look into the future. Think! Think! No more words now. They do no +good. Come. I stay with Maxendorf. I go with you to the lift." + +Maxendorf held out his hand. + +"Selingman is, as usual, right," he confessed. "We are speaking in a +great language, Maraton. It is enough for to-night, perhaps. Come back +to me when you will within the next forty-eight hours." + +They left him there, a curious figure, straight and motionless, standing +upon the threshold of his room. Selingman gripped Maraton by the arm as +he hurried him along the corridor. + +"You've doubts, Maraton," he muttered. "Doubts! Curse them! They are +not worthy. You should see the truth. You're big enough. You will see +it to-morrow. Get out of the fog. Maxendorf is the most profound +thinker of these days. He is over here with that scheme of his deep in +his heart. It's become a passion with him. We have talked of it by the +hour, spoken of you, prayed for some prophet on your side with eyes to +see the truth. Into the lift with you, man. Look for me to-morrow. +Farewell!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Maraton was more than ever conscious, as he climbed the stairs of the +house in Downing Street an hour or so later, of a certain fragility of +appearance in Mr. Foley, markedly apparent during these last few weeks. +He was standing talking to Lord Armley, who was one of the late +arrivals, as Maraton entered, talking in a low tone and with an +obviously serious manner. At the sound of Maraton's name, however, he +turned swiftly around. His face seemed to lighten. He held out his +hand with an air almost of relief. + +"So you have come!" he exclaimed. "I am glad." + +Maraton shook hands and would have passed on, but Mr. Foley detained +him. + +"Armley and I were talking about this after noon's decision," he +continued. "There will be no secret about it to-morrow. It has been +decided to carry out our autumn manoeuvred as usual in South em waters." + +Maraton nodded. + +"I am afraid that is one of the things the significance of which fails +to reach me," he remarked. "You were against it, were you not?" + +Mr. Foley groaned softly. + +"My friend," he said, "there is only one fault with the Members of my +Government, only one fault with this country. We are all foolishly and +blindly sanguine. We are optimistic by persuasion and self-persuasion. +We like the comfortable creed. I suppose that the bogey of war has +strutted with us for so long that we have grown used to it." + +Maraton looked at his companion thoughtfully. + +"Do you seriously believe, Mr. Foley," he asked in an undertone, "in +the possibility, in the imminent possibility of war?" + +Mr. Foley half-closed his eyes and sighed. + +"Oh, my dear Maraton," he murmured, "it isn't a question of belief! +It's like asking me whether I believe I can see from here into my own +drawing-room. The figures in there are real enough, aren't they? So is +the cloud I can see gathering all the time over our heads. It is a +question only of the propitious moment--of that there is no manner of +doubt." + +"You speak of affairs," Maraton admitted, "of which I know nothing. I +do not even understand the balance of power. I always thought, though, +that every great nation, our own included, paid a certain amount of +insurance in the shape of huge contributions towards a navy and army; +that we paid such insurance as was necessary and were rewarded with +adequate results." + +Mr. Foley forgot his depression for an instant, and smiled. + +"What a theorist you are! It all depends upon the amount of insurance +you take up, whether the risk is covered. We've under-insured for many +years, thanks to that little kink in our disposition. We got a nasty +knock in South Africa and we had to pay our own loss. It did us good +for a year or two. Now the pendulum has just reached the other extreme. +We've swung back once more into our silly dream. Oh, Maraton, it's true +enough that we have great problems to face sociologically! Don't think +that I underrate them. You know I don't. But every time I sit and talk +to you, I have always at the back of my mind that other fear. . . . +Have you seen Maxendorf to-night?" + +"I have just left him," Maraton replied. + +"An interesting interview?" + +"Very!" + +Mr. Foley gripped his arm. + +"My friend," he said,--"you see, I am beginning to call you that--you +have talked to-night with one of the most wonderful and the most +dangerous enemies of our country. You won't think me drivelling, will +you, or presuming, if I beg you to remember that fact, and that you are, +notwithstanding your foreign birth, one of us? You are an Englishman, a +member of the English House of Parliament." + +"I do not forget that," Maraton declared gravely. + +"Go and find Lady Elisabeth," Mr. Foley directed. "She was a little +hurt at the idea that you were not coming. I have a few more words to +say to Armley." + +Maraton passed on into the rooms, which were only half filled. Some +fancy possessed him to pause for a moment in the spot where he had stood +alone for some time on his first visit to this house, and as he lingered +there, Lady Elisabeth came into the room, leaning on the arm of a great +lawyer. She saw him almost at once--her eyes, indeed, seemed to glance +instinctively towards the spot where he was standing. Maraton felt the +change in her expression. With a whisper she left her escort and came +immediately in his direction. He watched her, step by step. Was it his +fancy or had she lost some of the haughtiness of carriage which he had +noticed that night not many months ago; the slight coldness which in +those first moments had half attracted and half repelled him? Perhaps +it was because he was now admitted within the circle of her friends. +She came to him, at any rate, quickly, almost eagerly, and the smile +about her lips as she took his hand was one of real and natural +pleasure. + +"How good of you!" she murmured. "I scarcely hoped that you would come. +You have been with Maxendorf?" + +He nodded. + +"Is it a confession?" he asked. "It was Mr. Foley's first question to +me." + +"It is because we hate and distrust the man," she replied. "You aren't +a politician, you see, Mr. Maraton. You don't quite appreciate some of +the forces which are making an old man of my uncle to-day, which make +life almost intolerable for many of us when we think seriously," she +went on simply. + +"Aren't you exaggerating that sentiment just a little?" he suggested. + +"Not a particle," she assured him. "However, you came here to be +entertained, didn't you? I won't croak to you any more. I think I have +done my duty for this evening. Let us find a corner and talk like +ordinary human beings. Are you going in to supper?" + +"I hadn't thought of it," he admitted. + +"I dined at seven o'clock," she told him. "We seem to have provided +supper for hundreds of people, and I am sure not half of them are +coming." + +They passed through two of the rooms into a long, low apartment which +led into the winter gardens. At one end refreshments were being served, +and the rest of the space was taken up with little tables. Elisabeth +led him to one placed just inside the winter garden. A footman filled +their glasses with champagne. + +"Now we are going to be normal human beings," she declared. "How much I +wish that you really were a normal human being!" + +"In what respect am I different?" + +"You know quite well," she answered. "I should like you to be what you +seem to be--just a capable, clever, rising politician, with a place in +the Cabinet before you, working for your country, sincere, free from all +these strange notions." + +"Working for my country," he repeated. "That is just the difficult part +of the whole situation, nowadays. I know that I am rather a trouble to +your uncle. Sometimes I fear that I may become even a greater trouble. +It is so hard to adopt the attitude which you suggest when one feels the +intolerable situation which exists in that country." + +"But we are on the highroad now to great reforms," she reminded him. +"Another decade of years, and the people whom you worship will surely be +lifting their heads." + +He smiled as she looked across at him with a puzzled air. + +"It is strange," she remarked, "that you, too, have the appearance of a +man dissatisfied with himself. I wonder why? Surely you must feel that +everything has gone your way since you came to England?" + +"I am not sure how I feel about it," he replied. "Think! I came with +different ideas. I came with a religion which admitted no compromises, +and I have accepted a compromise." + +"A wise and a sane one," she declared, almost passionately. "And +to-night--tell me, am I not right?--to-night there have been those who +have sought to upset it in your mind." + +"You are clairvoyant." + +"Not I, but it is so easy to see! It is the dream of Maxendorf's life +to bring England to the verge of a revolution by paralysing her +industries. Better for him, that, than any violent scheme of conquest. +If he can stop the engine that drives the wheels of the country, they +can come over in tourist steamers and tell us how to govern it better." + +"And if they did," he asked quickly, "isn't it possible that their rule +over the people might be better than the rule of this stubborn +generation?" + +She drew herself up. Her eyes flashed with anger. + +"Haven't you a single gleam of patriotism?" she demanded. + +He sighed. + +"I think that I have," he replied, "and yet, it lies at the back of my +thoughts, at the back of my heart. It is more like an artistic +inspiration, one of those things that lie among the pleasant impulses of +life. Right in the foreground I see the great groaning cycle of +humanity being flung from the everlasting wheels into the bottomless +abyss. I cannot take my eyes from the people, you see." + +She sat almost rigid for some brief space of time. A servant was +arranging plates in front of them, their glasses were refilled, the +music of a waltz stole in through the open door. Around them many other +people were sitting. An atmosphere of gaiety began gradually to +develop. Maraton watched his companion closely. Her eyes were full of +trouble, her sensitive mouth quivering a little. There was a straight +line across her forehead. Her fair hair was arranged in great coils, +without a single ornament. She wore no jewels at all save a single +string of pearls around her slim white neck. Maraton, as the moments +passed, was conscious of a curious weakening, a return of that same +thrill which the sound of her voice that first day--half imperious, half +gracious--had incited in him. He waved his hand towards the crowd of +those who supped around them. + +"Let us forget," he begged. "I, too, feel that I have more in my mind +to-night than my brain can cope with. Let us rest for a little time." + +Her face lightened. + +"We will," she assented gladly. "Only, do remember what my constant +prayer about you is. Things, you know, in some respects must go on as +they are, and the country needs its strongest sons. Mr. Foley would +like to bring you even closer to him. I know he is simply aching with +impatience to have you in the Cabinet. Don't do anything rash, Mr. +Maraton. Don't do anything which would make it impossible. There are +many beautiful theories in life which would be simply hateful failures +if one tried to bring them into practice. Try to remember that +experience goes for something. And now--finished! Tell me about +Sheffield? I read Selingman's marvellous article. One could almost see +the whole scene there. How I should love to hear you speak! Not in +Parliament--I don't mean that. I almost realise how impossible you find +that." + +"It is only a matter of earnestness," he replied, "and a certain +aptitude for forming phrases quickly. No one can feel deeply about +anything and not find themselves more or less eloquent when they come to +talk about it. By the bye, have you ever met Selingman?" + +She shook her head. + +"My uncle knew him. He tells me that he asked him here to-night. I +wish that he had come. And yet, I am not sure. Some of his writings I +have hated. He, too, is a theorist, isn't he? I wonder--" + +She paused, and looked expectant. + +"I often wonder," she went on, "is there nothing else in your life at +all except this passionate altruism? In your younger life, for +instance, weren't there ever any sports or occupations that you cared +for?" + +"Yes," he admitted slowly, "for some years I did a good many of the +usual things." + +"And now the desire for them has all gone," she asked, "haven't you any +personal hopes or dreams in connection with life? Isn't there anything +you look forward to or desire for yourself?" + +"I seem to have so little time. And yet, one has dreams--one always +must have dreams, you know." + +"Tell me about yours?" she insisted. + +He sat up abruptly. Her fingers fell upon his arm. + +"We will go and sit under my rose tree," she suggested. + +They moved back into the winter garden until they came to a seat at its +furthest extremity. A fountain was playing a few yards away, and +clusters of great pink roses were drooping down from some trellis-work +before them. + +"Here, at least," she continued, as she leaned back, "we will not be +tempted to talk seriously. Tell me about yourself? Do you never look +forward into the future? Have you no personal ambitions or hopes?" + +He looked steadily ahead of him. + +"I am only a very ordinary man," he replied. "Like every one else, +sometimes I look up to the clouds." + +"Tell me what you see there?" she begged. + +He was silent. The sound of voices now came to them like a distant +murmur, a background to the slow falling of the water into the fountain +basin. