and indignation.  And to crown all, came the intolerable conviction, in the formation of which Wilson’s triumphant words had not been necessary, that if he won the election it would be due to this public dishonouring of his own father.  He walked about the room in despair, and at last halted before the mantelpiece on which still stood the photograph of the Princess in its silver frame.  Suddenly he remembered that he had not told her of this incident in his family history.  She too would be reading her newspaper this morning.  He saw her proud lips curl.  The son of a gaol-bird!  He tore the photograph from its frame and threw it into the fire and watched it burn.  As the paper writhed under the heat, the lips seemed to twist into sad reproach.  He turned away impatiently.  That romantic madness was over and done with.  He had far sterner things to do than shriek his heart out over a woman in an alien star.  He had his life to reconstruct in the darkness threatening and mocking; but at last he had truth for a foundation; on that he would build in defiance of the world.

In the midst of these fine thoughts it occurred to him that he had hidden the prison episode in his father’s career from the Winwoods as well as from the Princess.  His checks flushed; it was one more strain on the loyalty of these dear devoted friends.  He went downstairs, and found the Colonel and Miss Winwood in the dining-room.  Their faces were grave.  He came to them with outstretched arms—­a familiar gesture, one doubtless inherited from his Sicilian ancestry.

“You see what has happened.  I knew all the time.  I didn’t tell you.  You must forgive me.”

“I don’t blame you, my boy,” said Colonel Winwood.  “It was your father’s secret.  You had no right to tell us.”

“We’re very grieved, dear, for both your sakes,” Ursula added.  “James has taken the liberty of sending round a message of sympathy.”

As ever, these two had gone a point beyond his anticipation of their loyalty.  He thanked them simply.

“It’s hateful,” said he, “to think I may win the election on account of this.  It’s loathsome.”  He shuddered.

“I quite agree with you,” said the Colonel.  “But in politics one has often to put up with hateful things in order to serve one’s country.  That’s the sacrifice a high-minded man is called upon to make.”

“Besides,” said Miss Winwood, “let us hope it won’t affect votes.  All the papers say that the vote of confidence was passed amid scenes of enthusiasm.”

Paul smiled.  They understood.  A little while later they drove off with him to his committee room in the motor car gay with his colours.  There was still much to be done that day.

CHAPTER XX