To this he replied that he would certainly come back to the rooms in Great Marlborough Street, should he be lucky enough to find them vacant, and he expressed his willingness to take them on and from the 1st of February.  And on the 3rd of February he found himself in the old quarters, Mrs. Bunce having contrived, with much conjugal adroitness, both to keep Miss Pouncefoot and to stave off the Equity draftsman’s wife and baby.  Bunce, however, received Phineas very coldly, and told his wife the same evening that as far as he could see their lodger would never turn up to be a trump in the matter of the ballot.  “If he means well, why did he go and stay with them lords down in Scotland?  I knows all about it.  I knows a man when I sees him.  Mr. Low, who’s looking out to be a Tory judge some of these days, is a deal better;—­because he knows what he’s after.”

Immediately on his return to town, Phineas found himself summoned to a political meeting at Mr. Mildmay’s house in St. James’s Square.  “We’re going to begin in earnest this time,” Barrington Erle said to him at the club.

“I am glad of that,” said Phineas.

“I suppose you heard all about it down at Loughlinter?”

Now, in truth, Phineas had heard very little of any settled plan down at Loughlinter.  He had played a game of chess with Mr. Gresham, and had shot a stag with Mr. Palliser, and had discussed sheep with Lord Brentford, but had hardly heard a word about politics from any one of those influential gentlemen.  From Mr. Monk he had heard much of a coming Reform Bill; but his communications with Mr. Monk had rather been private discussions,—­in which he had learned Mr. Monk’s own views on certain points,—­than revelations on the intention of the party to which Mr. Monk belonged.  “I heard of nothing settled,” said Phineas; “but I suppose we are to have a Reform Bill.”

“That is a matter of course.”

“And I suppose we are not to touch the question of ballot.”

“That’s the difficulty,” said Barrington Erle.  “But of course we shan’t touch it as long as Mr. Mildmay is in the Cabinet.  He will never consent to the ballot as First Minister of the Crown.”

“Nor would Gresham, or Palliser,” said Phineas, who did not choose to bring forward his greatest gun at first.

“I don’t know about Gresham.  It is impossible to say what Gresham might bring himself to do.  Gresham is a man who may go any lengths before he has done.  Planty Pall,”—­for such was the name by which Mr. Plantagenet Palliser was ordinarily known among his friends,—­“would of course go with Mr. Mildmay and the Duke.”

“And Monk is opposed to the ballot,” said Phineas.

“Ah, that’s the question.  No doubt he has assented to the proposition of a measure without the ballot; but if there should come a row, and men like Turnbull demand it, and the London mob kick up a shindy, I don’t know how far Monk would be steady.”