“There has been a rumour going about that some years ago—­while the war was on, in fact—­you wrote a very wonderful attack upon the trades unions.  This attack was so bitter in tone, so damning in some of its facts, and, in short, such a wonderful production, that at the last moment the late Prime Minister used his influence with you to suspend its publication.  It was held over, and in the meantime the attitude of the trades unions towards certain phases of the war was modified, and the collapse of Germany followed soon afterwards.  Consequently, that article was never published.”

“You are exceedingly well informed,” Tallente admitted.  “Pray proceed.”

“There is in existence,” the young man continued, “a signed copy of that article.  Its publication at the present moment would probably make your position with the Democratic Party untenable.”

“Is this a matter of blackmail?” Tallente asked.

The young man stiffened.

“I am speaking on behalf of the Prime Minister, sir.  He desired me to inform you that the signed copy of that article has been offered to him within the last few days.”

Tallente was silent for several moments.  The young man’s subtle intimation was a shock in more ways than one.

“The manuscript to which you refer,” he said at last, “was stolen from my study at Martinhoe under somewhat peculiar conditions.”

“Perhaps you would like to explain those conditions to Mr. Horlock,” Williams suggested.

Tallente held open the door.

“I shall not seek out your Chief,” he said, “but I will tell him the truth about that manuscript if at any time we should come together.  In the meantime, I am perfectly in accord with the view which your Chief no doubt holds concerning it.  The publication of that article at the present moment would inevitably end my connection with the Democratic Party and probably close my political career.  This is a position which I should court rather than submit to blackmail direct or indirect.”

“My Chief will resent your using such a word, sir,” Williams declared.

“Your Chief could have avoided it by a judicious use of the waste-paper basket and an exercise of the gift of silence.”  Tallente retorted, as the young man took his departure.

Horlock came face to face with Tallente the following afternoon, in one of the corridors of the House and, scarcely troubling about an invitation, led him forcibly into his private room.  He turned his secretary out and locked the door.

“A cigar?” he suggested.

Tallente shook his head.

“I want to see what’s doing, in a few minutes,” he said.

“I can tell you that,” Horlock declared.  “Nothing at all!  I was just off when I happened to see you.  You’re looking very fit and pleased with yourself.  Is it because of that rotten trick you played on us the other day?”

“Rotten?  I thought it was rather clever of me,” Tallente objected.