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he said, "it is not always possible to tell even one's +own self what the thoughts mean which come into one's brain." + +"You will not even try to tell me, then?" + +"I must not," he answered. + +She sat with her hands folded in front of her, her head drooped a +little. Maraton felt himself suddenly at war with a whole multitude of +emotions. Was it possible that this thing had come to him, that a woman +could take the great place in his life, a woman not of his kind, one who +could not even share the passion which was to have absorbed every +impulse of his existence to the end? She was of a different world. +Perhaps it had all been a mistake. Perhaps it would have been better +for him to have stayed outside, to have never crossed the little +borderland which led into the land of compromises. And all the time, +while his brain was at work, something stronger, more wonderful, was +throbbing in his heart. He moved restlessly in his place. Her ungloved +hand lay within a few inches of him. He suddenly caught it. + +"Lady Elisabeth," he whispered, "I feel like a traitor. I feel myself +moved to say things to you under false pretences. I ought not to have +come here." + +"What do you mean?" she demanded. "You can't mean--" + +Their eyes met. He read the truth unerringly. "No, not that," he +answered. "There is no one. What I feel is, at any rate, consecrate. +But I have no right. I am not sure, even at this moment, whether it is +not in my heart to take a step which you would look upon as the blackest +ingratitude. My life, Lady Elisabeth, holds issues in it far apart, and +it is vowed, dedicate." + +"You are going to break away?" she asked quietly. + +"I may," he admitted. "That is the truth. That is why I hesitated +about coming here to-night. And yet, I wanted to come. I wasn't sure +why. I know now--it was to see you." + +"Oh, don't be rash!" she begged. "Don't! I may talk to you now really +from my heart, mayn't I?" she went on, looking steadfastly into his +face. "Don't imagine that that great gulf exists. It doesn't. If you +break away, it will be a mistake. You want to feel your feet upon the +clouds. You don't know how much safer you will be if you keep them upon +the earth. You may bring incalculable suffering and misery upon the +very people whom you wish to benefit. You think that I am a woman, +perhaps, and I know little. Yes, but sometimes we who are outside see +much, and it is dangerous, you know, to act upon theories. I haven't +spoken a single selfish word, have I? I haven't tried to tell you how +much I should hate to lose you." + +He rose to his feet. + +"I am going away," he said hoarsely. "I must fight this thing out +alone. But--" + +He looked around. The words seemed to fail him. Their little corner of +the winter garden was still uninvaded. + +"But, Lady Elisabeth," he continued, "you know the thing which makes it +harder for me than ever. You know very well that if I decide to do what +must make me a stranger in this household, I shall do it at a personal +sacrifice which I never dreamed could exist." + +She swayed a little towards him. Her face was suddenly changed, +alluring; her eyes pleaded with him. + +"You mustn't go away," she whispered. "If you go now, you must come +back--do you bear?--you must come back!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +It was the eve of the reopening of Parliament. Maraton, who had been +absent from London--no one knew where--during the last six weeks, had +suddenly reappeared. Once more he had invited the committee of the +Labour Party to meet at his house. His invitation was accepted, but it +was obvious that this time their attitude towards the man who welcomed +them was one of declared and pronounced hostility. Graveling was there, +with sullen, evil face. He made no attempt to shake hands with Maraton, +and he sat at the table provided for them with folded arms and dour, +uncompromising aspect. Dale came late and he, too, greeted Maraton with +bluff unfriendliness. Borden's attitude was non-committal. Weavel +shook hands, but his frown and manner were portentous. Culvain, the +diplomat of the party, was quiet and reserved. David Ross alone had +never lost his attitude of unwavering fidelity. He sat at Maraton's +left hand, his head a little drooped, his eyes almost hidden beneath his +shaggy grey eyebrows, his lower lip protuberant. He had, somehow, the +air of a guarding dog, ready to spring into bitter words if his master +were touched. + +"Gentlemen," Maraton began, when at last they were all assembled, "I +have asked you, the committee who were appointed to meet me on my +arrival England, to meet me once more here on the eve of the reopening +of Parliament." + +There was a grim silence. No one spoke. Their general attitude was one +of suspicious waiting. + +"You all know," Maraton went on, "with what ideas I first came to +England. I found, however, that circumstances here were in many +respects different from anything I had imagined. You all know that I +modified my plans. I decided to adopt a middle course." + +"A seat in Parliament," Graveling muttered, "and a place at the Prime +Minister's dinner table." + +"For some reason or other," Maraton continued, unruffled, "my coming +into Parliament seemed obnoxious to Mr. Dale and most of you. I +decided in favour of that course, however, because the offer made me by +Mr. Foley was one which, in the interests of the people, I could not +refuse. Mr. Foley has done his best to keep to the terms of his +compact with me. Perhaps I ought to say that he has kept to it. The +successful termination of the Lancashire strike is due entirely to his +efforts. The prolongation of the Sheffield strike is in no way his +fault. The blind stupidity of the masters was too much even for him. +The position has developed very much as I feared it might. You cannot +make employers see reason by Act of Parliament. Mr. Foley kept his +word. He has been on the side of the men throughout this struggle. He +has used every atom of influence he possesses to compel the employers to +give in. Temporarily he has failed--only temporarily, mind, for a Bill +will be introduced into Parliament during this session which will very +much alter the position of the employers. But this partial failure has +convinced me of one thing. This is too law-abiding a country for +compromises. For the last six weeks I have been travelling on the +Continent. I have realised how splendidly Labour has emancipated itself +there compared to its slow progress in this country. From town to town +in northern Europe I passed, and found the great industries of the +various districts in the hands of a composite body of men, embracing the +boy learning the simplest machine and the financier in the office, every +man there working like a single part of one huge machine, each for the +profit of the whole. A genuine scheme of profit-sharing is there being +successfully carried out. It is owing to this visit, and the +convictions which have come to me from the same, that I have called you +together to-day." + +"You invited us," Peter Dale remarked deliberately, "and here we are. +As to what good's likely to come of our meeting, that's another matter. +There's no denying the fact that we've not been able to work together up +till now, and whether we shall in the future is by no means clear." + +"I am sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Dale," Maraton declared. "I only +hope that before you go you will have changed your mind." + +"Not in the least likely, that I can see," Peter Dale retorted. "For my +part, I can't reckon up what you want with us. You've gone into the +House on your own and you've chosen to sit in a place by yourself. +You've tried your best to manage things according to your own way of +thinking, without us. Now, all of a sudden, you invite us here. I +wonder whether this has anything to do with it." + +With some deliberation, Peter Dale produced from his pocket a letter, +which he smoothed out upon the table before him. He had the air of a +man who prepares a bombshell. Maraton stretched out his hand toward it. + +"Is that for me?" he asked. + +Peter Dale kept his fingers upon it. + +"Its contents concern you," he announced. "I'll read it, if you'll be +so good as to listen. Came as a bit of a shock to us, I must confess." + +"Anonymous?" Maraton murmured. + +"If its contents are untrue," Peter Dale said, "you will be able to +contradict them. With your kind permission, then. Listen, everybody: + +"'Dear Sir: + +"'The following facts concerning a recent addition to the ranks of your +Party should, I think, be of some interest to you. + +"'The proper name of Mr. Maraton is Mr. Maraton Lawes. + +"'Mr. Maraton Lawes and a younger brother were once the possessors of +the world-famous Lawes Oil Springs, and are now the principal +shareholders in the Lawes Oil Company. + +"'The person in question is a millionaire. + +"'A Socialist millionaire who conceals the fact of his wealth and keeps +his purse closed, is a person, I think, open to criticism. + +"'A sketch of Mr. Maraton Lawes' career will shortly appear in an +evening paper.'" + + +Maraton listened without change of countenance. All eyes were turned +upon him. + +"Well?" he enquired nonchalantly. + +"Is this true?" Peter Dale demanded. + +Maraton inclined his head. + +"The writer," he said, "a man named Beldeman, I am sure has been +singularly moderate in his statements. I have been expecting the +article to appear for some time." + +They were all of them apparently afflicted with a curious combination of +emotions. They were angry, and yet--with the exception of +Graveling--there was beneath their anger some evidence of that curious +respect for wealth prevalent amongst their order. They looked at +Maraton with a new interest. + +"A millionaire!" Peter Dale exclaimed impressively. "You admit it! +You--a Socialist--a people's man, as you've called yourself! And never +a word to one of us! Never a copper of your money to the Party! I +repeat it--not one copper have we seen!" + +The man's cheeks were flushed with anger, his brows lowered. Something +of his indignation was reflected in the faces of all of +them--momentarily a queer sort of cupidity seemed to have stolen into +their expressions. Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"Why should I subscribe to your Party funds?" he asked calmly. "Some of +you do good work, no doubt, and yet there is no such destroyer of good +work as money. Work, individual effort, unselfish enthusiasm, are the +torches which should light on your cause. Money would only serve the +purpose of a slow poison amongst you." + +"Prattle!" Abraham Weavel muttered. + +"Rot!" Peter Dale agreed. "Just another question, Mr. Maraton: Why +have you kept this secret from us?" + +"I will make a statement," Maraton replied coolly. "Perhaps it will save +needless questions. My money is derived from oil springs. I prospected +for them myself, and I have had to fight for them. It was in wilder +days than you know of here. I have a younger brother, or rather a +half-brother, whom I was sorry to see over here the other day, who is my +partner. My average profits are twenty-eight thousand pounds a year. +Ten thousand pounds goes to the support of a children's home in New +York; the remainder is distributed in other directions amongst +institutions for the rescue of children. Five thousand a year I keep +for myself." + +"Five thousand a year!" Peter Dale gasped indignantly. "Did you hear +that?" he added, turning to the others. + +"Four hundred a year and a hundred and fifty from subscriptions, and +that's every penny I have to bring up seven children upon," Weavel +declared with disgust. + +"And mine's less than that, and the subscriptions falling off," Borden +grunted. + +"What sort of a Socialist is a man with five thousand a year who keeps +his pockets tightly buttoned up, I should like to know?" Graveling +exclaimed angrily. + +Maraton smiled. + +"You have common sense, I am sure, all of you," he said. "In fact, no +one could possibly accuse you of being dreamers. Every effort of my +life will be devoted towards the promulgation of my beliefs, absolutely +without regard to my pecuniary position. I admit that the possession of +wealth is contrary to the principles of life which I should like to see +established. Still, until conditions alter, it would be even more +contrary to my principles to distribute my money in charity which I +abominate, or to weaken good causes by unwholesome and unearned +contributions to them. Shall we now proceed to the subject of our +discussion?" + +"What is it, anyway?" Peter Dale demanded gruffly. "Do you find that +after being so plaguey independent you need our help after all? Is that +what it is?" + +"I want no one's help," Maraton replied quietly. "I only want to give +you this earliest notice because, in your way, you do represent the +people--that it is my intention to revert to my first ideas. I have +arranged a tour in the potteries next week. I go straight on to +Newcastle, and from there to Glasgow. I intend to preach a universal +strike. I intend, if I can, to bring the shipbuilders, the coalminers, +the dockers, the railroad men, out on strike, while the Sheffield +trouble is as yet unsolved. Whatever may come of it, I intend that the +Government of this country shall realise how much their prosperity is +dependent upon the people's will." + +There was a little murmur. Peter Dale, who had filled his pipe, was +puffing away