"You invited us," Peter Dale remarked deliberately, "and here we are.
As to what good's likely to come of our meeting, that's another matter.
There's no denying the fact that we've not been able to work together up
till now, and whether we shall in the future is by no means clear."

"I am sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Dale," Maraton declared. "I only
hope that before you go you will have changed your mind."

"Not in the least likely, that I can see," Peter Dale retorted. "For my
part, I can't reckon up what you want with us. You've gone into the
House on your own and you've chosen to sit in a place by yourself.
You've tried your best to manage things according to your own way of
thinking, without us. Now, all of a sudden, you invite us here. I
wonder whether this has anything to do with it."

With some deliberation, Peter Dale produced from his pocket a letter,
which he smoothed out upon the table before him. He had the air of a
man who prepares a bombshell. Maraton stretched out his hand toward it.

"Is that for me?" he asked.

Peter Dale kept his fingers upon it.

"Its contents concern you," he announced. "I'll read it, if you'll be
so good as to listen. Came as a bit of a shock to us, I must confess."

"Anonymous?" Maraton murmured.

"If its contents are untrue," Peter Dale said, "you will be able to
contradict them. With your kind permission, then. Listen, everybody:

"'Dear Sir:

"'The following facts concerning a recent addition to the ranks of your
Party should, I think, be of some interest to you.

"'The proper name of Mr. Maraton is Mr. Maraton Lawes.

"'Mr. Maraton Lawes and a younger brother were once the possessors of
the world-famous Lawes Oil Springs, and are now the principal
shareholders in the Lawes Oil Company.

"'The person in question is a millionaire.

"'A Socialist millionaire who conceals the fact of his wealth and keeps
his purse closed, is a person, I think, open to criticism.

"'A sketch of Mr. Maraton Lawes' career will shortly appear in an
evening paper.'"

Maraton listened without change of countenance. All eyes were turned
upon him.

"Well?" he enquired nonchalantly.

"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 combina