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Rh was a man who could not only preach justice, but could get it; a man with material as well as spiritual power, a man who could force capital to its knees, and bring victory to the cause of labor. And the rector of Christ Church was not such a man. Wherefore they looked on with indifference as these two passed by.

Though it was still early morning Richard Malleson was in. He had been coming early to his office, and staying late. That his work and his anxiety were wearing on him there could be no doubt. His appearance indicated it. Within the last two months he had aged perceptibly. His hair had grown noticeably gray. Sharp lines had been etched into his face. His clothes no longer fitted his body snugly, and above his collar the skin of his neck hung in flabby, vertical folds. But his cold, gray eyes had lost none of their sharpness, and his square, aggressive jaws were even more firmly set than of old. He sent out word that he would see Mr. Farrar, but that Barry was not to be admitted. So the rector entered the office alone. The president of the company rose and shook hands formally with his visitor, and motioned him to a chair. Then he sat back and fingered his eye-glasses expectantly. The rector went at once to the point, as was his custom.

"My errand this morning," he said, "is to tell you that I believe a way has been opened for the immediate resumption of work at your mills."

"Yes?" There was no manifestation of surprise or of interest in either his voice or his manner.

"Yes. I understand that your men are willing to return on the old terms, without Bricky Hoover."

"I believe that is true. I was so informed by a committee yesterday."

"Then what stands in the way of a settlement?"

"Everything. We shall not take these men back."

"Why not?"

"I will tell you. We had an agreement with them which, by their strike, they have flagrantly and cause-