“What I want to know, Greenwood, is this.  Will our people be willing to shut Hatton factory for the sake of—­freedom?"

“Yes, sir—­every man o’ them, I can’t say about the women.  No man can.  Bad or good, they generally want things to go on as they are.  If all’s well for them and their children, they doan’t care a snap for public rights or wrongs, except mebbe in their own parish.”

“Well, Jonathan, I am going to prepare, as far as I can, for the worst.  If Yorke goes too far, give him a set down and advise all our workers to try and save a little before the times come when there will be nothing to save.”

“Yes, sir.  That’s sensible, and one here and there may happen listen to me.”

Then John began to consider his own affairs, for his married life had been an expensive one and Harry also a considerable drain on his everyday resources.  He was in the midst of this uncomfortable reckoning, when there was a strong decisive knock at the door.  He said, “Come in,” just as decisively and a tall, dark man entered—­a man who did not belong to cities and narrow doorways, but whom Nature intended for the hills and her wide unplanted places.  He was handsomely dressed and his long, lean, dark face had a singular attraction, so much so, that it made everything else of small importance.  It was a face containing the sum of human life and sorrow, its love, and despair, and victory; the face of a man that had been and always would be a match for Fate.

John knew him at once, either by remembrance or some divination of his personality, and he rose to meet him saying, “I think you are Ralph Lugur.  I am glad to see you.  Sit down, sir.”

“I wish that I had come on a more pleasant errand, John Hatton.  I am in trouble about my daughter and her husband.”

“What is wrong there?” and John asked the question a little coldly.

“You must go to London, and see what is wrong.  Harry is gambling.  Lucy makes no complaints, but I have eyes and ears.  I need no words.”

“Are you sure of what you are saying, Lugur?”

“I went and took him out of a gambling-house three days ago.”

“Thank you!  I will attend to the matter.”

“You have no time to lose.  If I told you your brother was in a burning house, what haste you would make to save him!  He is in still greater danger.  The first train you can get is the best train to take.”

“O Harry!  Harry!” cried John, as he rose and began to lock his desk and his safe.

“Harry loves and will obey you.  Make haste to help him before he begins to love the sin that is now his great temptation.”

“Do you know much of Harry?”

“I do and I love him.  I have kept watch over him for some months.  He is worth loving and worth saving.  Go at once to him.”

“Have you any opinion about the best means to be used in the future?”

“He must leave London and come to Hatton where he can be under your constant care.  Will you accept this charge?  I do not mind telling you that it is your duty.  These looms and spindles any clever spinner can direct right, but it takes a soul to save a soul.  You know that.”