“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.