“You think I’m cut out for that kind of thing?”

“Judging from what I have heard of your talk.  But not in England, you understand.  Try one of the new countries, where the popular cause goes ahead more boldly.  You’re young enough yet.”

The listener mused, smiling in a self-conscious way that obliged Glazzard to avert his face for a moment lest he should betray contemptuous amusement.

“Shall you be there—­in that town—­to-morrow?” asked the young man.

“No, I have business in quite another part.  That election,” he added, with an air of importance, “is not the only one I am looking after.”

There was silence, then Glazzard continued: 

“It’s indifferent to me whether it comes out that I planned this stratagem, or not.  Still, in the interests of my party, I admit that I had rather it were kept quiet.  So I’ll tell you what.  If, in a month’s time, I find that you have kept the secret, you shall receive at any address you like a second five-pound note.  It’s just as you please.  Of course, if you think you can get more by bargaining with the Liberals—­but I doubt whether the secret will be worth anything after the explosion.”

“All right.  I’ll give you an address, so that if you keep in the same mind”——­

He mentioned it.  And Glazzard made a note.

“Then we strike a bargain, Mr. Northway?”

“Yes, I’ll go through with it,” was the deliberate reply.

“Very well.  Then you shall have the particulars.”

Thereupon Glazzard made known the names he had kept in reserve.  Northway jotted them down on the back of an envelope, his hand rather unsteady.

“There’s a train to Polterham,” said Glazzard, “at nine o’clock in the morning.  You’ll be there by ten—­see Ridge the bookseller, and be at the Court-house in convenient time.  I know there’s a sitting to-morrow; and on the second day after comes out the Polterham Tory paper.  You will prepare them such an item of news in their police reports as they little look for.  By that time the whole truth will be known, of course, and Mr. Quarrier’s candidature will be impossible.”

“What will the Liberals do?”

“I can’t imagine.  We shall look OR and enjoy the situation—­ unprecedented, I should think.”

Northway again smiled; he seemed to enter into the jest.

“You sleep here,” said Glazzard.  “Your expenses are paid.  I’ll take leave of you now, and I sha’n’t see you again, as I have to leave by the 3.40 up-train.”

The money he had promised was transferred to Northway’s pocket, and they shook hands with much friendliness.

Glazzard quitted the hotel.  His train back to Polterham left at 1.14, and it was past midnight.

He went into the station, now quiet and deserted.  A footstep occasionally echoed under the vault, or a voice sounded from a distance.  The gas was lowered; out at either end gleamed the coloured signal-lights, and above them a few faint stars.