"I will not tell you how," replied Ned. "But I can make you win it.

Perhaps there's not another man but myself that can. And you shall, too, if you'll promise to do your best for me with Mary. Is it a bargain?"

Mr. Bolitho did not speak. For the moment he was under great excitement. The fear that he would lose the seat had entered his heart, and, as he had more than once said, the desire to win in everything he undertook was a kind of pa.s.sion with him. He would do a great deal, and give a great deal, to win this election, not because he thought it would add much either to his fame or to his position, but because the eagerness to be conqueror was almost like a disease.

"Come, now," repeated Ned. "Is it a bargain? If I win you this election, will you do your best for me with Mary. Of course, I don't ask you to force her--she's not a girl to be forced--but will you do your best? Mind you, I love her like my own life, and I'll devote every power I have to make her happy!"

"I'll say this," said Mr. Bolitho, still labouring under great excitement, "I'll not oppose you, and if I can make the way easy for you, I will--there!"

"Very well," cried Ned, with flashing eyes. "That's a bargain, then.

You may regard the seat as safe!"

Within a week from that time there were strange rumours in Brunford.

It was said that the financial position of Stepaside and Preston was not safe. They were only rumours at first, and people paid little attention to them, but they grew in volume, grew in directness of statement. Five days before the election Preston came to Paul with a white face. He looked as though he had spent a sleepless night. "Look here, Paul," he said. "You must give up this political business!"

"Give it up!" said Paul. "I cannot. We are only five days from polling, and I cannot spare a minute for anything else."

"I tell you you must give it up!" cried Preston. "And even now you must come and give me two hours right away!"

Paul shook his head. "I've got to meet my committees, my canva.s.sers.

I wouldn't lose this fight now for a thousand pounds."

"It means more than the loss of a thousand pounds, it means the loss of everything!"

"Everything!"

"Yes, everything. Look here, Paul, you know we've kept ourselves hard, and we've overdrawn at the bank, because we felt sure our stuff was going up. Well, it hasn't gone up. There's been a sudden drop in it!

Look here." And he showed him that morning's newspaper. Paul looked at his watch. "I must go to these committee meetings," he said.

"But you can't," urged Preston. "I am not strong enough to deal with these things. Only you can get us out of this hole, and I doubt whether it's not too late even now! There's something at the bottom of this, Paul, and you must go into it. There's an enemy in the camp somewhere. There's no reason why our stuff should go down, the demand for it is greater than ever, but somebody's underselling us. Why, it can't be manufactured at the price mentioned there." And he pointed to the paper.

"Very well," said Paul, "you go round to the committee-rooms and tell them I can't be there to-day."

He went towards his office with a great fear in his heart. Before the day was out he realised the truth of Preston's words. He found that, unknown to them, someone else had gained the secret of the special stuff that they had been manufacturing. That, unknown to them, a large amount of it had been placed upon the market, and placed upon it at such a price that even if they sold every piece they manufactured they would have to do so at a very great loss. Indeed, it seemed to him as though ruin stared him in the face! He hurried from Brunford to Manchester, then back again--he went from mill to mill, and had various interviews with the most important people in the town, and everywhere he was met with the same difficulty.

Still, he would not give up the political fight. More than money--honour, life were at stake, and he must carry the thing through.

Three days before the election every voter in the town received, not merely their usual election literature, but an anonymous circular. It made no statements, but asked a series of questions concerning the financial obligations of Messrs. Stepaside and Preston. It showed the most minute knowledge of all Paul's liabilities, of the work he had undertaken, of the position in which he stood. Before the day was out there was not a voter in Brunford but who had read and discussed the circular which had been sent. No libellous statement had been made, and yet a hundred things had been suggested--inability, carelessness, ignorance, fraud, chicanery had all been hinted at, and hinted at cleverly. And yet no word of libel had been used, only the sting of the circular lay in the tail, and it was contained in these words: "Stepaside is the man that controls Stepaside and Preston. Is he the man whom we can trust to represent Brunford?"

