some
looms and power, cheap. Then, without any reason, you were told you
couldn't have it. Somebody else got it. Who got it? We know. I make
no comment, but there it is. Presently the election came on, and nasty
stories got to be afloat about your birth and parentage. It was
whispered about that you were a come-by-chance child, and your mother
was a bad woman. Who was responsible for that? We don't know, or, at
least, we can't prove; but, put two and two together. In spite of
everything you began to gain ground. People began to support you, and
it looked very bad for the other side. You know that; everyone knows
it. And then came this other affair. You didn't know that anyone else
was manufacturing what you manufactured. You thought it was your
secret; but the secret leaked out. I don't say who betrayed you, but
there it is. But this I've found out: an old, disused mill was taken
the other side of Manchester. Who took it? The name of the owner was
kept quiet. It was said to be run by a little private company. That
was some time ago now, and ever since that mill was taken there's been
a kind of secret as to who owned it. But I've discovered this: they
manufactured the same stuff that you manufacture. But they did not try
to sell it. They kept piling it up in their warehouses. Can you see
the meaning of this? It was kept quiet, mind; as quiet as death.
Nobody seemed to know the stuff they were turning out. Then suddenly
that stuff was pushed on the market at a price which left no margin for
profits; nay, they offered it at a price less, far less, than you can
manufacture it for. For months they had been piling it up in the
warehouses, and they were able to flood the market. Now you know why
the prices went down, and why you could not sell your stuff except at a
ruinous loss!"

Paul listened to the young man with pale face and set features. He
spoke no word, but it was easy to see that he grasped every detail
which the young man mentioned. He saw the purport of his words too.

"I see," he said quietly. "And have you found out who the owner of
that factory is?"

"Yes," replied Enoch Standring, "I have found out."

"Ned Wilson, of course," said Paul.

"Ay," replied the other laconically.

"And you have proofs?"

"Yes, I have proofs. They are all here docketed and numbered. I will
go into them whenever you're ready. They are all there."

For a few seconds a silence fell upon them,