"You know what is in front?" asked Strong, calmly, making a last effort. "I think so. I'm told I'm one of those to be locked up. What does that matter? That won't lose me any friends." "A stubborn man will have his way," remarked Strong. Adding, at a venture: "Particularly when there is a woman in it." "There is a woman in it," answered Ned, flushing a little; "a woman who won't have me." Strong opened the door. "I've done my best for you," he said. "Don't blame me whatever happens. You, at least, had your choice of peace or war, of more than peace." "I understand. Personally, I shan't blame you," said Ned. "I choose war, more than war," and he set his mouth doggedly. "War, at any rate," answered Strong, holding out his hand, his face as grave as Ned's. The two men gripped hands tightly, like duellists crossing swords. Without another word they shook hands heartily and separated. Strong closed the door and walked up and down his room, hurriedly, deep in thought, pulling his lip. He sat down at his desk, took up his pen, got up and paced the room again. He went to the window and looked out into the well that admitted light to the centre of the great fortress-building. Then walked back to his desk and wrote. "He is a dangerous man," he murmured, as if excusing himself. "He is a most dangerous man." A youth answered a touch of the button. Strong sent for his confidential clerk. "Send this at once to Queensland in cipher," he instructed, in a business tone, when the man appeared; "this" being: Prominent bush unionist named Hawkins leaves Sydney to-night by train for Central Queensland via Brisbane. Have him arrested immediately. Most important. CHAPTER VIII. THE REPUBLICAN KISS. "I've never felt so before," said Ned. "For about ten minutes I wanted to go back and kill him." "Why?" "Because he is like a wall of iron in front of one. If he were a fat hulking brute, as some of them are, I wouldn't have minded. I could have pitied him and felt that he wasn't a fair specimen of Humanity. But this man is a fair specimen in a way. He looks like a man and he talks like a man and you feel him a man, only he's absolutely unable to understand that the crowd are the same flesh and blood as he is and you know that he'd wipe us down like ninepins if he could see he'd gain by it. He's all brains and any heart he's got is only for his own friends. He is Capitalism personified. He made me feel sick at heart at the hopelessness of fighting such men in the old ways. I felt for a little while that the only thing to do was to clear them out of the way as they'd clear us if they were in our shoes." "You've got over it soon."