A meeting of the general committee was called next night. If anything could be done, it must be done quickly. No one knew who had issued this circular--the name of the printer was not there. It had come by post from London. Who had sent it no one could tell. But here was the fact--its contents were of the most d.a.m.ning nature. It hinted that Paul was on the verge of bankruptcy, and that he owed his position to wild speculation, if not to fraudulent dealings. Paul's face was pale when he met the committee. "I want to face this matter fairly, gentlemen," he said. "You know that it was under pressure that I consented to fight for the seat, and to represent your interests. I did so in good faith. I believed my business was on a sound basis; nevertheless, many things in the circular are true." He then went on to tell how he stood commercially. He described his position in terms with which his hearers were familiar, but which I need not try and reproduce here. Indeed, it will be well that I should not, because the matter is still discussed in the town of Brunford. But he had no difficulty in convincing all present that he had acted honourably, and that an enemy had been at work. Still, what was he to do? He could not deny the statements made, and it was, doubtless, a fact that he stood on the verge of ruin. His supporters, moreover, were mainly of the working cla.s.s, and the rich men, the employers, were supporters of Mr. Bolitho. Besides, as was natural, the bank which had backed him was anxious concerning the whole matter.

"The question is," said Paul, "what do you wish me to do? Shall I resign, now at the eleventh hour? If I do, it will be a sign of weakness. It will be a confession that every word in this circular is true. It will proclaim the fact that I am afraid to face the future."

"Can'st a face the future, Paul?" asked one.

"I believe I can," he said, "and yet it is so uncertain that I feel I must place myself in your hands."

"And let t'other side beat us?" cried an old weaver. "Nay, nay, Paul.

We mun fight to the end!"

This was unanimously agreed upon, but Paul knew that a deadly blow had been struck, struck by an unseen hand, and in such a way that he had no means of parrying it. He knew, too, that nothing was so fickle as popular favour. A fortnight before, a week before, he felt sure of a clear thousand majority, but he knew that there were thousands in Brunford who would be influenced by what they had been discussing, and would as likely as not turn against him. Still, now that his committee had resolved to fight to the end, he determined he would not fail them, and during the next few days he threw himself into the fray with renewed ardour. He seemed to do ten men's work, and although the clouds hung heavily over his head, he roused his meetings to tremendous enthusiasm. At factory gates, at crossroads, in the market square and in the public halls, he proclaimed his views, and did his best to answer the thousand insulting queries which were constantly flung at him. But he fought as one who despaired. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, and even although there was ever a ring of defiance in his voice, there was never a note of victory.

At length the polling-day came, and he watched the course of events eagerly. Up to now he had never once come into personal contact with Mr. Bolitho. Perhaps he had studiously avoided meeting his opponent, and certainly Mr. Bolitho had not been anxious to meet him. They had pa.s.sed each other in the streets, but neither had taken notice of the other, and Paul had never once made reference to the treatment he had received at the barrister's hands years before. Let this be said, too, as far as Mr. Bolitho was concerned, he had never, at any of his meetings, referred to the circular which had created such commotion.

Whether he had kept silent as a matter of policy, or because he felt it would have been striking below the belt to do so, I cannot say, but certain it is that neither in public nor in private had he ever been known to pa.s.s any opinion on the crisis through which Paul was pa.s.sing.

The polling booths closed at eight o'clock on the fourteenth of December, and then crowds moved towards the town hall, where the voting papers were to be counted. It had been announced that the figures would be known soon after eleven o'clock, and thousands of people waited outside the huge building, wondering as to the result of the day's voting. Of course, Paul and some of his supporters were in the counting chamber, and Paul noticed that Mr. Bolitho pa.s.sed from table to table, talking eagerly with his friends. Evidently the voting was very close. The little heaps of voting papers were placed along the table, and it seemed as though neither had the advantage. More than once Paul was within a foot of his opponent, but neither spoke a word.

It seemed as though something sealed their lips. There was something more than parties that divided them--something deeper, something personal, something that went down to the roots of life.

At length a hush came over the counting chamber. The last of the voting papers had been taken from the boxes, and the little piles of fifty were duly placed and counted. The mayor of the town was at his post, looking very pale and important. A half-sheet of paper was in his hand. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am now prepared to make known the results of the day's voting. It's been a very close fight, and there are less than two hundred votes in it." He did not know whether he was using the correct words or not. In fact he did not care. He was, perhaps, the most excited man in the room, not even excepting the two candidates. "It is as follows," he went on. "Bolitho----" He went no farther, for there was a great shout throughout the chamber. The employers looked at each other with gladness and satisfaction--their side had won! The working-men element looked grim and defiant.

