“It’s been really a beastly business!” said Lankester, under his breath.  “Precious little politics in it, too, as far as I could see.  The strong Ferrierites no doubt have held aloof on the score of Marsham’s supposed disloyalty to the great man; though, as far as I can make out, he has been careful not to go beyond a certain line in his speeches.  Anyway, they have done no work, and a good many of them have certainly abstained from voting.  It is our vote that has gone down; the Tories have scarcely increased theirs at all.  But the other side—­and the Socialists—­got hold of a lot of nasty little things about the estate and the collieries.  The collieries are practically in rebellion, spoiling for a big strike next November, if not before.  When Miss Drake and Marsham drove round there this morning they were very badly received.  Her parasol was broken by a stone, and there was a good deal of mud-throwing.”

Bobbie eyed his companion.

“Was any of the Opposition personal to her?”

Lankester nodded.

“There’s an extraordinary feeling all over the place for—­”

“Of course there is!” said Bobbie, hotly.  “Marsham isn’t such a fool as not to know that.  Why did he let this aggressive young woman take such a prominent part?”

Lankester shrugged his shoulders, but did not pursue the subject.  The two men went up-stairs, and Lankester parted from his companion with the remark: 

“I must say I hope Marsham won’t press for anything in the Government.  I don’t believe he’ll ever get in for this place again.”

Forbes shook his head.

“Marsham’s got a lot of devil in him somewhere.  I shouldn’t wonder if this made him set his teeth.”

* * * * *

Lankester opened the door of the ugly yet luxurious room which had been assigned him.  He looked round it with fresh distaste, resenting its unnecessary size and its pretentious decoration, resenting also the very careful valeting which had evidently been bestowed on his shabby clothes and personal appointments, as though the magnificent young footman who looked after him had been doing his painful best with impossible materials.

“Why, the idiots have shut the windows!”

He strode vehemently across the floor, only to find the park outside, as he hung across the sill, even less to his liking than the room within.

Then, throwing himself into a chair, tired out with the canvassing, speaking, and multifarious business of the preceding days, he fell to wondering what on earth had made him—­after the fatigues of his own election—­come down to help Marsham with his.  There were scores of men in the House he liked a great deal better, and requests for help had been showered upon him.