“Besides,” I continued, “wouldn’t it be quite enough to confiscate their money?”

“Well, I’d send them all to penal servitude, anyhow,” he said, “and I’d confiscate their funds as well.”

“The policy is daring and full of difficulty,” I replied, “but I do not say that it is wholly outside the extreme rights of the republic.  But you must remember that though the facts of property have become quite fantastic, yet the sentiment of property still exists.  These coal-owners, though they have not earned the mines, though they could not work the mines, do quite honestly feel that they own the mines.  Hence your suggestion of shooting them down, or even of confiscating their property, raises very—­”

“What do you mean?” asked the man with the cigar, with a bullying eye.  “Who yer talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you were talking about,” I replied; “as you put it so perfectly, about the handful of obstinate fellows who are standing between the country and the coal.  I mean the men who are selling their own coal for fancy prices, and who, as long as they can get those prices, care as little for national starvation as most merchant princes and pirates have cared for the provinces that were wasted or the peoples that were enslaved just before their ships came home.  But though I am a bit of a revolutionist myself, I cannot quite go with you in the extreme violence you suggest.  You say—­”

“I say,” he cried, bursting through my speech with a really splendid energy like that of some noble beast, “I say I’d take all these blasted miners and—­”

I had risen slowly to my feet, for I was profoundly moved; and I stood staring at that mental monster.

“Oh,” I said, “so it is the miners who are all to be sent to penal servitude, so that we may get more coal.  It is the miners who are to be shot dead, every man Jack of them; for if once they are all shot dead they will start mining again...You must forgive me, sir; I know I seem somewhat moved.  The fact is, I have just found something.  Something I have been looking for four years.”

“Well,” he asked, with no unfriendly stare, “and what have you found?”

“No,” I answered, shaking my head sadly, “I do not think it would be quite kind to tell you what I have found.”

He had a hundred virtues, including the capital virtue of good humour, and we had no difficulty in changing the subject and forgetting the disagreement.  He talked about society, his town friends and his country sports, and I discovered in the course of it that he was a county magistrate, a Member of Parliament, and a director of several important companies.  He was also that other thing, which I did not tell him.