“Politics over here,” he said, “are a simpler game than in the States, but there’s one class of person we’ve got to do without, and that’s the Independent Member.  You can’t do anything over here except by sticking together.  If you’ll come under the standard, you’re welcome.  I’ll say nothing about Parliament for a time, but we’ll find you all the talking you want and see that you’re well paid for it.”

Looking past the speaker’s hard, earnest face, Maraton was conscious of the scorn flashing in Julia’s I eyes.  Intuitively he felt her appreciation of the coarse selfishness of these men, terrified at his gifts, resisting stubbornly the unwelcome conviction of a new mastership.  Her lips even moved, as though she were signalling to him.  At that moment, indeed, he would have been glad of her guidance.  He needed the machinery which these men controlled, distasteful though their ideals and methods might be to him.

“Mr. Dale,” he declared, “I am a people’s man.  I cannot enroll myself in your party because I fancy that in many ways we should think differently.  But with so many objects in common, it is surely possible for us to be friends?”

Ross leaned suddenly forward in his chair, his grey face passion-stirred, the sweat upon his forehead.

“Aye!” he cried, “it’s the greatest friend or the bitterest enemy of the people you’ll be.  You’ll do more with that tongue of yours than a library of books or a century of Parliament, and may it wither in your mouth if they buy you—­those others!  God meant you for a people’s man.  It’ll be hell for you and for us if they buy you away.”

Maraton changed his position a little.  He was facing them all now.

“My friends,” he said, “that is one thing of which you need have no fear.  Our methods may be different, we may work in different ways, but we shall work towards the same goal.  Remember this, and remember always that whether we fight under the same banner or not, I have told it to you solemnly and from the bottom of my heart.  I am a people’s man!”

He turned towards the door and laid his hand upon Aaron’s shoulder.  Julia, too, rose and followed him.

“I think,” he added, “that the people will have cleared off by now.  I am going to try and get back to the hotel.  I have messages to send away, and an early train to catch in the morning.”

They were passing out of the room almost in silence, but Henneford struck the table with his fist.

“Come,” he exclaimed, “we seem in a queer humour to-night!  Don’t let Mr. Maraton think too hardly of us.  Wherever his place may be in the future, he’s done us a grand service to-night, and don’t let’s forget it.  He’s waked these people up as none other of us could have done.  He’s started this strike in such a fashion as none other of us could.  Don’t let’s forget to be grateful.  The education and the oratory isn’t all on the other side now.  If we don’t see you again to-night, Mr. Maraton, or before you leave for London, here’s my thanks, for one, for to-night’s work, and I’ll lay odds that the others are with me.”