They walked slowly back to Assisi, first putting their elderly heads together a little further on the subject of Diana, and then passing on to the politics of the moment—­to the ever present subject of the party revolt, and its effect on the election.

“Pshaw!—­let them attack you as they please!” said Chide, after they had talked awhile.  “You are safe enough.  There is no one else.  You are like the hero in a novel, ‘the indispensable.’”

Ferrier laughed.

“Don’t be so sure.  There is always a ’supplanter’—­when the time is ripe.”

“Where is he?  Who is he?”

“I had a very curious letter from Lord Philip this morning,” said Ferrier, thoughtfully.

Chide’s expression changed.

Lord Philip Darcy, a brilliant but quite subordinate member of the former Liberal Government, had made but occasional appearances in Parliament during the five years’ rule of the Tories.  He was a traveller and explorer, and when in England a passionate votary of the Turf.  An incisive tongue, never more amusing than when it was engaged in railing at the English workman and democracy in general, a handsome person, and a strong leaning to Ritualism—­these qualities and distinctions had not for some time done much to advance his Parliamentary position.  But during the preceding session he had been more regular in his attendance at the House, and had made a considerable impression there—­as a man of eccentric, but possibly great ability.  On the whole, he had been a loyal supporter of Ferrier’s; but in two or three recent speeches there had been signs of coquetting with the extremists.

Ferrier, having mentioned the letter, relapsed into silence.  Sir James, with a little contemptuous laugh, inquired what the nature of the letter might be.

“Oh, well, he wants certain pledges.”  Ferrier drew the letter from his pocket, and handed it to his friend.  Sir James perused it, and handed it back with a sarcastic lip.

“He imagines you are going to accept that programme?”

“I don’t know.  But it is clear that the letter implies a threat if I don’t.”

“A threat of desertion?  Let him.”

“That letter wasn’t written off his own bat.  There is a good deal behind it.  The plot, in fact, is thickening.  From the letters of this morning I see that a regular press campaign is beginning.”

He mentioned two party papers which had already gone over to the dissidents—­one of some importance, the other of none.

“All right,” said Chide; “so long as the Herald and the Flag do their duty.  By-the-way, hasn’t the Herald got a new editor?”

“Yes; a man called Barrington—­a friend of Oliver’s.”

“Ah!—­a good deal sounder on many points than Oliver!” grumbled Sir James.

Ferrier did not reply.

Chide noticed the invariable way in which Marsham’s name dropped between them whenever it was introduced in this connection.