CHAPTER VII

THE MAN FROM THE NORTH

A few days later, on a Saturday afternoon, the Colonel was sitting in

the loggia of the hostel looking out over the sea when he saw two men

coming down the shoulder of Beau-nez along the coast-guard path.

The tall man in black with flying coat-tails he recognised at once. It

was Mr. Geddes, the one outstanding minister of the Gospel in

Beachbourne: a scholar, yet in touch with his own times, eloquent and

broad, with a more than local reputation as a Liberal leader. His

companion was a sturdy fellow in a cap, with curly black hair and a

merry eye.

The Colonel, who never missed a chance, went out to waylay the pair.

Mr. Geddes introduced his friend--Mr. Burt, who'd come down recently

from Mather and Platt's in the North to act as foreman fitter at Hewson

and Clarke's in the East-end.

The Colonel reached out a bony hand, which the other gripped fiercely.

"I know you're both conspirators," he said with a wary smile. "What

troubles are you hatching for me now?"

Mr. Geddes laughed, and the engineer, surly a little from shyness and

self-conscious as a school-boy, grinned.

"Mr. Burt and I are both keen on education," said the minister. "He's

been telling me of Tawney's tutorial class at Rochdale. We're hatching

a branch of the W.E.A. down here. That's our only conspiracy."

"What's the W.E.A.?" asked the Colonel, always keen.

"It's the Democratic wing of the National Service League," the engineer

answered in broad Lancashire--"Workers' Education Association."

The Colonel nodded.

"He's getting at me!" he said. "I'm always being shot at. Will you

both come in to tea and talk?--I should like you to meet my wife, Burt.

She'll take you on. She's a red-hot Tory and a bonnie fighter."

But Mr. Geddes had a committee, and--"A must get on with the

Revolution," said Burt gravely.

"What Revolution's that?" asked the Colonel.

"The Revolution that begun in 1906--and that's been going on ever

since; and will go on till we're through!" He said the last words with

a kind of ferocity; and then burst into a sudden jovial roar as he saw

the humour of his own ultra-seriousness.

Mrs. Lewknor, who had been watching the interview from the loggia,

called to her husband as he returned to the house.

"Who was that man with Mr. Geddes?" she asked.

"Stanley Bessemere's friend," the Colonel answered. "A red

Revolutionary from Lancasheer--on the bubble; and a capital good fellow

too, I should say."

That evening the Colonel rang up Mr. Geddes to ask about the engineer.

"He's the new type of intellectual artizan," the minister informed him.

"The russet-coated captain who knows what he's fighting for and loves

what he knows. Unless I'm mistaken he's going to play a considerable