Mr. Horlock somewhat resented his visitor’s tone.

“Surely my statement was sufficiently explicit?” he said, a little stiffly.  “The peerage concerning which at first, I admit, I saw difficulties, is yours.  You can, without doubt, be of great service to us in the Upper House and—­”

“But I’d sooner turn shopkeeper!” Tallente interrupted.  “If I understand that it is your intention to offer me a peerage, let us have no misunderstanding about the matter.  It is refused, absolutely and finally.”

The Prime Minister stared at his visitor for a moment in amazement.  Then he unlocked a drawer in his desk, drew out several letters and threw them over to Tallente.

“And will you tell me what the devil you mean by authorising your secretary to write these letters?” he demanded.

Tallente picked them up, read them through and gasped.

“Written by Palliser, aren’t they?” Mr. Horlock demanded.

“Without a doubt,” Tallente acknowledged.  “The amazing thing, however, is that they are entirely unauthorised.  The subject has never even been discussed between Palliser and myself.  I am exceedingly sorry, sir,” he went on, “that you should have been misled in this fashion, but I can only give you my word of honour that these letters are entirely and absolutely unauthorised.”

“God bless my soul!” the Prime Minister exclaimed.  “Where is Palliser?  Better telephone.”

“Palliser left my service a week or more ago,” Tallente replied.  “He left it at a moment’s notice, in consequence of a personal disagreement concerning which I beg that you will ask no questions I can only assure you that it was not political.  Since he left no word has been heard of him.  The papers, even, have been making capital of his disappearance.”

“It is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard in my life,” Horlock declared, a little irritably.  “Why, I’ve spent hours of my time trying to get this matter through.”

“Dealing seriously with Palliser, thinking that he represented me in this matter?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Will you lend me the letters?” Tallente asked.

Mr. Horlock threw them across the table.

“Here they are.  My secretary wrote twice to Palliser last week and received no reply.  That is why I sent you a telegram.”

“I was on my way to see you, anyway,” Tallente observed.  “I thought that you were going to offer me a seat.”

Mr. Horlock shook his head.

“We simply haven’t a safe one,” he confided, “and there isn’t a soul I could ask to give up, especially, to speak plainly, for you, Tallente.  They look upon you as dangerous, and although it would have been a nine days’ wonder, most of my people would have been relieved to have heard of your going to the Upper House.”

“I see,” Tallente murmured.  “In plain words, you’ve no use for me in the Cabinet?”

“My dear fellow,” the Prime Minister expostulated, “you have no right to talk like that.  I offered you a post of great responsibility and a seat which we believed to be perfectly safe.  You lost the election, bringing a considerable amount of discredit, if you will forgive my saying so, upon the Government.  What more can I do?”