"Silence!" proceeded the mayor. "Bolitho, 7,213; Stepaside, 7,080. It is my duty to declare that Mr. Bolitho is elected."

For the first time Mr. Bolitho turned towards Paul, and the young man noticed the look of triumph in his face. "You see, we've won!" he said. "In spite of everything, we've won!"

It was not the words so much, but the tone of his voice that maddened Paul. Throughout the day he had been in a state of intense excitement.

It seemed to him as though his nerves were raw, and he knew that he was on the point of a breakdown. Bolitho's tones, therefore, maddened him, and he was almost beside himself. "Yes, you have won," he said. "But how?"

"How?" laughed the other, and he was ashamed of himself for speaking the words, but he, too, was strangely wrought upon. "How? By honour and fair play!"

"Gentlemen," said the mayor, "I must announce the numbers to the crowd outside. There are thousands of people who have been waiting for hours to know the results, and they will not go away until they hear them.

Of course, too, they will expect a few words from Mr. Bolitho and Mr.

Stepaside."

It took some minute or two to make the arrangements for this, and Paul, smarting under the sting of what his opponent had said, burst forth, "Honour and fair play! Was it honour and fair play to besmear my mother's name, to throw reflections upon my birth? Was it honour and fair play to speak of me as an atheist? Was it honour and fair play to send out a circular, unsigned and untraceable, which threw out innuendoes about my financial position? And, more than all, was it honour and fair play to seek to ruin me?"

"I never once referred to the circular!" replied Mr. Bolitho.

"You never condemned it!" cried the young man. "You allowed the poison to work, and took advantage of it! And more than that, you know as well as I that the whole thing was arranged for. In order to win this election, you stopped at nothing, even my ruin!"

Paul had barely ceased speaking when he saw that Mary Bolitho stood immediately behind her father and had heard all he said. He saw, too, that Mr. Bolitho's face had become pale as ashes, and he felt sure that his words had wounded him.

"I did nothing to ruin you," he said at length.

"But were glad when you heard of it!" replied the young man. "And you did not hesitate to drag in the religious business. That, at all events, you cannot deny!"

At this the older man's face cleared, except that the mocking smile remained on his lips.

"That, of course, was inevitable," he replied. "We had to deal with the question of education, of religious education. How could I keep, then, from dealing with personal matters? You believe in a mere secular education, and proclaim your views with no uncertain voice. I, who am convinced that a mere secular education would ruin the country, had to oppose you, and had to deal with your personal att.i.tude to the whole matter. You cannot deny that! Have the courage of your convictions, man, and stand by them!" And Paul noted the taunt in his voice.

"I have!" he replied. "I deny nothing of what I have said, and your att.i.tude has made me believe less in your religion than ever.

Why"--and his voice became tense and bitter--"I'm willing to allow my religion to be tested by this election. I have not uttered one wrong word about you. I have done nothing to defame your character, in spite of what has pa.s.sed. And yet you have sneered at my 'ignorant atheism and blatant unbelief.' Is that religion? Is that playing the game?

You, who profess to be a gentleman! You, who have had all the advantages of education! You, who boast of playing the game, and not fouling the pitch! Even if you have not openly said these things, you have allowed your supporters to blacken my mother's name. You have used foul gossip as a weapon with which to fight. You have allowed a devilish circular to be sent out, and never condemned it. And you have been willing to benefit by the attempts to ruin me!"

Paul watched Mary Bolitho's face as he spoke, and he noted the vindictive anger in her eyes, he knew that he was alienating himself more completely from her by the words he used. But he did not care; he was past caring! The election was lost. He had failed in the fight.

The woman he loved and hated at the same time scorned him more than ever--and ruin stared him in the face!

Mr. Bolitho shrugged his shoulders. He had been too long before the public to heed attacks of this sort. He had been hardened by many a fight in the law courts, and he knew how little such words might mean.

Besides, he was naturally in a good humour. He had won the fight. He was Member for Brunford.