just now, but this was only temporary; those firms that could weather the storm for a year or two longer would enter upon a time of brilliant prosperity.  Was it to be supposed that the Government would allow a great industry to perish out of mere regard for the fetish of Free Trade?  City men with first-hand information declared that “measures” were being prepared; in one way or another, the English trade would be rescued and made triumphant over those bounty-fed foreigners.

“Hold on?” cried Sherwood.  “Of course I mean to hold on.  There’s pleasure and honour in the thing.  I enjoy the fight.  I’ve had thoughts of getting into Parliament, to speak for sugar.  One might do worse, you know.  There’ll be a dissolution next year, certain.  First-rate fun, fighting a constituency.  But in that case I must have a partner here—­why that’s an idea.  How would it suit you?  Why not join me?”

And so the thing came about.  The terms which Godfrey offered were so generous that Will had to reduce them before he accepted:  even thus, he found his income, at a stroke, all but doubled.  Sherwood, to be sure, did not stand for Parliament, nor was anything definite heard about that sugar-protecting budget which he still believed in.  In Little Ailie Street business steadily declined.

“It’s a disgrace to England!” cried Godfrey.  “Monstrous that not a finger should be lifted to save one of our most important industries.  You, of course, are free to retire at any moment, Will.  For my own part, here I stand, come what may.  If it’s ruin, ruin let it be.  I’ll fight to the last.  A man owes me ten thousand pounds.  When I recover it, and I may any day—­I shall put every penny into the business.”

“Ten thousand pounds!” exclaimed Warburton in astonishment.  “A trade debt, do you mean?”

“No, no.  A friend of mine, son of a millionaire, who got into difficulties some time ago, and borrowed of me to clear himself.  Good interest, and principal safe as Consols.  In a year at most I shall have the money back, and every penny shall go into the business.”

Will had his private view of the matter, and not seldom suffered a good deal of uneasiness as he saw the inevitable doom approach.  But already it was too late to withdraw his share from the concern; that would have been merely to take advantage of Sherwood’s generosity, and Will was himself not less chivalrous.  In Godfrey’s phrase, they continued “to fight the ship,” and perhaps would have held out to the moment of sinking, had not the accession of the Liberals to power in the spring of this present year caused Sherwood so deep a disgust that he turned despondent and began to talk of surrender to hopeless circumstance.

“It’s all up with us, Will.  This Government spells ruin, and will count it one of its chief glories if we come to grief.  But, by Heaven, they shan’t have that joy.  We’ll square up, quietly, comfortably, with dignity.  We’ll come out of this fight with arms and baggage.  It’s still possible, you know.  We’ll sell the St. Kitts estate to the Germans.  We’ll find some one to buy us up here—­the place would suit a brewer.  And then—­by Jove! we’ll make jam.”