Martin. I told you that it was too late. I came up here to-night without imperilling my plans. It didn't matter that (_snapping his fingers_) how long you kept me here. Succeeded! The only thing you've succeeded in is in arousing your husband's suspicions. Guy. Be careful, Kelsall. Martin. I've nothing to be careful about. I could be at Jericho for all the difference it'll make. Ruth. You told me you were their leader. Martin. The leader of a movement is the brain of it. Brain is scarcer than brawn, and therefore---- Guy. Therefore it skulks up here in safety. Martin. Yes, that's what that soldier said to you. (_Guy makes a threatening gesture._) Oh, but he's wrong, of course. You don't suppose Lord Wellington was in the firing line at Waterloo? He left fools like your soldier friend to feed the powder. A leader's business is direction. Guy. Am I to understand that you direct? You? Martin (_quietly_). I have directed. In no long time I hope to see the fruits of my direction. Guy. Down there? (_Pointing l._) There'll be a crop of broken heads if that's the fruit you're looking for. Martin. I'm looking up, not down. Guy. Up? Martin. A sign in the heavens. Guy (_bewildered_). The heavens! Martin (_passionately_). Don't you believe in heaven? Sometimes I don't. I find it difficult to believe in a just God who lets you live and lets your machinery be made and lets you starve your weavers. But I have faith to-night, Guy Barlow, a mighty faith in the all-seeing God who's brought us face to face, oppressor and oppressed, avenger and----- Ruth (_as Martin approaches Guy_). Be careful, Guy, he means to do you harm. Guy (_gently putting her aside_). My dear Ruth, I'm quite convinced you read too much. Romance and Mrs. Radcliffe are fitting for your withdrawing-room, but please don't bring them out of doors. You told me once romance was dangerous for women. I find it is. Ruth. But he was armed. Thank God, I've got his pistol. Guy (_losing temper_). You got his pistol! Confound you, what did you do that for? I can't shoot the fellow in cold blood. Martin. Oh, you needn't scruple. Life's no use to a weaver in Barlow's factory, and my work is finished now. Guy (_to Ruth_). Give it him back. Ruth. You'll fight together if I do. Guy. Do as I tell you, Ruth. (_Ruth holds out the pistol to Martin, who doesn't take it._) Martin. I warn you this is murder. Guy. You shouldn't carry firearms if you're not competent to use them. Martin. The murder is of you. This is my night, Guy Barlow. You've had the power to starve and sweat the weavers of the valley, but the tide has turned at last. The luck's on my side now, and if we fight and one of us should fall, it won't be I that has to die to-night. Ruth, You shall not fight. This pistol's mine, I won it from you. I do what I like with my own. (_She flings it down the cliff. It is heard to strike and rebounding, strike again._)