A rally began in the Liberal host, which had felt itself already beaten.
Marsham's meetings improved, the _Herald_ article was apparently
forgotten.

The anxiety now lay chiefly in the mining villages, where nothing seemed
to affect the hostile attitude of the inhabitants. A long series of
causes had led up to it, to be summed up perhaps in one--the harsh and
domineering temper of the man who had for years managed the three Tallyn
collieries, and who held Lady Lucy and her co-shareholders in the hollow
of his hand. Lady Lucy, whose curious obstinacy had been roused, would
not dismiss him, and nothing less than his summary dismissal would have
appeased the dull hatred of six hundred miners.

Marsham had indeed attempted to put through a number of minor reforms,
but the effect on the temper of the district had been, in the end,
little or nothing. The colliers, who had once fervently supported him,
thought of him now, either as a fine gentleman profiting pecuniarily by
the ill deeds of a tyrant, or as sheltering behind his mother's skirts;
the Socialist Vicar of Beechcote thundered against him; and for some
time every meeting of his in the colliery villages was broken up. But in
the more hopeful days of the last week, when the canvassing returns,
together with Marsham's astonishing energy and brilliant speaking, had
revived the failing heart of the party, it was resolved to hold a final
meeting, on the night before the poll, at Hartingfield-on-the-Wold, the
largest of the mining villages.

* * * * *

Marsham left Dunscombe for Hartingfield about six o'clock on an August
evening, driving the coach, with its superb team of horses, which had
become by now so familiar an object in the division. He was to return in
time to make the final speech in the concluding Liberal meeting of the
campaign, which was to be held that night, with the help of some
half-dozen other members of Parliament, in the Dunscombe Corn Exchange.

A body of his supporters, gathered in the market-place, cheered him
madly as the coach set off. Marsham stopped the horses for a minute
outside the office of the local paper. The weekly issue came out that
afternoon. It was handed up to him, and the coach rattled on.

McEwart, who was sitting beside him, opened it, and presently gave a low
involuntary whistle of dismay. Marsham looked round.

"What's the matter?"

McEwart would have gladly flung the paper away. But look