steadily. + +"Look here," he said slowly, "Newcastle's my job." + +"Is it?" Maraton replied. "There are a million and a quarter of miners +to be considered. You may be the representative of a few of them. I am +not sure that in this matter you represent their wishes, if you are for +peace. I am going to see." + +"As for the potteries," Mr. Borden declared, "a strike there's overdue, +and that's certain, but if all the others are going to strike at the +same time, why, what's the good of it? The Unions can't stand it." + +"We have tried striking piecemeal," Maraton pointed out. "It doesn't +seem to me that it's a success. What is called the Government here can +deal with one strike at a time. They've soldiers enough, and law +enough, for that. They haven't for a universal strike." + +Peter Dale struck the table with his clenched fist. His expression was +grim and his tone truculent. + +"What I say is this," he pronounced. "I'm dead against any interference +from outsiders. If I think a strike's good for my people, well, I'll +blow the whistle. If you're for Newcastle next week, Mr. Maraton, so +am I. If you're for preaching a strike, well, I'm for preaching against +it." + +"Hear, hear!" Graveling exclaimed. "I'm with you." + +Maraton smiled a little bitterly. + +"As you will, Mr. Dale," he replied. "But remember, you'll have to seek +another constituency next time you want to come into Parliament. Do be +reasonable," he went on. "Do you suppose the people will listen to you +preaching peace and contentment? They'll whip you out of the town." + +"It's the carpet-bagger that will have to go first!" Dale declared +vigorously. "There's no two ways about that." + +Maraton sighed. + +"Sometimes," he said, looking around at them, "I feel that it must be my +fault that there has never been any sympathy between us. Sometimes I am +sure that it is yours. Don't you ever look a little way beyond the +actual wants of your own constituents? Don't you ever peer over the +edge and realise that the real cause of the people is no local matter? +It is a great blow for their freedom, this which I mean to strike. I'd +like to have had you all with me. It's a huge responsibility for one." + +"It's revolution," Culvain muttered. "You may call that a +responsibility, indeed. Who's going to feed the people? Who's going to +keep them from pillaging and rioting?" + +"No one," Maraton replied quietly. "A revolution is inevitable. +Perhaps after that we may have to face the coming of a foreign enemy. +And yet, even with this contingency in view, I want you to ask +yourselves: What have the people to lose? Those who will suffer by +anything that could possibly happen, will be the wealthy. From those +who have not, nothing can be taken. What I prophesy is that in the next +phase of our history, a new era will dawn. Our industries will be +re-established upon different lines. The loss entailed by the +revolution, by the dislocating of all our industries, will fall upon the +people who are able and who deserve to pay for it." + +There was a moment's grim silence. Then David Ross suddenly lifted his +head. + +"It's a great blow!" he cried. "It's the hand of the Lord falling upon +the land, long overdue--too long overdue. The man's right! This people +have had a century to set their house in order. The warning has been in +their ears long enough. The thunder has muttered so long, it's time the +storm should break. Let ruin come, I say!" + +"You can talk any silly nonsense you like, David Ross," Dale declared +angrily, "but what I say is that we are listening to the most dangerous +stuff any man ever spouted. What's to become of us, I'd like to know, +with a revolution in the country?" + +"You would probably lose your jobs," Maraton answered calmly. "What +does it matter? There are others to follow you. The first whom the +people will turn upon will be those who have pulled down the pillars. +Our names will be hated by every one of them. What does it matter? It +is for their good." + +Peter Dale doubled up his fist and once more he smote the table before +him. + +"I am dead against you, Maraton," he announced. "Put that in your pipe +and smoke it. If you go to Newcastle, I go there to fight you. If you +go to any of the places in this country represented by us, our Member +will be there to fight. We are in Parliament to do our best for the +people we represent, bit by bit as we can. We are not there to plunge +the country into a revolution and run the risk of a foreign invasion. +There isn't one of us Englishmen here who'll agree with you or side with +you for one moment." + +"Hear, hear!" they all echoed. + +"Not one," Graveling interposed, "and for my part, I go further. I say +that the man who stands there and talks about the risk of a foreign +invasion like that, is no Englishman. I call him a traitor, and if the +thing comes he speaks of, may he be hung from the nearest lamp-post! +That's all I've got to say." + +Maraton opened his lips and closed them again. He looked slowly down +that wall of blank, unsympathetic faces and he merely shrugged his +shoulders. Words were wasted upon them. + +"Very well, gentlemen," he said, "let it be war. Perhaps we'd better +let this be the end of our deliberations." + +Graveling rose slowly to his feet. His face was filled with evil +things. He pointed to Maraton. + +"There's a word more to be spoken!" he exclaimed. "There's more behind +this scheme of Maraton's than he's willing to have us understand! It +looks to me and it sounds to me like a piece of dirty, underhand +business. I'll ask you a question, Maraton. Were you at the Ritz Hotel +one night about two months ago, with the ambassador of a foreign a +country?" + +"I was," Maraton admitted coolly. + +Graveling looked around with a little cry of triumph. + +"It's a plot, this; nothing more nor less than a plot!" he declared +vigorously. "What sort of an Englishman does he call himself, I wonder? +It's the foreigners that are at the bottom of the lot of it! They want +our trade, they'd be glad of our country. They've bribed this man +Maraton to get it without the trouble of fighting for it, even!" + +Maraton moved towards the door. Holding it open, he turned and faced +them. + +"Before I came," he said, "I hoped that you might be men. I find you +just the usual sort of pigmies. You call yourselves people's men! You +haven't mastered the elementary truths of your religion. What's +England, or France, or any other country in the world, by the side of +humanity? Be off! I'll go my own way. Go yours, and take your little +tinsel of jingoism with you. Whenever you want to fight me, I shall be +ready." + +"And fight you we shall," Peter Dale thundered, "mark you that! There's +limits, even to us. The Government of this country mayn't be all it +should be, but, after all, it's our English Government, and there is a +point at which every man has to support it. The law is the law, and so +you may find out, my friend!" + +They filed out. Maraton closed the door after them. He was alone. He +threw open the window to get rid of the odour of tobacco smoke which +still hung about. The echo of their raucous voices seemed still in the +air. These were the men who should have been his friends and +associates! These were the men to whom he had the right to look for +sympathy! They treated him like a dangerous lunatic. Their own small +interests, their own small careers were threatened, and they were up in +arms without a moment's hesitation. Not one of them had made the +slightest attempt to see the whole truth. The word "revolution" had +terrified them. The approach of a crisis had driven their thoughts into +one narrow focus: what would it mean for them? + +He resumed his seat. The empty chairs pushed back seemed, somehow or +other, allegorical. He was alone. The man for whose friendship he had +indeed felt some desire, the man who had opened his hands and heart to +him--Stephen Foley--would know him henceforth no more. He drew his +thoughts resolutely away from that side of his life, closed his ears to +the music which beat there, crushed down the fancies which sprang up so +easily if ever he relaxed his hold upon his will. He was lonely; for +the first time in his life, perhaps, intensely lonely. In all the +country there was scarcely a human being who would not soon look upon +him as a madman. What did one live for, after all? Just to continue +the dull, hopeless struggle--to fight without hope of reward, to fight +with oneself as well as with the world? + +The door was opened softly. Julia came in. Perhaps she guessed from +his attitude something of his trouble, for she moved at once to his +side. + +"They have gone?" she asked. + +"They have gone," he admitted. + +She sighed. + +"I shall not ask you anything," she said, "because I know. Pigs of +men--pigs with their noses to the ground! How can they lift their +heads! You could not make them understand!" + +"I scarcely tried," he confessed. "They have found out, for one thing, +that I am wealthy, a fact that does not concern them in the least, and +they accused me of it as though it were a crime. It was all so +hopeless. You cannot make men understand who have not the capacity +for understanding. You cannot make the blind see. They even reminded +me that they were Englishmen. They talked the usual rubbish about +conquest and foreign enemies and patriotism." + +"Clods!" she muttered. "But you?" + +She sat down beside him, her eyes full of light. She laid her hands +boldly upon his. + +"You will not let yourself be discouraged?" she I pleaded. "Remember +that even if you are alone in the world, you are right. You fight +without hope of reward, without hope of appreciation. You will be the +enemy of every one, and yet you know in your heart that you have the +truth. You know it, and I know it, and Aaron knows it, and David Ross +believes it. There are millions of others, if you could only find them, +who understand, too--men too great to come out from their studies and +talk claptrap to the mob. There are other people in the world who +understand, who will sympathise. What does it matter that you cannot +hear their spoken voices? And we--well, you know about us." + +Her voice was almost a caress, the loneliness in his heart was so +intense. + +"Oh, you know about us!" she continued. "I--oh, I am your slave! And +Aaron! We believe, we understand. There isn't anything in this world," +she went on, with a little sob, "there isn't anything I wouldn't gladly +do to help you! If only one could help!" + +He returned very gently the pressure of her burning fingers. She drew +his eyes towards hers, and he was startled to see in those few minutes +how beautiful she was. There was inspiration in her splendidly modelled +face--the high forehead, the eyes brilliantly clear, kindled now with +the light of enthusiasm and all the softer burning of her exquisite +sympathy. Her lips--full and red they seemed--were slightly parted. +She was breathing quickly, like one who has run a race. + +"Oh, dear master," she whispered--"let me call you that--don't, even +for a moment, be faint-hearted!" + +The door was suddenly thrown open. Selingman entered, an enormous bunch +of roses in his hand, a green hat on the back of his head. + +"Faint-hearted?" he exclaimed. "What a word! Who is faint-hearted? +Julia, I have brought you flowers. You would have to kiss rue for them +if he were not here. Don't glower at me. Every one kisses me. Great +ladies would if I asked them to. That's the best of being a genius. +Lord, what a wreck he looks! What's wrong with you, man? I know! I +met them at the corner of the street. There was the rat-faced fellow +with the red tie, and the miner--Labour Members, they call themselves. +I would like to see them with a spade! Have you been trying to get at +their brains, Maraton? What's that to make a man like you depressed? +Did you think they had any? Did you think you could draw a single spark +of fire out of dull pap like that? Bah!" + +Julia was moving quietly about the room, putting the flowers in water. +Aaron had slipped in and was seated before his desk. Selingman, his +broad face set suddenly into hard lines, plumped himself into the chair +which Peter Dale had occupied. + +"Man alive, lift your head--lift your head to the skies!" he ordered. +"You're the biggest man in this country. Will you treat the prick of a +pin like a mortal wound? What did you expect from them? Lord +Almighty! . . . I've packed my bag. I'm ready for the road. Two +hundred and fifty pounds a time from the _Daily Oracle_ for thumbnail +sketches of the Human Firebrand! Lord, what is any one depressed for in +this country! It's chock-full of humour. If I lived here long, I +should be fat." + +He looked downward at his figure with complacency. Julia laughed +softly. + +"Aren't you fat now?" she asked. + +"Immense," he confessed, "but it's nothing to what I could be. It +agrees with me," he went on. "You see, I have learnt the art of being +satisfied with myself. I know what I am. I am content. That is where +you, my friend Maraton, need to grow a little older. Oh, you are great +enough, great enough if you only knew it! Even Maxendorf admits that, +and he told me frankly he's disappointed in you. Don't sit there like a +dumb figure any longer. We are all coming with you, aren't we? I have +brought my car over from Belgium. It is a caravan. It will hold us +all--Aaron, too. Let us start; let us get out of this accursed city. +Where is the first move?" + +"We can't leave tonight," Maraton said. "I am addressing a meeting of +the representatives of the Amalgamated Railway Workers--that is, if +Peter Dale doesn't