giant, "this is Mr Lennard as his lordship telegraphed
about to-day. I daresay yo can give him a cup of tay and see to t' fire
i' t' sittin'-room. I believe he's come to have a bit of talk wi' me
about summat important from what his lordship said."

"I'm pleased to see you, Mr Lennard," said the pleasant voice, and as he
shook hands he found himself looking into the dark, soft eyes of a
regular "Lancashire witch," for Lizzie Bowcock had left despair in the
heart of many a Lancashire lad when she had put her little hand into big
Tom's huge fist and told him that she'd have him for her man and no one
else.

She left the room for a few minutes to see to the sitting-room fire, and
Lennard turned to his host and said:

"Mr Bowcock, I have come to see you on a matter which will need a good
deal of explanation. It will take quite a couple of hours to put the
whole thing before you, so if you have any other engagements for
to-night, no doubt you can take a day off to-morrow--in fact, as the pit
will have to stop working--"

"T' 'pit stop working, Mr Lennard!" exclaimed the manager. "Yo' dunno
say so. Is that his lordship's orders? Why, what's up?"

"I will explain everything, Mr Bowcock," replied Lennard, "only, for her
own sake, your wife must know nothing at present. The only question is,
shall we have a talk to-night or not?"

"If it's anything that's bad," replied the big miner with a deeper note
in his voice, "I'd soonest hear it now. Mysteries don't get any t'
better for keepin'. Besides, it'll give me time to sleep on't; and
that's not a bad thing to do when yo've a big job to handle."

Mrs Bowcock came back as he said this, and Lennard had his cup of tea,
and they of course talked about the war. Naturally, the big miner and
his pretty little wife were the most interested people in Lancashire
just then, for to no one else in the County Palatine had been given the
honour of hearing the story of the great battle off the Isle of Wight
from the lips of one who had been through it on board the now famous
_Ithuriel_.

But when Tom Bowcock came out of the little sitting-room three hours
later, after Lennard had told him of the approaching doom of the world
and had explained to him how his pit-shaft was to be used as a means of
averting it--should that, after all, prove to be possible--his interest
in the war had diminished very considerably, for he had already come to
see clearly that this was undeniably a case of the