“Why?”

“There is the House.  The position there would be untenable.  A man is known there as he is known in his own club.”  He drew away from Chilcote’s touch.

“Very possibly.  Very possibly.”  Chilcote laughed quickly and excitedly.  “But what club is without its eccentric member?  I am glad you spoke of that.  I am glad you raised that point.  It was a long time ago that I hit upon a reputation for moods as a shield for—­for other things, and, the more useful it has become, the more I have let it grow.  I tell you you might go down to the House to-morrow and spend the whole day without speaking to, even nodding to, a single man, and as long as you were I to outward appearances no one would raise an eyebrow.  In the same way you might vote in my place ask a question, make a speech if you wanted to—­”

At the word speech Loder turned involuntarily For a fleeting second the coldness of his manner dropped and his face changed.

Chilcote, with his nervous quickness of perception, saw the alteration, and a new look crossed his own face.

“Why not?” he said, quickly.  “You once had ambitions in that direction.  Why not renew the ambitions?”

“And drop back from the mountains into the gutter?” Loder smiled and slowly shook his head.

“Better to live for one day than to exist for a hundred!” Chilcote’s voice trembled with anxiety.  For the third time he extended his hand and touched the other.

This time Loder did not shake off the detaining; hand; he scarcely seemed to feel its pressure.

“Look here.”  Chilcote’s fingers tightened.  “A little while ago you talked of influence.  Here you can step into a position built by influence.  You might do all you once hoped to do—­”

Loder suddenly lifted his head.  “Absurd!” he said.  “Absurd!  Such a scheme was never carried through.”

“Precisely why it will succeed.  People never suspect until they have a precedent.  Will you consider it?  At least consider it.  Remember, if there is a risk, it is I who am running it.  On your own showing, you have no position to jeopardize.”

The other laughed curtly.

“Before I go to-night will you promise me to consider it?”

“No.”

“Then you will send me your decision by wire to-morrow.  I won’t take your answer now.”

Loder freed his arm abruptly.  “Why not?” he asked.

Chilcote smiled nervously.  “Because I know men—­and men’s temptations.  We are all very strong till the quick is touched; then we all wince.  It’s morphia with one man, ambitions with another.  In each case it’s only a matter of sooner or later.”  He laughed in his satirical, unstrung way, and held out his hand. “’You have my address,” he said.  “Au revoir.”

Loder pressed the hand and dropped it.  “Goodbye,” he said, meaningly.  Then he crossed the room quietly and held the door open.  “Good-bye,” he said again as the other passed him.