manage to stop it. He'll do his best." + +"He won't succeed," Aaron declared eagerly. "I saw Ernshaw two hours +ago. They're on to Peter Dale and his move. Do you know why Peter Dale +was late here this afternoon? He'd been to Downing Street. I heard. +Foley's lost you, but he's holding on to the Labour Party. He's pitting +the Labour Party against you in the country." Selingman laughed +heartily. + +"He's got it!" he exclaimed. "That's the scheme. I am all for a fight, +spoiling for it. Fighting and eating are the grandest things in the +world! What time is the meeting?" + +"Seven o'clock," Maraton replied. + +"Two hours we will give you," Selingman continued. "Nine o'clock, a +little restaurant I know in the West End, the four of us before we +start. We will do ourselves well." + +"Before I leave London," Maraton said, "I must see Maxendorf once more." + +Selingman stroked his face thoughtfully. + +"Your risk," he remarked. "Don't you let these chaps think you are +mixed up with Maxendorf." + +"I must see Maxendorf," Maraton insisted. "When I leave London +to-night, the die is cast. I have cut myself adrift from everything in +life. I shall make enemies with every class of society. There must be +one word more pass between Maxendorf and me before I hold up the torch." + +"He's got it," Selingman declared. "The trick is on him already. +Maxendorf he shall see. I will arrange a meeting somewhere--not at the +hotel. Miss Julia, write down this address. This is where we all meet +at nine. Half-past six now. I will take you round to your meeting, +Maraton. Do you want any papers?" + +"I want no papers," Maraton answered. "I speak to these men to-night as +I shall speak to them in the north. I take no papers from London with +me, no figures, nothing. It is just the things I see I want to tell +them." + +Selingman nodded. + +"You shall speak immortal words," he declared. "And I--I am the one man +in the world to transcribe them, to write in the background, to give +them colour and point. What giants we are, Maraton--you with your +stream of words, and I with my pen! Miss Julia," he added, "remember +that you are to be our inspiration as well as my secretary. Put on your +prettiest clothes to-night. It is our last holiday." + +She looked at him coldly. + +"I do not wear pretty clothes," she said. + +"Little fool!" he exclaimed. "Just because you've the big things +beating in your brain, you'd like to close your eyes to the fact that +your sex is the most wonderful thing on God's earth. That's the worst +of a woman. If ever she begins to think seriously, she does her hair in +a lump, changes silk for cotton, forgets her corsets, and leaves off +ribbons. Silly, silly child!" he went on, shaking his forefinger at +her. "I tell you women have done their greatest work in the world when +their brains have been covered with a pretty hat. . . . There she +goes, he growled," as she left the room. "Thinks I'm a flippant old +windbag, I know. And I'm not. Why don't you fall in love with her, +Maraton? It would be the making of you. Even a prophet needs +relaxation. She is yours, body and soul. One can tell it with every +sentence she speaks. And she is for the cause," he concluded with a +graver note in his tone. "She has found the fire somewhere. There were +women like her who held Robespierre's hand." + +Maraton glanced up. Selingman was leaning forward and his eyes were +fixed steadily upon his friend. + +"I was afraid, just a little afraid," he said slowly, "of the other +woman. I am glad she didn't count enough. Women are the very devil +sometimes when they come between us and the right thing!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Selingman came into the restaurant with a huge rose in his buttonhole +and another bunch of flowers--carnations this time--in his hands. He +made his way to the little round table where Julia and Aaron were +seated. + +"For you, Miss Julia," he declared, depositing them by her side. "Pin +them in the front of your frock. Drink wine to-night. Be gay. Let us +see pink, also, in your cheeks. It is a great evening, this. Maraton +is here?" + +"Not yet," Julia answered, smiling. + +Selingman sat down between them. He gave a lengthy order to a waiter; +then he turned abruptly to Julia. + +"He will keep to it, you think? This time you believe that he has made +up his mind?" + +"I do," she asserted vigorously. + +"What is he made of, that man?" Selingman continued, sipping the +Vermouth which he had just ordered. "He makes love to you, eh? Ach! +never mind your brother. For a man like Maraton, what does it matter? +You are of the right stuff. You would be proud." + +She looked steadily out of the restaurant. + +"I have been a worker," she said, "in a clothing factory since I was old +enough to stand up, and what little time I have had to spare, I have +spent in study, in trying to fit myself for the fight against those +things that you and I and all of us know of. There has been no +opportunity," she went on, more slowly, "I have not allowed myself--" + +"Ah, but it comes--it must come!" Selingman interrupted. "You have the +instinct--I am sure of that. Use your power a little. It will be for +his good. Every man who neglects his passions, weakens. You have the +gifts, Julia. I tell you that--I, Selingman, who know much about woman +and more about love and life. You've felt it, too, yourself sometimes +in the quiet hours. Haven't you lain in your bed with your eyes wide +open, and seen the ceiling roll away and the skies lean down, and felt +the thoughts come stealing into your brain, till all of a sudden you +found that your pulses were beating fast, and your heart was trembling, +and there was a sort of faint music in your blood and in your ears? Ah, +well, one knows! Suffer yourself to think of these hours when he is +with you sometimes. Don't make an ice maiden of yourself. You've done +good work. I know all about you. You could do more splendid work still +if you could weave that little spell which you and I know of." + +"It is too late," she sighed, "too late now, he has become used to me. I +am a machine--nothing more, to him. He does not even realise that I am +a woman." + +"What do you expect?" Aaron asked harshly. "Why should a man, with +great things in his brain, waste a moment in thinking of women?" + +Selingman's under-lip shot out, a queer little way he had of showing his +contempt. + +"Little man," he told Aaron, "you are a fanatic. You do not understand. +It is a quarter past nine and I am hungry. . . . Ah!" + +Maraton came in just then. He had the air of a man who has been through +a crisis, but his eyes were bright as though with triumph. Selingman +stood up and filled a glass with wine. + +"The first rivet has been driven home," he cried. "I see it." + +"It has indeed," Maraton answered. "For good or for evil, the railway +strike is decided upon. There is civil war waging now, I can tell you," +he added, as he sat down. "Graveling was there with a message. The +whole of the Labour Party is against the strike. The leaders of the men +are hot for it, and the men themselves. There wasn't a single one of +them who hesitated. Ernshaw, who represents the Union, told me that +there wasn't one of them who wouldn't get the sack if he dared to waver. +They know what the Government did in Lancashire and they know what they +tried to do at Sheffield. With the railway companies they'll have even +more influence." + +"Let us dine," Selingman insisted, welcoming the approach of the +waiters. "You see me, a man of forty-five, robust, the picture of +health. How do I do it? In this manner. When I dine, all cares go to +the winds. When I dine, I forget the hard places, I let my brain free of +its burden. I talk nonsense I love best with a pretty woman. To-night +we will talk with Miss Julia. You see, I have brought her more flowers. +She does not wear them, but they lie by her plate." + +"I have never worn an ornament in my life," Julia told him, "and I don't +think that any one has ever given me flowers." + +Selingman groaned. + +"Oh, what pitiful words!" he exclaimed. "If there is one thing sadder +in life than the slavery of the people, it is to find a woman who has +forgotten her sex. Almost you inspire me, young lady, with the desire +to take you by the hand and offer you my escort into the gentler ways. +If I were sure of success, not even my fair friends on the other side of +the Channel could keep me from your feet. Maraton, look away from the +walls. There's nothing beyond--just a world full of fancies. There's +some _Sole Otero_ on your plate which is worth tasting, and there's +champagne in your glass. What matter if there are troubles outside? +That's good--there is music." + +He beckoned to the chef d'orchestre, engaged him for a few moments in +conversation, poured him out a glass of wine, and slipped something into +his hand. Then he recommenced his dinner with a chuckle of +satisfaction. + +"The little man can play," he declared. "He has it in his fingers. We +shall hear now the waltzes that I love. Ah, Miss Julia, why is this not +Paris! Why can I not get up and put my arm around your waist and whisper +in your ear as we float round and round in a waltz? Stupid questions! +I am too short to dance with you, for one thing, and much too fat, But +one loves to imagine. Listen." + +Maraton had already set down his knife and fork. The strains of the +waltz had come to him with a queer note of familiarity, a familiarity +which at first he found elusive. Then, as the movement progressed, he +remembered. Once more he was sitting in that distant corner of the +winter garden, hearing every now and then the faint sound of the +orchestra from the ballroom. It was the same waltz; alas, the same +music was warming his blood! And it was too late now. He had passed +into the other world. In his pocket lay the letter which he had +received that evening from Mr. Foley--a few dignified lines of bitter +disappointment. He was an outcast, one who might even soon be regarded +as the wrecker of his own country. And still the music grew and faded +and grew again. + +It was late before they had finished dinner, and Maraton took Selingman +to one side. + +"Remember," he insisted, "it is a bargain. Before I go north I must see +Maxendorf." + +Selingman nodded. + +"It is arranged," he said. "We both agreed that it was better for you +not to go to the hotel. Wait." + +He glanced at his watch and nodded. + +"Stay with your brother, little one," he directed, turning to Julia. +"We shall be away only a few moments. Come." + +"Where are we going?" Maraton enquired, as they passed through the +restaurant and ascended the stairs. + +Selingman placed his finger by the side of his nose. + +"A plan of mine," he whispered. "Maxendorf is here, in a private room." + +Selingman hurried his companion into a small private dining-room. +Maxendorf was sitting there alone, smoking a cigarette over the remnants +of an unpretentious feast. He welcomed them without a smile; his +aspect, indeed, as he waved his hand towards a chair, was almost +forbidding. + +"What do you want with me, Maraton?" he asked. "They tell me--Selingman +tells me--there was a word you had to say before you press the levers. +Say it, then, and remember that hereafter, the less communication +between you and me the better." + +Maraton ignored the chair. He stood a little way inside the room. +Through the partially opened window came the ceaseless roar of traffic +from the busy street below. + +"Maxendorf," he began, "there isn't much to be said. You +know--Selingman has told you--what my decision is. It took me some time +to make up my mind--only because I doubted one thing, and one thing +alone, in the world. That one thing, Maxendorf, was your good faith." + +Maxendorf lifted his eyes swiftly. + +"You doubted me," he repeated. + +"You're a people's man, I know," Maraton went one, "but here and there +one finds queer traits in your character. They say that you are also a +patriot and a schemer." + +"They say truly," Maxendorf admitted, "yet these things are by the way. +They occupy a little cell of life--no more. It is for the people I live +and breathe." + +"For the people of the world," Maraton persisted slowly--"for humanity? +Is there any difference in your mind, Maxendorf, between the people of +one country and the people of another?" + +Maxendorf never faltered. His long narrow face was turned steadily +towards Maraton. His eyebrows were drawn together. He spoke slowly and +with great distinctness. + +"I am for humanity," he declared. "Many of the people of my country I +have already freed. It is for the sufferers in other lands that I toil +in these days. If I am a patriot, it is because it is part of my +political outfit, and a political outfit is necessary to the man who +labours as I have laboured." + +"So be it, then," Maraton decided. "I accept your words. Within a +month from this time, the revolution will be here. This land will be +laid waste, the terror will be brewed. I fear nothing, Maxendorf, but +as one man to another I have come to tell you, before I start north, +that if in your heart there is a single grain of deceit, if ever it +shall be made clear to me that I have been made the cat's-paw of what +you have called patriotism, if the people of this country have left a +breath of life in my body, I shall dedicate it to a purpose at which you +can guess." + +"It is to threaten me that you have come?" Maxendorf asked quietly. + +"Don't put it like that," Maraton replied. "These are just the words +which you yourself cannot fail to understand. Neither you nor I hold +life so dearly that