The man laid his hat upon the table. Maraton, glancing across the room at him, was instantly conscious that this newcomer was no ordinary person. He had a strong, intellectual forehead, a well-shaped mouth. His voice, when he spoke, was pleasant, although his accent was peculiar--almost foreign. "Mr. Maraton," his visitor began, "I thank you very much for your courtesy, but I have nothing to do with the Press. My name is Beldeman. I have come to Manchester especially to see you." Maraton nodded. "We are strangers, I believe?" he asked. "Strangers personally. No thinking man to-day is a stranger to Mr. Maraton in any other way." "You are very kind," Maraton replied. "What can I do for you?" Beldeman glanced towards the door so as to be sure that it was closed. "Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you a bad-tempered man?" "At times," Maraton admitted. "I regret to see," his visitor proceeded, "that you are a man of superior physique to mine. I am here to make you an offer which you may consider an insult. If you are a narrow, ordinary Englishman, obstinate, with cast-iron principles and the usual prejudices, you will probably try to throw me down-stairs. It is part of my living to run the risk of being thrown down-stairs." "I will do my best," Maraton promised him, "to restrain myself. You have at least succeeded in exciting my curiosity." "I am, to look at," Mr. Beldeman continued, "an unimportant person. As a matter of fact, I represent a very great country, and I come to you charged with a great mission." Maraton became a little graver. "Go on," he said. "I am anxious--perhaps over-anxious," Mr. Beldeman proceeded, "that I should put this matter before you in the most favourable light. I must confess that I have spent hours trying to make up my mind exactly how I should tell you my business. I have changed my mind so many times that there is nothing left of my original intention. I speak now as the thoughts come to me. I am here on behalf of a syndicate of manufacturers--foreign manufacturers--to offer you a bribe." Maraton stood quite still upon the hearth-rug. His face showed no emotion whatever. "You are, I believe," Mr. Beldeman went on, "only half an Englishman. That is why I am hoping that you will behave like a reasonable being, and that my person may be saved from violence. Upon your word rests the industrial future of this country for the next ten years. If your forges burn out and your factories are emptied, it will mean an era of prosperity for my country, indescribable. We are great trade rivals. We need just the opening. What we get we may not be able to hold altogether, when trade is once more good here, but that is of no consequence. We shall have it for a year or two, and that year or two will mean a good many millions to us." Maraton's eyes began to twinkle.