“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.”