Confidence had never been lacking in either of the two, but now the sense of power and success had increased it, and had also imposed a certain quietness and gravity which impressed people. Here, at any rate, were two men of affairs, men whose names were beginning to be known throughout the land, and Mr. Hamlyn's manner of preoccupation and thought was only natural after all in one who (as his son would remark to Protestant visitors) "practically held the fortunes of the Church in his hands, and was destroying the Catholic wolves with the sword of Protestant Truth."

The two men took off their overcoats and hung them up. Then Mr. Hamlyn, from mere force of old habit, pulled at his cuffs—in order to lay them aside during business hours. Finding that he could not withdraw them, for increasing position and emolument had seemed to necessitate the wearing of a white shirt, he sat down with a half sigh for the freedom and comfort of an earlier day and began to open the large pile of correspondence on the table before him.

"We'll take the cash first, Sam," he said, pulling a small paper-knife from a drawer.

Sam opened a note-book in which the first rough draughts of matter relating to this most important subject were entered, preparatory to being copied out into one of the ledgers in the outer office.

Hamlyn began to slit up the letters with a practised hand. Those that contained the sinews of war he read with a running comment, others were placed in a basket for further consideration.

"'Well-wisher,' five shillings; 'Well-wisher,' £2 0 0, by cheque, Sam. 'Ethel and her sisters,' ten and six—small family that, I should think! 'Protestant,' five pounds—a note, Sam, take the number. It's curious that 'Protestant' always gives most. Yesterday seven 'Protestants' totalled up to fourteen, twelve, six, while five 'Well-wishers' worked out at slightly under three shillings a head. What's this? Ah! cheque for a guinea and a letter on crested paper! Enter up the address and make a note to send half a dozen Bloody Marys, one Miss Pritchett's Escape, and a few Pay the Devils. During the last week or two, the upper classes have been rallying to the flag. They're the people. I'll send this woman the ten-guinea subscription form and ask her to be one of the vice-presidents. Listen here:

Margravine House,
Leicester

Lady Johnson begs to enclose a cheque for one guinea to aid Mr. Hamlyn in his splendid Crusade against the Ritualists. She would be glad to hear full details of the "Luther League" and its objects. She wonders why Mr. Hamlyn has confined his protests against Romanism in the guise of English Churchmanship to the London district, and would point out that in her own neighbourhood there is a hot-bed of Ritualism which should be exposed."

Sam went to the book shelf and took down a Peerage. "She's the wife of a knight," he said, "one of the city knights."

"Probably very well off," said Mr. Hamlyn. "We'll nail her for the Cause! See that the books go off at once, and I'll write her a personal letter during the day."

He rubbed his hands together with a movement of inexpressible satisfaction. His keen face was lighted up with the pleasures of power and success.