"Politics," he said, "is the one career in which men seldom recover from
their mistakes. I hope that even at the eleventh hour you will relent.
It will be a grief to all of us to see you slip away from the reputable
places."

The Right Honourable John Augustus Horlock stepped into his motor-car
and drove away. Tallente, after a glance at his watch, called a taxi
and proceeded to keep his appointment at Demos House, the great block of
buildings where Dartrey had established his headquarters. In the large,
open waiting room where he was invited to take a seat he watched with
interest the faces of the passers-by. There seemed to be visitors from
every class of the community. A Board of Trade official was there to
present some figures connected with the industry which he represented.
Half a dozen operatives, personally conducted by a local leader, had
travelled up that morning from one of the great manufacturing centres.
A well-known writer was there, waiting to see the chief of the literary
section. Tallente found his period of detention all too short. He was
summoned in to see Dartrey, who welcomed him warmly.

"Sit down, Tallente," he invited. "We are both of us men who believe in
simple things and direct action. Have you made up your mind?"

"I have," Tallente announced. "I have broken finally with Horlock. I
have told him that I am coming to you."

Dartrey leaned over and held out both his hands. The spiritual side of
his face seemed at that moment altogether in the ascendant. He welcomed
Tallente as the head of a great religious order might have welcomed a
novice. He was full of dignity and kindliness as well as joy.