"I killed a man once, Mr. Beldeman," he said, "who threatened me."
"You will not kill me," Mr. Beldeman declared, with gentle confidence in his tone.
"If I had known," Maraton continued softly, "I'd have wrung your neck at
Manchester."
"Quite easy, I should say," Mr. Beldeman agreed. "You look strong. Without a doubt I could make you desperate. Better be reasonable. My people want the railway strike, the coal strike, and the iron strike—want them both within a month. Come, what are you afraid of? Stick to your colours, Mr. Maraton. Wasn't it in the North. American Review you declared that a war and conquest were the inevitable prelude of social reform in this country?"
"Did I say that?" Maraton asked.
"You did. Now you are here, you are afraid. Never mind, war and conquest are to come. We give you a month in which to deliver your message. You have, I believe, two large meetings to address before that date. Make your pronouncement and all will be well. The million is yours for the people."
"A sort of gigantic blackmail," Maraton remarked drily.
"You can call it what you like. If you have conditions to make, I am prepared to listen. I do not insult you by offering—"
Maraton flung open the door a little noisily.
"That will do, Mr. Beldeman," he said. "I congratulate you upon the manner in which you have conducted this interview. I presume I shall see you again one day before the month is up?"