the thought of losing it need make us quaver. I am +here only to say this one word--to tell you that the heavens have never +opened more surely to let out the lightning, than will your death be a +charge upon me if you should vary even a hair's-breadth from our +contract. If Maxendorf, the people's man, hides himself for only a +moment in the shadow of Maxendorf the politician, he shall die!" + +Maxendorf held out his hand. + +"Death," he said scornfully, "is not the greatest ill with which you +could threaten me, but let it be so. Humanity shall be our motto--no +other." + +"You spar at one another," Selingman declared, "like a couple of +sophists. You are both men of the truth, you are both on your way to +the light. I give you my benediction. I watch over you--I, Selingman. +I am the witness of the joining of your hands. Unlock the gates without +fear, Maraton. Maxendorf will do his work." + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +About seven miles from London, Selingman gave the signal for the car to +pull up. They drew in by the side of the road and they all stood up in +their places. Before them, the red glow which hung over the city was +almost lurid; strange volumes of smoke were rising to the sky. + +"Rioters," Selingman muttered. + +Julia looked around with a little shiver. There were no trains running, +and a great many of the shops were closed. Some of the people lounging +about in the streets had the air of holiday makers. Little bands of men +were marching arm in arm, shouting. Occasionally one of them picked up +a stone and threw it through a shop window. They had not seen a +policeman for miles. + +"It is the beginning of the end," Maraton said slowly. "The only pity +is that one must see it at all." + +Julia pointed down the road. + +"What is that?" she asked. + +A long, grey-looking line was slowly unwinding itself into the level +road. It came into sight like a serpent. It reached as far as the eye +could see. From somewhere behind, they heard the sound of music. + +"Soldiers," Maraton replied--"marching, too." + +They moved the car over to the other side of the road. Presently a +mounted officer galloped on ahead and rode up to them. + +"Your name and address, please?" + +Maraton hesitated. + +"Why do you ask for it?" he demanded. + +"I am sorry to inform you that your car must be surrendered at once," +was the reply. "I hope we shall not inconvenience you very much but +those are the general orders. Every motor car is to be commandeered. +Sorry for the lady. Give me your name and address, please, at once, the +cost price of your car, and how long it has been in your possession?" + +Selingman gasped. + +"Is the country at war?" he asked. "We have come from South Wales +to-day. We heard nothing en route." + +"There are no newspapers being issued," the officer told them. "The +telegraph is abandoned to the Government, and also the telephone. Even +we have no idea what is happening. We are trying to run a few trains +through to the north but we have had a couple of hundred men killed +already. They are to start again the other side of Romford. In the +meantime, I am sorry, but I am bound to take possession of your car at +once." + +"My name is Selingman." + +The officer looked at him curiously. + +"Are you Henry Selingman," he enquired--"I mean the fellow who has been +writing about Maraton?" + +Selingman nodded. + +"Then I am afraid I can't say I do feel so sorry to inconvenience you," +the officer continued grimly. "Alight at once, if you please--all of +you." + +"But how are we to get into London?" Selingman protested. + +"Walk," the officer replied promptly. "Be thankful if you reach there +at all; and keep to the main streets, especially if the lady is going +with you. + +"Are there no police left?" Maraton demanded. + +"We drafted most of them away to the riot centres. Then the train +service ceased, too, and they haven't been able to come back. Now we +have had an alarm from somewhere--I don't know where and we've got +orders to push troops towards the east coast. If you'll take my advice, +Mr. Selingman," the officer concluded, "you'll keep your name to +yourself for a little time. People who've been associated in any way +with Maraton are not too popular just now around here." + +Some more officers had ridden up. Two were already in the car. Soon it +vanished in a cloud of dust on its way back. Julia, Selingman, Aaron +and Maraton were left in the road, along which the soldiers were still +marching. They started out to walk. Now and then a motor-car rattled +by, full of soldiers, but for the most part the streets were almost +empty. No one spoke to them or attempted to molest them in any way. As +they drew nearer London, however, the streets became more and more +crowded. Men in the middle of the road were addressing little knots of +listeners. There was a complete row of shops, the plate-glass windows +of which had been knocked in and the contents raided. They pushed +steadily onwards. Here and there, little groups of loiterers assumed a +threatening aspect. They came across the dead body of a man lying upon +the pavement. No one seemed to mind. Very few of the passers-by even +glanced at him. Selingman shivered. + +"Ghastly!" he muttered. "This reminds me of the first days of the +French troubles. How quiet the people keep! They are tired of robbing +for money. It is food they want. A sandwich just now would be a +dangerous possession." + +They reached Algate. There were still no trains running, and nearly all +the houses were tightly shuttered. + +"Six weeks!" Maraton murmured to himself as he looked around. "Could +any one believe that this might happen in six weeks!" + +"Why not?" Selingman demanded. "You stop the arteries of life when you +stop all communication from centre to centre. It's the most merciful +way, after all. Everything will be over the sooner." + +They passed down Threadneedle Street, a wilderness with boards nailed up +in front of the great bank windows. A little further on there was the +usual crowd of people, but they were all hanging about, uncertain what +to do. There was no Stock Exchange business being transacted, simply +because there were no buyers. At the Mansion House they found a few +'buses running, and managed to board one which was going westwards. It +set them down in New Oxford Street, not far from Russell Square. Here +there were denser crowds than ever. The entrance to the square itself +was almost blocked. + +"What's going on here?" Maraton asked a loiterer. + +They heard a loud, hoarse yell, repeated several times. The man pointed +with his finger. + +"They are round. Maraton's house," he answered. "They have broken in +all his windows. He's not there or they'd have had him out and flayed +him alive." + +A brief silence ensued. There seemed something ominous in this message, +delivered apparently from one typical of his class, a worker out of +work, a pipe in his mouth, a generally aimless air about his movements. + +"But forgive me," Selingman remarked, "I am a stranger in this country. +I have been told that Maraton is a friend of the people." + +The man nodded gloomily. + +"There's plenty that calls him so in other parts of the country," he +assented. "I belong to a Working Man's Club and what we can't see is +what's the bally use of a job like this? He's bitten off more than he +can chew--that's what Maraton's done. He's stopped the railways and the +coal, and even you can tell what that means, I suppose, sir? Pretty +well every factory in the country is shutting down or has shut down. +Well, supposing the Government make terms, which they say they can't. +The miners and railway men may get a bit more. What about all the rest +of us? We're more likely to get a bit less. Then what if the Germans +get over here? There's all sorts of rumours about this morning. They +say that three-quarters of the fleet is hung up for want of coal. . . . +My! Look there, they've fired his house! I wouldn't be in his shoes +for something! They say he's hiding up in Northumberland." + +The man passed on. Maraton was the first to speak. + +"Come," he said quietly, "there is nothing here to be discouraged at. +We knew very well that for the first few months--years, perhaps--this +thing had to be faced. We must get rooms somewhere. I have to meet the +railway men to-night. Young Ernshaw rode up from Derby on a motor-cycle +to make the appointment. As for you, Selingman," Maraton went on, as +they turned back towards New Oxford Street, "why do you stay here? Your +coming has been splendid. It has been a joy to have you near. But +between ourselves," he added, lowering his voice, "you know what mobs +are. Take my advice and get back home for a time. We shall meet +again." + +Selingman shook his head. + +"I helped to light the torch," he declared. "I'll see it burn for a +while. I was in Paris through the last riots--a dirty sight it was! +You'll pull through this. Maybe we're better apart for a time. But +we'll see one another housed first," he added. "I want to know where +you all are." + +There was no difficulty about shelter of a sort. The private hotels, +which were plentiful in the neighbourhood, were half empty, and supplied +rooms readily enough, although they were curiously apathetic about the +matter. At each one of them the charges for food were enormous. +Maraton divided a bundle of notes into half and made Aaron take one +portion. + +"Look after Julia," he directed, "and I think you'd better keep away +from me. A good many of them knew that you were my secretary. Look +after your sister. Keep quiet for a time. Wait." + +He tore a sheet of paper from his pocket-book, wrote a few lines upon it +and twisted it up. + +"You will find an address in New York there," he said. "If anything +happens to me, go over and present it in person." + +Aaron took it almost mechanically. His eyes scarcely for a second had +left his master's face. + +"Let me stay here," he begged, "if it's only an attic. There may be +work to be done. Let me stay, sir. My little bit of life is of no more +account to me than a snap of the fingers. Don't send me away. Julia's +a woman--they won't hurt her. She can go back to her old rooms. The +streets are quite orderly. Let me stay, sir!" + +"No one seemed to notice us come in," Julia pleaded. "Let me stay, too. +You heard what the porter said--we could choose what rooms we liked. It +is safer in this part of London than in the East End, and you know," she +added, looking at him steadily, "that if there is trouble to come, I +have no fear." + +Maraton hesitated. Perhaps they were as well where they were, under +shelter. He nodded. + +"Very well," he agreed. "There seems to be no one to show us about. We +will go and select rooms." + +In the hall they passed a man in the livery of the hotel. Maraton +enquired the way to the telephone, but he only shook his head. + +"Telephone isn't working, sir," he announced, "not to private +subscribers, at any rate. They haven't answered a call for two days." + +"Are any meals being served in the restaurant?" Maraton asked. + +The man shook his head. + +"Not regular meals, sir," he replied. "What food we've got is all +locked up. You can get something between eight and nine. We close the +hotel doors then." + +"They tell me I can select any room I like upstairs that isn't +occupied," Maraton remarked. + +The porter nodded. + +"Nearly all the servants have gone," he explained, "so they can't try to +run the hotel. Gone out to find food somewhere. They couldn't feed +them here." + +"Is there wine in the place?" Selingman asked. + +"Plenty," the man answered. + +"If needs be, then, we will carouse," Selingman declared. "First, a +wash. Then I will forage. Leave it to me to forage, you others. I +know the tricks. I shall not go away. I shall stay here with you." + +They selected rooms--Maraton and Selingman adjoining ones on the first +floor; the others higher up. Then Selingman departed on his expedition, +and Maraton sat down before the window in the sitting-room. He drew +aside the curtain and stared. They had been in the hotel rather less +than half an hour, but the autumn twilight had deepened rapidly. +Darkness had fallen upon the city--a strange, unredeemed darkness. The +street lamps were unlit. It was as though a black hand had been laid +upon the place. Only here and there the sky was reddened as though with +conflagration. Maraton's head sunk upon his arms. These, indeed, were +the days when he would need all his courage. He threw open the window. +There was a curious silence without. The roar of traffic had ceased +entirely. The only sound was the footfall of the people upon the +pavement. He looked down into the street, crowded with little knots of +men, one or two of them carrying torches. He watched them stream by. +It was the breaking up of the crowd which had gathered together to sack +and burn his house. + + +The door was softly opened and closed again. He turned half around. +Through the shadows he saw Julia's pale face as she came swiftly towards +him. With a sudden gesture she fell on her knees by his side. Her +fingers clasped him, she clung to his arm. + +"Ah, I knew that I should find you like this!" she cried. "Don't look +down into the street, don't look at those unlit places! Look up to the +skies. See, there is a star there already. Nothing up there--nothing +which really matters--is altered. This is only the destruction that +must come before the dawn. It was you yourself who prophesied it, you +yourself who saw it so clearly. Oh, don't be sad because you have +pulled down the pillars! It isn't so very long before the morning." + +He passed his arm around her and gripped her fingers tightly. So they +were sitting when, by and by, Selingman burst into the room. