“Of course,” said Wharton, drily.  “However, neither she nor Raeburn are very happy just at this moment.  A horrible affair happened down there last night.  One of Lord Maxwell’s gamekeepers and a ‘helper,’ a lad of seventeen, were killed last night in a fight with poachers.  I only just heard the outlines of it before I came away, but I got a telegram just before going into congress, asking me to defend the man charged with the murder.”

A quick expression of repulsion and disgust crossed Bennett’s face.

“There have been a whole crop of such cases lately,” he said.  “How shall we ever escape from the curse of this game system?”

“We shan’t escape it,” said Wharton, quietly, knocking the end off his cigarette, “not in your lifetime or mine.  When we get more Radicals on the bench we shall lighten the sentences; but that will only exasperate the sporting class into finding new ways of protecting themselves.  Oh! the man will be hung—­that’s quite clear to me.  But it will be a good case—­from the public point of view—­will work up well—­”

He ran his hand through his curls, considering.

“Will work up admirably,” he added in a lower tone of voice, as though to himself, his eyes keen and brilliant as ever, in spite of the marks of sleeplessness and fatigue visible in the rest of the face, though only visible there since he had allowed himself the repose of his cigarette and arm-chair.

“Are yo’ comin’ to dine at the ‘Peterloo’ to-night, Mr. Wharton?” said Wilkins, as Wharton handed him a cup of coffee; “but of coorse you are—­part of yower duties, I suppose?”

While Molloy and Casey were deep in animated discussion of the great meeting of the afternoon he had been sitting silent against the edge of the table—­a short-bearded sombre figure, ready at any moment to make a grievance, to suspect a slight.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” said Wharton, bending forward and speaking in a tone of concern; “that was just what I was going to ask you all—­if you would make my excuses to-night?  I have been explaining to Bennett.  I have an important piece of business in the country—­a labourer has been getting into trouble for shooting a keeper; they have asked me to defend him.  The assizes come on in little more than a fortnight, worse luck! so that the time is short—­”

And he went on to explain that, by taking an evening train back to Widrington, he could get the following (Saturday) morning with the solicitor in charge of the case, and be back in Birmingham, thanks to the convenience of a new line lately opened, in time for the second meeting of the congress, which was fixed for the early afternoon.

He spoke with great cordiality and persuasiveness.  Among the men who surrounded him, his youth, good looks, and easy breeding shone out conspicuous.  In the opinion of Wilkins, indeed, who followed his every word and gesture, he was far too well dressed and too well educated.  A day would soon come when the labour movement would be able to show these young aristocrats the door.  Not yet, however.