“I have been asked—­er—­er—­” What a conceited manner the fellow had!—­“to get some conversation with you, Mr. Wharton, on the subject of the Damesley strike.  You give me leave?”

Whereupon, in less than ten minutes, the speaker had executed an important commission, and, in offering Wharton a bribe of the most bare-faced kind, had also found time for supplying him with a number of the most delicate and sufficient excuses for taking it.

The masters, in fact, sent an embassy.  They fully admitted the power of the Clarion and its owner.  No doubt, it would not be possible for the paper to keep up its strike fund indefinitely; there were perhaps already signs of slackening.  Still it had been maintained for a considerable time; and so long as it was reckoned on, in spite of the wide-spread misery and suffering now prevailing, the men would probably hold out.

In these circumstances, the principal employers concerned had thought it best to approach so formidable an opponent and to put before him information which might possibly modify his action.  They had authorised Mr. Pearson to give him a full account of what was proposed in the way of re-organisation of the trade, including the probable advantages which the work-people themselves would be likely to reap from it in the future.

Mr. Pearson ran in a few sentences through the points of the scheme.  Wharton stood about a yard away from him, his hands in his pockets, a little pale and frowning—­looking intently at the speaker.

Then Mr. Pearson paused and cleared his throat.

Well!—­that was the scheme.  His principals believed that, when both it and the employers’ determination to transfer their business to the Continent rather than be beaten by the men were made fully known to the owner of the Clarion, it must affect his point of view.  Mr. Pearson was empowered to give him any details he might desire.  Meanwhile—­so confident were they in the reasonableness of the case that they even suggested that the owner of the Clarion himself should take part in the new Syndicate.  On condition of his future co-operation—­it being understood that the masters took their stand irrevocably on the award—­the men at present responsible for the formation of the Syndicate proposed to allot Mr. Wharton ten Founder’s Shares in the new undertaking.

Wharton, sitting alone, recalling these things, was conscious again of that start in every limb, that sudden rush of blood to the face, as though a lash had struck him.

For in a few seconds his mind took in the situation.  Only the day before, a city acquaintance had said to him, “If you and your confounded paper were out of the way, and this thing could be placed properly on the market, there would be a boom in it at once.  I am told that in twenty-four hours the Founder’s Shares would be worth 2,000 l. apiece!”

There was a pause of silence.  Then Wharton threw a queer dark look at the solicitor, and was conscious that his pulse was thumping.