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Selingman was once more entirely his old self. He staggered into the +room with a tin of biscuits under one arm, and three bottles of hock +under the other, all of which he deposited noisily upon the round table +in the middle of the room. + +"I am the prince of caterers," he declared. "I surpass myself. Come +out of the shadows, you dreamer. There is work to be done, food to be +eaten, wine to be drunk." + +From his left-hand pocket he produced three candles, which he placed at +intervals along the mantelpiece and lit. Then for the first time he saw +Julia. + +"Ah," he cried, "our inspiration! Congratulate yourself, dear Miss +Julia. After all, you are going to dine or sup, or whatever meal you +may choose to call it. Behold!" + +From his other pocket he produced two great jars of potted meat, a jar +of jam, a handful of miscellaneous knives and forks, and a corkscrew. + +"I have found an intelligent person here," he confided to them. "He has +shown me the way to the wine cellar. Only the landlord and he are +permitted to fetch wine. They fear a raid. Niersteiner, of a +reasonable vintage." + +"I will fetch Aaron," Julia said as she left the room. + +"The girl worships you, and you're a beast to her," Selingman exclaimed, +his eyes fixed upon the door through which she had vanished. "A man, +indeed! A creature of wood and sawdust! Listen!" + +His hand flashed out, his hand which grasped still the corkscrew. + +"Listen, you man from the clouds," he continued. "I shall rob you of +her. I adore her. To-day she may think me merely fat and eccentric. +Don't rely upon that. I have the gift when I choose. I can tell fairy +tales, I can creep a little way into her mind and fill her brain with +delicate fancies, build images there and destroy them, play softly upon +the keynote of her emotions, until one day she will wake up and what +will have happened? She will be mine!" + +He banged the table with the bottle of wine he was holding. Then, with +great care and accuracy, he drew the cork. + +"Your health!" he cried, raising his glass. "Ah, no! I have not sipped +the wine. I change the toast. To Julia!" + +Maraton rose to his feet, and turned his back upon the gloomy darkness +which brooded over the city. He took the glass of wine which Selingman +was holding out and leaned towards him earnestly. + +"My friend," he said, "it seems strange to me that we speak of these +things at such an hour. Yet let me tell you something. I don't know +why I want to tell you, but I do. I am not, perhaps, quite what you +think me. Only, the night you and I went north together, the gates of +that world which you speak of so easily were closed behind me." + +"It was the other woman," Selingman exclaimed. + +"It was the other woman," Maraton echoed. + +Selingman set down the bottle upon the table. Two great tears rolled +down from his blue eyes. He held out both his hands and gripped +Maraton's. + +"My friend," he said, "now indeed I love you! We are twin souls. You, +too, are human as you are wonderful. You see what an old woman I am. +This sentiment--oh, it will be the end of me! But tell me--I must know. +It was because you went north that it was ended?" + +Maraton nodded slowly. + +"I chose the opposite camp," he answered. "What could I do?" + +"Nature," Selingman declared, brandishing a great silk handkerchief, "is +the queerest mistress who ever played pranks with us. Here, in the same +camp, dwells a divinity, and you--you must peer down into the lower +world. . . . Never mind, potted meat and hock are good. Julia," he +added, turning his head at the sound of the opening door, "to genius in +adversity all gentle familiarities are permitted. I grant myself the +privilege of your Christian name. Come and grace our feast. I have +found food and wine. I am your self-appointed caterer. There is no +butter, but that is simply one of those pleasant tests for us, a test of +will and fortitude. All my life until to-night I have loved butter. +From henceforth--until we can get it again--I detest it. Let us eat, +drink and be merry. Where is Aaron?" + +"He went out into the streets," Julia replied. "He will be back +presently." + +Aaron came in a few minutes later, struggling with the weight of the +parcels he was carrying. He laid them down upon the sideboard, and +turned towards Maraton with an air of triumph. + +"I've been there, sir," he announced. "I've got the letters, your +private dispatch box, and a lot of papers we needed. It's only the +outside walls of the house that are charred. The fire was put out +almost at once. And I've seen Ernshaw." + +Maraton's eyes were lit with pleasure. + +"You're a fine fellow, Aaron," he commended. + +"I've got my bicycle, too," Aaron continued. "I can get half over +London, if necessary, while you stay here." + +"Tell me about Ernshaw?" Maraton begged quickly. + +"He's loyal--they all are," Aaron cried. "Oh, you should hear him talk +about Peter Dale and Graveling, and that lot! They're spread up north +now, all of them, trying to kill the strike. And the men won't move +anywhere. His own miners wouldn't listen to Dale. Mr. Foley sent him +up to Newcastle in his motor-car. They played a garden hose on him and +burned an effigy of himself, dressed in old woman's clothes. Mr. +Foley's had the railway men to Downing Street twice, but they've never +wavered. Ernshaw is splendid. There are seven of them, and Ernshaw's +own words were that they've made up their minds that grass could grow in +the tracks and hell fires scorch up the land before they'd go back to +slavery. They're for you, sir, body and soul. They won't give in." + +"Thank God!" Maraton muttered. "What about the mob?" + +"Loafers and wastrels," Aaron exclaimed indignantly, "dirty parasites of +humanity, thieves; not an honest worker amongst them! They're the sort +who shouted themselves hoarse on Mafeking night and hid in their holes +when the war drums were calling. The authorities got a hundred police +from somewhere, and they crumbled away like rats running for their +holes. Ernshaw asks you not to go back to Russell Square because of the +difficulty of getting at you, but this was his message to you, sir, when +I told him of your arrival. He begged me to tell you that they were the +scum of the earth; that from Newcastle to the Thames the men who stand +idle to-day wait in faith and trust for your word and yours only. He +will be here before long." + +Selingman nodded ponderously. His mouth was very full, but he did not +delay his speech. + +"You have brought a splendid message, young man," he pronounced. "Sit +down and eat with us. Exercise your imagination but a little and you +will indeed believe that you have been bidden to a feast of Lucullus. +Has any one, I wonder, ever appreciated the marvellous and yet subtle +sympathy which can exist between potted meat and biscuits--especially +when washed down with hock? Join us, my young friend Aaron. Abandon +yourself with us to the pleasure of the table. We will discuss any +subject upon the earth--except butter! Miss Julia, do you know where I +shall go when I leave here? No? I go to seek chocolates and flowers +for you." + +She laughed gaily. + +"Chocolates and flowers," she repeated, "at ten o'clock at night! And +for me, too!" + +"And why not for you?" Selingman demanded, almost indignantly. "You are +like all enthusiasts of your sex. You are too intense, you concentrate +too much. You have lived in a cold and austere atmosphere. You have +waited a long time for the hand which is to lead you into the sunshine." + +She laughed at him once more, yet perhaps this time a little wistfully. + +"Very well," she promised, "I will reform. I will eat all the +chocolates you can bring me, and I will sleep with your flowers at my +bedside. There! Am I improving?" + +Selingman rose to his feet. He drained his glass of wine and lit one of +his long black cigars by the flame of the candle. + +"Dear Julia," he said, "you have spoken. I start on the quest of my +life." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +Selingman had scarcely left the place when Ernshaw arrived, piloted into +the room by Aaron, who had been waiting for him below. Maraton and he +gripped hands heartily. During the first few days of the campaign they +had been constant companions. + +"At least," he declared, as he looked into Maraton's face, "whatever the +world may think of the justice of their cause, no one will ever any +longer deny the might of the people." + +"None but fools ever did deny it," Maraton answered. + +"How are they in the north?" Ernshaw asked. + +"United and confident," Maraton assured him. "Up there I don't think +they realise the position so much as here. In Nottingham and Leicester, +people are leading their usual daily lives. It was only as we neared +London that one began to understand." + +"London is paralysed with fear," Ernshaw asserted, "perhaps with reason. +The Government are working the telephones and telegraph to a very small +extent. The army engineers are doing the best they can with the East +Coast railways." + +"What about Dale and his friends?" + +Ernshaw's dark, sallow face was lit with triumph. + +"They are flustered to death like a lot of rabbits in the middle of a +cornfield, with the reapers at work'!" he exclaimed. "Heckled and +terrified to' death! Cecil was at them the other night. 'Are you not,' +he cried, 'the representatives of the people?' Wilmott was in the +House--one of us--treasurer for the Amalgamated Society, and while Dale +was hesitating, he sprang up. 'Before God, no!' he answered. 'There +isn't a Labour Member in this House who stands for more than the +constituency he represents, or is here for more than the salary he +draws. The cause of the people is in safer hands.' Then they called for +you. There have been questions about your whereabouts every day. They +wanted to impeach you for high treason. Through all the storm, Foley is +the only man who has kept quiet. He sent for me. I referred him to +you." + +"The time for conferences is past," Maraton said firmly. + +"We know it," Ernshaw replied. "What's the good of them? A sop for the +men, a pat on the back for their leaders, a buttering Press, and a +public who cares only how much or how little they are inconvenienced. +We have had enough of that. My men must wake into a new life, or sleep +for ever." + +"What is the foreign news?" Maraton asked. + +"All uncertain. The air is full of rumours. Several Atlantic liners +are late, and reports have come by wireless of a number of strange +cruisers off Queenstown. Personally, I don't think that anything +definite has been done. The moment to strike isn't yet. The Admiralty +have been working like slaves to get coal to their fleet." + +"You came alone?" Maraton enquired. + +Ernshaw nodded. + +"I came alone because the seven of us are as men with one heart. We are +with you into hell!" + +"And the men," Maraton continued,--"I wonder how many of them realise +what they may have to go through." + +"You stirred something up in them," Ernshaw said slowly, "something they +have never felt before. You made them feel that they have the right of +nature to live a dignified life, and to enjoy a certain share of the +profits of their labour, not as a grudgingly given wage but as a +law-established right. There's a feeling born in them that's new--it's +done them good already. I never heard so little grumbling at the pay. +I think it's in their heart that they're fighting for a principle this +time, and not for an extra coin dragged from the unwilling pockets of +men who have no human right to be the janitors of what their labour +produces. They've got the proper feeling at last, sir. You've touched +something which is as near the religious sense as anything a man can +feel who has no call that way. It's something that will last, too! +Their womenkind have laid hold of it. When they start life again, they +mean to start on a different plane." + +"How are the accounts lasting out?" Maraton asked. + +Ernshaw produced some books from his pocket and they sat down at the +table. + +"We're not so badly off for money," he declared. "It's the purchasing +power of it that's making things difficult. I have spread the people +out as much as I can. It's the best chance, but next week will be a +black one." + +They pored over the figures for a time. Outside, the streets were +almost as silent as death. