Then Mr. Pearson paused and cleared his throat.
Well!—that was the scheme. His principals believed that, when both it and the employers' determination to transfer their business to the Continent rather than be beaten by the men were made fully known to the owner of the Clarion, it must affect his point of view. Mr. Pearson was empowered to give him any details he might desire. Meanwhile—so confident were they in the reasonableness of the case that they even suggested that the owner of the Clarion himself should take part in the new Syndicate. On condition of his future co-operation—it being understood that the masters took their stand irrevocably on the award—the men at present responsible for the formation of the Syndicate proposed to allot Mr. Wharton ten Founder's Shares in the new undertaking.
Wharton, sitting alone, recalling these things, was conscious again of that start in every limb, that sudden rush of blood to the face, as though a lash had struck him.
For in a few seconds his mind took in the situation. Only the day before, a city acquaintance had said to him, "If you and your confounded paper were out of the way, and this thing could be placed properly on the market, there would be a boom in it at once. I am told that in twenty-four hours the Founder's Shares would be worth 2,000 l. apiece!"
There was a pause of silence. Then Wharton threw a queer dark look at the solicitor, and was conscious that his pulse was thumping.
"There can be no question I think, Mr. Pearson—between you and me—as to the nature of such a proposal as that!"
"My dear sir," Mr. Pearson had interrupted hastily, "let me, above all, ask you to take time—time enough, at any rate, to turn the matter well over in your mind. The interests of a great many people, besides yourself, are concerned. Don't give me an answer to-night; it is the last thing I desire. I have thrown out my suggestion. Consider it. To-morrow is Sunday. If you are disposed to carry it further, come and see me Monday morning—that's all. I will be at your service at any hour, and I can then give you a much more complete outline of the intentions of the Company. Now I really must go and look for Mrs. Pearson's carriage."
Wharton followed the great man half mechanically across the little room, his mind in a whirl of mingled rage and desire. Then suddenly he stopped his companion:
"Has George Denny anything to do with this proposal, Mr. Pearson?"
Mr. Pearson paused, with a little air of vague cogitation.