"Come, Kilshaw, Puttock's a capitalist; he'll see Capital isn't wronged."
"Puttock is all very well in his way; but what do you say to Jewell and Norburn?"
"Jewell's an old-style Radical: he won't do you much harm. You hit the nail on the head when you mention Norburn. Norburn would be very pleased to run your factory as a State work-shop for two pound a week."
"And pickings," added Mr. Kilshaw, with scornful emphasis.
A third gentleman, who was sitting near in the
large bow-window of the Central Club, an elderly man, with short-clipped white hair and a pleasant face, joined in the talk.
"Norburn? Why, is that the fellow I tried? Is he in Medland's government?"
"That's the man, Sir John," answered Kilshaw; and Sir Robert added,
"You gave him three months for inciting to riot in the strike at the Collieries two years ago. He's made Minister of Public Works; I hear the Governor held out for a long while, but Medland insisted."
"And my works are to be Public Works, I suppose," grumbled Kilshaw, finding some comfort in this epigrammatic statement of the unwelcome prospect before him.