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and they +both looked up hastily. Selingman stood there, but Selingman +transformed. All the colour seemed to have left his cheeks; his eyes +were burning with a steely fire. He closed the door behind him and he +shivered where he stood. Maraton sprang to his feet. + +"What, in God's name, has happened, man?" he cried. "Quick!" + +Selingman came a little further into the room. He raised his hands +above his head; his voice was thick with horror. + +"I have betrayed you!" he moaned. "I have betrayed the people!" + +He stood there, still trembling. Maraton poured him out wine, but he +swept it away. + +"No more of those things for me!" he continued. "Listen to my tale. If +there is a God, may he hear me! By every line I have written, by every +world of fancy into which I have been led, by every particle of what +nations have called my genius, I swear that I speak the truth!" + +"I believe you," Maraton said. "Go on. Tell me quickly." + +"I trusted Maxendorf," Selingman proceeded, his voice shaking, "trusted +and loved him as a brother. I have been his tool and his dupe!" + +Maraton felt himself suddenly at the edge of the world. He leaned over +and looked into the abyss called hell. For a moment he shivered; then +he set his teeth. + +"Go on," he repeated. + +"Maxendorf and I have spoken many times of the future of this country. +The dream which he outlined for you, he has spoken of to me with +glittering eyes, with heaving chest, with trembling voice. It was his +scheme that I should take you to him. You, too, believed as I did. +To-night I visited him. I stepped in upon the one weak moment of his +life. He needed a confidant. He was bursting with joy and triumph. He +showed me his heart; he showed me the great and terrible hatred which +burns there for England and everything English. The people's man, he +calls himself! He is for the people of his own country and his own +country only! You and I have been the tools of his crafty schemes. +This country, if he possesses it, he will occupy as a conqueror. He +will set his heel upon it. He will demand the greatest indemnity of all +times. And every penny of it will flow into his beloved land. We +thought that the dawn had come, we poor, miserable and deluded victims +of his craft. We are dooming the people of this country to generations +of slavery!" + +Maraton for a moment sat quite still. When he spoke, his tone was +singularly matter-of-fact. + +"Where is Maxendorf?" he asked. + +"Still at the hotel. The Embassy was not ready, and he has made +excuses. He is more his own master there." + +Maraton turned to Ernshaw. + +"Ernshaw," he begged, "wait here for me. Wait." + +He took up his hat and left the room. Selingman stood almost as though +he were praying. + +"Now," he muttered, "is the time for the strong man!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +Into the salon of Maxendorf's suite at the Ritz Hotel, freed for a +moment from its constant stream of callers, came suddenly, without +announcement--from a place of hiding, indeed--Maraton. He stepped into +the room swiftly and closed the door. Maxendorf was standing with his +back to his visitor, bending over a map. + +"Who's that?" he asked, without looking up "You, Franz? You, Beldeman?" + +There was no reply. Maxendorf straightened his gaunt figure and turned +around. He stood there motionless, the palm of one hand covering the +map at which he had been gazing, the lamplight shining on his gaunt, +strangely freckled face. + +"You!" he muttered. + +Maraton remained still speechless. Maxendorf stretched out his hand for +the telephone, but before he could grasp it, his hand was struck into +the air. He wasted no time asking useless questions. His visitor's +face was enough. + +"What have you to gain by this?" he demanded. "Even if you could take +my life, it will alter nothing." + +Maraton caught him fiercely by the throat. Maxendorf, notwithstanding +his superior height, was powerless. He was forced slowly backwards +across the couch, on to the floor. Maraton knelt by his side. His +grasp was never for a second relaxed. + +"I leave you to-night," Maraton whispered, "with a gasp or two of life +in you, but remember this. If I fail to undo your work, as sure as I +live, I will keep my word. My hand shall find your throat again--your +throat, do you hear?--and shall hold you there, tighter and tighter, +until the life slips out of your body, just as it is almost slipping +now!" + +Maxendorf was unconscious. Maraton suddenly threw him away. Then he +left the room, rang for the lift and made his way once more out into the +street. Piccadilly was a shadowy wilderness. St. James's Street was +thronged with soldiers marching into the Park. Maraton pursued his way +steadily into Pall Mall and Downing Street. Even here there were very +few people, and the front of Mr. Foley's house was almost deserted, +save for one or two curious loiterers and a couple of policemen. +Maraton rang the bell and found no trouble in obtaining admittance. The +butler, however, shook his head when asked if Mr. Foley was at home. + +"Mr. Foley is at the War Office, sir," he announced. "We cannot tell +what time to expect him." + +"I shall wait," Maraton replied. "My business is of urgent importance." + +The butler made no difficulty. He recognised Maraton as a guest of the +house and he showed him into the smaller library, which was generally +used as a waiting-room for more important visitors. It was the room in +which Maraton had had his first conversation with Mr. Foley. He looked +around him with faint, half painful curiosity. If was like a place +which he had known well in some other life. It seemed impossible to +believe that he was the same man, or that this was the same room. Yet +it was barely four months ago! Too restless to sit still, he walked up +and down the apartment with quick, unsteady footsteps. Then suddenly +the door opened. Elisabeth appeared. She recognised Maraton and +started. She looked at him with a fixed, incredulous stare. + +"You?" she exclaimed. "You here? What do you want?" + +"Your uncle," he answered. "How long will he be?" + +She closed the door behind her with trembling fingers. Then she came +further into the room and confronted him. + +"Why are you here?" she demanded. "To gloat over your work?" + +"To undo it, if I can," he replied quickly,--"a part of it, at any +rate. I fell into a trap--Selingman and I. I've a way out, if there's +time. I want your uncle." + +"You mean it?" she begged feverishly, her face lightening. "Oh, don't +raise our hopes again just to disappoint us!" + +"I mean it," he reiterated. "I want your uncle. With his help, if he +has the courage, if he dare face the inevitable, I'll break the railway +strike to-night and the coal strike to-morrow." + +She sat down suddenly. She, too, had changed during the last few +months. Her face was thinner; there were lines under her eyes. She had +lost something of the fresh, delicate splendour of youth which had made +her seem so dazzling. + +"I can't believe that you are in earnest," she faltered. + +"There isn't any doubt about it," he assured her. "Send round and hurry +your uncle." + +She moved to the writing-table and wrote a few lines hastily. Then she +rang the bell and gave them to a servant. She was still without a +vestige of colour. + +"I can't dare to feel hopeful," she observed gloomily, when the door had +been closed and they were once more alone. "We trusted you before, we +believed that everything would be well. You were brutal to us both--to +me as well as to my uncle." + +"I made no promises," he reminded her. "I broke no ties. I was a +people's man; I still am. I took the course I thought best. I thought +I saw a way to real freedom." + +"It was Maxendorf!" she exclaimed, under her breath. + +He nodded. + +"Maxendorf was too clever for me," he confessed. "Perhaps, just at this +moment, he is a little sorry for it." + +"What do you mean?" she asked hastily. + +Maraton shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, he's alive--only just, though! I shook the life nearly out of him. +He knows that if we fail within these next twenty-four hours, your uncle +and I, I am going to take what's left. I promised him that." + +Her eyes glowed. + +"You are a strange person," she declared. "How did you come to see +the truth--to know that you had been misled by Maxendorf?" + +"It was Selingman who told me," he explained. "Selingman, too, was +deceived, but Selingman was nearer to him. He discovered the truth and +he came to me. It was a matter of two hours ago. I made my way first +to Maxendorf. I remembered my promise. I waited about in the corridors +outside his room until I saw an opportunity. Then I slipped in and took +him by the throat. Oh, he's alive, but not very much alive to-night!" + +"Tell me about your wonderful journey north?" she begged. + +He shook his head. + +"Just at present it is like a nightmare," he replied. "We went from +place to place and I preached the new salvation. I told them to trust +in me and I would lead them to the light. I believed it. Though the way +I knew must be strewn with difficulties, though there were great risks +and much suffering, I believed it. I saw the dawn of the millennium. I +made them believe that I saw it. They placed their trust in me. I have +led them to the brink of God knows what!" + +"You have led them to the brink of war," she said gravely. "We wait for +its declaration every hour, my uncle and I. They know our plight. They +are waiting for the exactly correct minute." + +"They may wait a day too long," Maraton muttered. "For myself, I +believe that they have already waited a day too long. Maxendorf was too +certain. He never dreamed that I might learn the truth. Listen!" + +A car stopped outside. They heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, +the door was quickly opened. Mr. Foley stood there. He was looking +very grave and white, but his eyes flashed at the sight of Maraton. + +"You!" he exclaimed. + +He gave his coat and hat to the servant; then he closed the door behind +him. He remained standing--he offered no form of greeting to his +unexpected visitor. + +"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why have you come to me?" + +"To give you your chance," Maraton replied, with swift emphasis. "You +are the only statesman I know who would have courage to accept it. Dare +you?" + +Mr. Foley remained speechless. He stood perfectly still, with folded +arms. + +"This isn't an hour for recriminations," Maraton continued. "I have +played into Maxendorf's hands--I admit it. There's time to checkmate +him. I'll free every railroad in the country to-morrow, and the +coal-pits next day, with your help." + +"I have forced your delegates to come to me," Mr. Foley answered. "To +all my offers they have but one reply: they await your word; they are +not seeking for terms." + +"Accept mine," Maraton begged, "and I swear to you that they shall +consent. Mind, it isn't a small thing, but it's salvation, and it's +the only salvation." + +"Go on," Mr. Foley commanded. + +"Pledge your word," Maraton proceeded deliberately, "pledge me your word +that next Session you will nationalise the railways on the basis of +three per cent for capital, a minimum wage of two pounds ten, a maximum +salary of eight hundred pounds, contracts to be pro rata if profits are +not earned. Pledge me that, and the railway strike is over." + +"It's Socialism," Elisabeth gasped. + +"It's common sense," Mr. Foley declared. "I accept. What about the +coal?" + +"You don't need to ask me that," Maraton replied swiftly. "Our +coalfields are the blood and sinews of the country. They belong to the +Government more naturally even than the labour-made railways. Take +them. Pay your fair price and take them. Do away with the horde of +money-bloated parvenus, who fatten and decay on the immoral profits they +drag from Labour. We are at the parting of the ways. We wait for the +strong man. Raise your standard, and the battle is already won." + +"And you?" Mr. Foley muttered. + +"I am your man," Maraton answered. + +Mr. Foley held out his hand. + +"If you mean it," he said gravely, "we'll get through yet. But are you +sure about the others--Ernshaw and his Union men? We've tried all human +means, and Ernshaw is like a rock. Dale and Graveling and all the rest +have done what they could. Ernshaw remains outside. I thought that I +had won the Labour Party. It seems to me, when the trouble came, that +they represented nothing." + +"They don't," Maraton agreed, "but Ernshaw represents the people, and I +represent Ernshaw. He was with me only a little time ago. There won't +be a Labour Party any longer. It will be a National Party, and you will +make it." + +"I am an old man," Mr. Foley murmured slowly, but his eyes kindled as +he spoke. + +They both laughed at him. + +"Young enough to found a new Party," Maraton insisted, "young enough to +bring the country into safety once more." + +The atmosphere seemed heavily charged with emotion. Elisabeth's eyes +were shining. She held out her hands to Maraton, and he kept them +reverently in his. + +"To-night," he announced, "with Ernshaw's help I start for the north. +In a few hours we shall have freed the railway lines. I leave the Press +to you, Mr. Foley. I shall go on to the mines." + +"And I?" Lady Elisabeth asked. "What is my share? Is there nothing I +can do?" + +Their eyes met for one long moment. + +"When I return," he said quietly, "I will tell you." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +From town to town, travelling for the most part on the platform of an +engine, Maraton sped on his splendid mission. It was Ernshaw himself +who drove, with the help of an assistant, but as they passed from place +to place the veto was lifted. The men in some districts were a little +querulous, but at Maraton's coming they were subdued. It was peace, a +peace how splendid they were soon to know. By mid-day, trains laden +with coal were rushing to several of the Channel ports. Maraton found +his task with the miners more difficult, and yet in a way his triumph +here was still more complete. He travelled down the backbone of +England, preaching peace where war had reigned, promising great things +in the name of the new Government. Although he had been absent barely +forty-eight hours, it was a new London into which he travelled on his +return. The streets were crowded once more with taxicabs, the evening +papers were being sold, the shops were all open, the policemen were once +more in the streets. Selingman, who had scarcely once left Maraton's +side, gazed about him with wonder. + +"It is a miracle, this," he declared. "There is no aftermath." + +"The people are waiting," Maraton said. "We have given them serious +pledges. Their day is to come." + +"You believe that Foley will keep his word?" Selingman asked. + +"I know that he will," Maraton replied. "As soon as the Bills are +drafted, he will go to the country. It will be a new Party--the +National Party. Stay and see it, Selingman--a new era in the politics +of the world, a very wonderful era. The country is going to be governed +for the people that are worth while." + +"If one could but live long enough!" Selingman sighed. "All over the +universe it comes. Where was it one read of footsteps that sounded +amongst the hills like footsteps upon wool? In the night-watches you +can hear those footsteps. The world trembles with them." + +"And after all," Maraton continued, "the sun of the world's happiness is +made up of the happiness of units. Presently we shall have time to +think of those things." + +"It is true," Selingman said disconsolately. "I find myself rejoicing +in the good which is coming to humanity and forgetting personal sorrows. +There is that wonderful, that adorable secretary of your--Julia. What +should you say to me, my friend Maraton, if I were indeed to rob you of +her? For once I am in earnest." + +Maraton started for a moment. The idea at first was ludicrous. + +"I suppose," he admitted, "I should reconcile myself to the inevitable. +Times are going to be different. I dare say that Aaron will be the only +secretary I shall need. But will she go? Remember, she is a woman of +the people. I think that she will never settle down, even with your +splendid work to control. She is less a poet than a humanitarian." + +"What am I, man," Selingman retorted, striking himself on the chest, +"but a humanitarian? Listen to the wonderful proof--it is not a +secretary I require; it is a wife!" + +Maraton was staggered. + +"Have you told her?" + +"What is the use?" Selingman growled. "She is yours, body and soul. +You have but to lift up your finger, and she would follow you to the end +of the world. I don't idealize women, you know, Maraton, and virtue +isn't a fetish with me. But I know that girl. If you hold out your +hands, she is yours, but if you withhold them, she is the most virginal +creature that ever breathed." + +"She is a splendid character," Maraton said softly. + +"Why don't you marry her yourself?" Selingman asked abruptly. "How can +you look at her, hear her speak, watch her, without wanting to marry +her? What are you made of?" + +Maraton sighed. + +"I am one of the victims, I suppose, of that curious instinct of +selection. I care for some one else; I have cared for some one else +ever since the first night I set foot in England." + +"Then I'll get her," Selingman declared. "In time I'll get her." + +They all dined together at the little restaurant on the borders of Soho. +Selingman was the giver of the feast and his spirits were both wonderful +and infectious. The roar of London was recommencing. Newspapers were +being sold on the streets. The strange cruisers seemed mysteriously to +have disappeared from the Atlantic. The fleet, imprisoned no longer, +was on its way to the North Sea. There was none of the foolish, +over-exuberant rejoicing of bibulous jingoism, but a genuine, deep +spirit of thankfulness abroad. Men and women were glad but thoughtful. +There were new times to come, great promises had been made. There were +rumours everywhere of a new political Party. "We pause to-night," +Selingman declared, "at the end of the first chapter. Almost I am +tempted to linger in this wonderful country--at any rate until the +headlines of the next are in type. You go down to the House tonight?" +"At nine o'clock," Maraton replied, glancing at the clock. + +"Will they remember," Selingman continued thoughtfully, "that you were +the Samson who pulled down the pillars, or will they merely hail you as +the deliverer? Will they think of that ghostly ride of yours on the +locomotive, I wonder, when you tore screaming through the darkness, with +the risk of a buffer on the line at every mile; stepped from the engine, +grimy, with your breath sucked out of--you by the wind, and the roar of +the locomotive still throbbing in your ears--stepped out to deliver your +message to the waiting throngs? Magnificent! A subject worthy of me +and my prose! I shall write of it, Maraton. I shall sing the glory of +it in verse or script, when your fame as a politician of the moment has +passed. You will live because of the garland that I shall weave." + +Maraton sipped his wine thoughtfully. + +"But for your overweening humility, Selingman," he began-- + +Selingman struck the table with his fist. + +"It is a night for rejoicings, this," he thundered. "I will not have my +weaknesses exposed. Let us, for to-night, at any rate, see the best in +each other. Glance, for instance, at Miss Julia. Admire the exquisite +pink of my carnations which she has condescended to wear; see how well +they become her." + +"I feel like a flower shop," Julia laughed. + +"And you look like the spirit of the flowers herself," Selingman +declared, "the wonderful Power on the other side of the sun, who draws +them out of the ground and touches their petals with colour, shakes +perfume into their blossoms and makes this England of yours, in +springtime, like a beautiful, sweet-smelling carpet." + +"Don't listen to him, Julia," Maraton warned her. "It was only a month +ago that he told me that no civilised man should live in this country +because of the women and the beer." + +"A man changes," Selingman insisted fiercely. "Your beer I will never +drink, but Miss Julia knows that she hasn't in the world a slave so +abject as I." + +Maraton rose to his feet. + +"I must go," he announced. "I have to talk with Mr. Foley for a few +minutes. You had better come with me, Aaron. Selingman will see Julia +back." + +They watched him depart. Julia sighed as he passed through the door. + +"I can read your thoughts," Selingman said quickly. "You are feeling, +are you not, that to-night his leaving us has in it something +allegorical. He was made for the storms of life, to fight in them and +rejoice in them, and Fate has taken him by the hand and is leading him +now towards the quieter places." + +"It is not his choice," Julia murmured. "It is destiny." + +"Can't you look a little way into the future?" Selingman continued, +peering through half-closed eyes into his wine glass. "He represents +the only possible link between the only possible political party of this +country and the people. He will win for them in twelve months what they +might have waited for through many weary years. He will sit in the high +places. History will speak well of him. I will wager you half a dozen +pairs of gloves that within a week the _Daily Oracle_ will call him the +modern Rienzi. And yet, with the end of the struggle, with the end of +the fierce fighting, comes something--what is it?--disappointment? We +have no right to be disappointed, and yet, somehow, one feels that it is +the cold and the storm and the wind which keep the best in us--the +fighting best--alive." + +Julia's eyes were soft, for a moment, with tears. She, too, was +following him a little way into the future. + +"They will make a politician of him," she sighed. "So much the better +for politics. But there is one thing which I do not think that he will +ever forget. So long as he lives he will be a people's man." + +Selingman became curiously silent. Soon he paid the bill. + +"Will you put me in a cab?" she asked him outside. He shook his head. + +"I shall ride home with you." + +"It is rather a long way," she reminded him. "I am down at my old rooms +again. The house in Russell Square is full of workmen, after the fire." +"It does not matter how far," he said simply. + +His fit of silence continued. When at last they arrived at their +destination, she held out her hand. Again he shook his head. + +"I am coming in," he announced. + +She hesitated. + +"My rooms are very tiny." + +"I am coming in," he repeated. + +He followed her up the stairs. Her little sitting-room was in darkness. +She struck a match and lit the lamp. She would have pulled down the +blind, but he checked her. + +"No," he objected, "let us stand and look down together upon this +wilderness. So!" + +They were high up and they looked upon a treeless waste--rows of houses, +tall factories, the line of the river beyond, the murky glow westwards. + +"Here I can talk to you," he said. "Here it is silent. Soon I go back +to my life and my life's work. You, Julia, must go with me." + +She drew a little away from him, speechless with a queer sort of +surprise, and a little indignant. He held her wrist firmly. + +"I am a man who has written much of love," he continued, "of love and +life and all the tangled skein of emotions which make of it a complex +thing. And yet so few of us know what love is, so few of us know what +companionship is, so few of us know the world in which those others +dwell. You have looked at me with your great eyes, Julia, and at first +you saw nothing but a fat, plain old man, with plenty of conceit and a +humour for idle speeches. And today you think a little differently, and +as the days go on you will think more differently still, for I am going +to take you with me, Julia, and I am going to keep you with me, and I am +going to keep the light in your eyes and the laughter at your lips, in +the only way that counts. You will sit with me in my study, you shall +see my work come and hear it grow. I shall take you into the world +where the music is born, and your eyes will be closed there, and you +will only know that there is another soul there who is your guide, and +in whom you trust, and for whom you have a strange feeling. That is how +love comes, Julia--the only sort of love which lasts. It isn't born in +this land, it doesn't even flourish in this universe. If you don't come +up in the clouds to find it, it isn't the sort that lasts. You are +going to find it with me, dear." + +She had begun to tremble a little, the tears were in her eyes. + +"Oh, I know!" he faltered, with a break in his own voice. "But you'll +leave your sorrows behind in my world." + + +It was midnight when Maraton left the House. He came out with Mr. +Foley, and they stood for a moment at the entrance. An electric coupe +rolled swiftly up. + +"You must come home with me for a minute or two, Maraton," Mr. Foley +urged. "It is on your way." + +The coupe, however, was already occupied. Elisabeth leaned out of the +window. She held the door open. + +"I am going to take Mr. Maraton back with me," she insisted. "The car +is there for you, uncle." + +Mr. Foley smiled. + +"Quite right," he assented. "Get in, Maraton. I shall be home before +you." + +Maraton obeyed, and they glided out of the Palace yard. + +"I was there all the time," Elisabeth told him quietly. "I heard +everything. I was so glad, so proud. Even your Labour Members had to +come and shake hands with you." + +"I don't think Mr. Dale liked it," he remarked, smiling. "They are not +bad fellows at heart, but they've got the poison in their systems which +seems, somehow or other, to become part of the equipment of the +politician--self-interest, over-egotism, contraction of interest. It +makes one almost afraid." + +She leaned a little towards him. + +"You will not fear anything," she whispered confidently. "To-night, as +I looked down, it seemed to me that as a looker-on I saw more, perhaps, +of the real significance of it all than you who were there. It is a new +force, you know, which has come into politics, a new Party. I suppose +historians will call to-night, the fusion of Parties which is going to +happen, an extraordinary triumph for Mr. Foley. Perhaps he deserves +it--in my heart I believe that he does--but not in the way they would +try to make out." + +"His heart is right," Maraton declared. "He has wide sympathies and +splendid understanding." + +"It is a new chapter which begins to-night," she repeated. "You will +have many disappointments to face, both of you." + +"But isn't it a glorious fight!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "A +great cause at one's back, a future filled with magnificent +possibilities! Lady Elisabeth," he went on, "you can't imagine what +this hour means. Sometimes I have had moments of horrible depression. +It is so easy to feel the sorrows of the people in one's heart, so easy +to stir them into a passionate apprehension of their position. And then +comes the dull, sickening doubt whether, after all, it had not been +better to leave them as they were. Of what use are words--that is what +I have felt so often. And now there has come the power to do great +things for them. Life couldn't hold anything more splendid." + +Her hand touched his. She had withdrawn her glove. + +"You will let me help?" she begged. + +He turned towards her then, and she saw the light in his face for which +she had longed. With a little cry her head sank upon his shoulder, and +his arms closed around her. + +"I am almost jealous of the people," she murmured. "Only I want you to +teach me to love them and feel for them as you do. I want to feel that +the same thing in our lives is bringing us always closer together." + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A People's Man, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PEOPLE'S MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 17272.txt or 17272.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/7/17272/ + +Produced by MRK + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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