human
means, and Ernshaw is like a rock. Dale and Graveling and all the rest
have done what they could. Ernshaw remains outside. I thought that I
had won the Labour Party. It seems to me, when the trouble came, that
they represented nothing."

"They don't," Maraton agreed, "but Ernshaw represents the people, and I
represent Ernshaw. He was with me only a little time ago. There won't
be a Labour Party any longer. It will be a National Party, and you will
make it."

"I am an old man," Mr. Foley murmured slowly, but his eyes kindled as
he spoke.

They both laughed at him.

"Young enough to found a new Party," Maraton insisted, "young enough to
bring the country into safety once more."

The atmosphere seemed heavily charged with emotion. Elisabeth's eyes
were shining. She held out her hands to Maraton, and he kept them
reverently in his.

"To-night," he announced, "with Ernshaw's help I start for the north.
In a few hours we shall have freed the railway lines. I leave the Press
to you, Mr. Foley. I shall go on to the mines."

"And I?" Lady Elisabeth asked. "What is my share? Is there nothing I
can do?"

Their eyes met for one long moment.

"When I return," he said quietly, "I will tell you."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

From town to town, travelling for the most part on the platform of an
engine, Maraton sped on his splendid mission. It was Ernshaw himself
who drove, with the help of an assistant, but as they passed from place
to place the veto was lifted. The men in some districts were a little
querulous, but at Maraton's coming they were subdued. It was peace, a
peace how splendid they were soon to know. By mid-day, trains laden
with coal were rushing to several of the Channel ports. Maraton found
his task with the miners more difficult, and yet in a way his triumph
here was still more complete. He travelled down the backbone of
England, preaching peace where war had reigned, promising great things
in the name of the new Government. Although he had been absent barely
forty-eight hours, it was a new London into which he travelled on his
return. The streets were crowded once more with taxicabs, the evening
papers were being sold, the shops were all open, the policemen were once
more in the streets. Selingman, who had scarcely once left Maraton's
side, gazed about him with wonder.

"It is a miracle, this," he declared. "There is no aftermath."

"The people are waiting," Maraton said. "We have given them serious