Part 32 (2/2)

Salt glanced round the office. On and about his desk all the books and papers that might be turned to a hostile purpose had been stacked in readiness, and by them stood the can of oil that was to ensure their complete destruction. He stepped up to the window and looked out cautiously. Every pane of gla.s.s was broken--every pane of gla.s.s in Trafalgar Chambers was broken, for that matter--but it was not easy for an unprepared mob to force an entrance. When the Unity League had taken over the whole block of building in its expansion many alterations had been carried out, and among these had been to fix railings that sprang from the street and formed an arch, not only over the bas.e.m.e.nt, but over the ground floor windows also. If the shutters on the windows had been closed in time, the a.s.sailants would have been baffled at another point, but the shutters had been overlooked, and the mob, after lighting great fires in the street, was now flinging the blazing billets through the lower windows.

In a very brief minute Irene was back again with the telescribe accessories. She seated herself at a table, dipped her pen into the ink, and looked up without a word.

”TRAFALGAR CHAMBERS.

”6.25 P.M.,” dictated Salt. ”Most of the miners drawn off and pa.s.sing through Brentford. Over Barfold Rise half battery of 18-pounders, one out of action. In Spring Coppice and Welland Wood about four companies regulars each. Reconnoitre third position a.s.suming same proportion. Act.”

He stood considering whether there was anything more to add usefully.

The sound of Irene's agate pen tapping persistently against the table caught his ear.

”You are not very much afraid?” he asked with kindly rea.s.surance in his voice as he looked at her hand.

”No, not now,” she replied; but as she wrote she had to still the violent trembling of her right hand with the left.

”All going well here. Send messenger Hampden with report immediately after engagement,” he concluded.

”I will try to sign it myself.” He succeeded in sprawling a recognisable ”George Salt” across the paper, and after it wrote ”Finis,” which happened to be the pa.s.s-word for the day.

”Your message came through; this may possibly do the same,” he remarked.

He turned off the radiator as orderly as though he had reached the close of a working day, and they went out together, locking the doors behind them.

”They were attacking Hanwood when you left?” she asked with the tensest interest. They had sent off the telescript, and it seemed to Irene that they had reached the end of things.

”Yes,” he replied. ”But all the same,” he added, as a fresh outburst of cries rose from the street, and the light through the shattered window attracted a renewed fusillade of missiles, ”I think that we have kept our promise to let you be in the thick of it.”

She shook her head with the very faintest smile. ”That seems a very long time ago. But you, how could _you_ come? When I sent I never thought ...

I never dreamed----”

”It was possible to leave,” he said. ”My work is done. Yes,” in reply to her startled glance, ”it has all happened!”

”You mean----?” she asked eagerly.

He took a paper from his pocket-book. It was, as she saw immediately, a telescript from Sir John Hampden. It had reached him at Hanwood an hour before he left.

”I have this afternoon received a deputation of Ministerialists who have the adherence of a majority in the House without taking the Opposition into account,” she read. ”The Parliamentary Representation Committees throughout the country are frantically insisting upon members accepting _any terms_, if we will give an undertaking that the normal balance of trade and labour shall be restored at once. The Cabinet is going to pieces every hour, and the situation can no longer either be faced or ignored by the Government. There will be a great scene in the House to-night. The deputation will see me again to-morrow morning with a formal decision. I have confidential a.s.surances that a complete acceptance is a foregone conclusion.

The arrival of the Midland colliers to-night, if not of those from Monmouth, will precipitate matters.”

Tears she could not hold back stood in her eyes as she returned to him the paper. ”Then it has not been in vain,” she said softly.

”No,” he replied. ”Nothing has been in vain.”

They stood silently for a minute, looking back over life. So might two s.h.i.+pwrecked pa.s.sengers have stood on a frail raft waiting for the end, resigned but not unhopeful of a larger destiny beyond, while the elements boiled and roared around them.

”It was very weak of me to send that message,” said Irene presently; ”the message that brought you. I suppose,” she added, ”that it _was_ the message that brought you?”

”Yes, thank G.o.d!” he replied.

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