"Thanks," he said lightly. "So you have no anxieties about to-night!"
"None," said Dick.
"You think the men will come to heel?"
"They haven't broken away yet," Dick reminded him curtly.
Saltash raised his eyes suddenly. "When they do--what then?" he said.
"What do you mean?" said Dick.
He laughed mischievously. "I suppose you know that you are credited with
being at their head?"
Dick, in the act of striking a match, paused. He looked at the other man
with raised brows. "At their head?" he questioned. "What do you mean?"
Without the smallest change of countenance Saltash enlightened him. "As
strike-leader, agitator, and so on. You have achieved an enviable
reputation by your philanthropy. Didn't you know?"
Dick struck the match with an absolutely steady hand, and held it to his
cigarette. "I did not," he said.
Saltash puffed at the cigarette, peering at him curiously through the
smoke. "Which may account for your failure to find Ivor Yardley," he
suggested after a moment.
"In what way?" said Dick.
Saltash straightened himself. "I imagine he is not a great believer
in--philanthropy," he said.
Dick's eyes shone with an ominous glitter.
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