But at length there came one letter distinct from all the rest; it had the seal of a Government office. With eyes which scarcely credited what they saw Mutimer read some twenty or thirty words from a Minister of the Crown, a gentleman of vigorously Radical opinions, who had ‘heard with much regret that the undertaking conceived and pursued with such single-hearted zeal’ had come to an untimely end. Mutimer rushed to Adela like a schoolboy who has a holiday to announce. ‘Read that now! What do you think of that? Now there’s some hope of a statesman like that!’ Adela gave forth the letter in a voice which was all too steady. 7 But she said: ‘I am very glad. It must gratify you. He writes very kindly.’ ‘You’ll have to help me to make an answer.’ Adela smiled, but said nothing. The ceremonious opening of the hall at New Wanley had been a great day; Mutimer tried his best to make the closing yet more effective. Mr. Westlake was persuaded to take the chair, but this time the oration was by the founder himself. There was a numerous assembly. Mutimer spoke for an hour and a quarter, reviewing what he had done, and enlarging on all that he might and would have done. There was as much applause as even he could desire. The proceedings closed with the reading of an address which was signed by all the people of the works, a eulogium and an expression of gratitude, not without one or two sentences of fiery Socialism. The spokesman was a fine fellow of six feet two, a man named Redgrave, the ideal of a revolutionist workman. He was one of the few men at the works whom Adela, from observation of their domestic life, had learnt sincerely to respect. Before reading the document he made a little speech of his own, and said in conclusion: ‘Here’s an example of how the law does justice in a capitalist society. The man who makes a grand use of money has it all taken away from him by the man who makes no use of it at all, except to satisfy his own malice and his own selfishness. If we don’t one and all swear to do our utmost to change such a state of things as that, all I can say is we’re a poor lot, and deserve to be worse treated than the animals, that haven’t the sense to use their strength!’ In his reply to the address Richard surpassed himself. He rose in excitement; the words that rushed to his lips could scarcely find articulate flow. After the due thanks: ‘To-morrow I go to London; I go as poor as the poorest of you, a mechanical engineer in search of work. Whether I shall find it or not there’s no saying. If they turned me out because of my opinions three years ago, it’s not very likely that they’ve grown fonder of me by this time. As poor as the poorest of you, I say. Most of you probably know that a small legacy is left to me under the will which gives this property into other hands. That money will be used, every penny of it, for the furtherance of our cause!’