"Is this true?" Peter Dale demanded.
Maraton inclined his head.
"The writer," he said, "a man named Beldeman, I am sure has been singularly moderate in his statements. I have been expecting the article to appear for some time."
They were all of them apparently afflicted with a curious combination of emotions. They were angry, and yet—with the exception of Graveling—there was beneath their anger some evidence of that curious respect for wealth prevalent amongst their order. They looked at Maraton with a new interest.
"A millionaire!" Peter Dale exclaimed impressively. "You admit it! You—a Socialist—a people's man, as you've called yourself! And never a word to one of us! Never a copper of your money to the Party! I repeat it—not one copper have we seen!"
The man's cheeks were flushed with anger, his brows lowered. Something of his indignation was reflected in the faces of all of them—momentarily a queer sort of cupidity seemed to have stolen into their expressions. Maraton shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"Why should I subscribe to your Party funds?" he asked calmly. "Some of you do good work, no doubt, and yet there is no such destroyer of good work as money. Work, individual effort, unselfish enthusiasm, are the torches which should light on your cause. Money would only serve the purpose of a slow poison amongst you."
"Prattle!" Abraham Weavel muttered.
"Rot!" Peter Dale agreed. "Just another question, Mr. Maraton: Why have you kept this secret from us?"
"I will make a statement," Maraton replied coolly. "Perhaps it will save needless questions. My money is derived from oil springs. I prospected for them myself, and I have had to fight for them. It was in wilder days than you know of here. I have a younger brother, or rather a half-brother, whom I was sorry to see over here the other day, who is my partner. My average profits are twenty-eight thousand pounds a year. Ten thousand pounds goes to the support of a children's home in New York; the remainder is distributed in other directions amongst institutions for the rescue of children. Five thousand a year I keep for myself."