ountry, but we
never had any doubt who ruled Parliament.

To take but one instance, the sudden _volte face_ of Lord Baringstoke on
the Home Rule Question. This created a great sensation at the time, and
various explanations were suggested to account for it. Nobody guessed
the truth. The fact is that Mr. Bunting tendered his resignation.

Lord Baringstoke was much distressed. An increase of salary was
immediately suggested and waved aside.

"It is not that, m'lord," said Bunting. "It is a question of principle.
Your lordship's expressed views as to Ireland are not, if I may say so,
the views of my friends and of myself. And on that subject we feel
deeply. Preoccupied with that difference, if I remained, I could no
longer do justice to your lordship nor to myself. My wounded and
bleeding heart----"

"Oh, never mind your bleeding heart, Bunting," said Baringstoke. "Do I
understand that this is your only reason for wanting to go?"

"That is so, m'lord."

"Then, supposing that I reconsidered my views as to Ireland and found
that they were in fact the opposite of what I had previously supposed,
you would remain?"

"With very great pleasure."

"Then in that case you had better wait a few days. I'm inclined to think
that everything can be arranged."

"Very good, m'lord."

Less than a week later, Lord Baringstoke's public recantation was the
talk of London. In a speech of considerable eloquence he showed how the
merciless logic of facts had convinced his intellect, and his conscience
had compelled him to abandon the position he had previously taken up.
Fortunately, you can prove absolutely anything about Ireland. It is
merely a question of what facts you will select and what you will
suppress.

Mr. Bunting is, I believe, still with Lord Baringstoke. This was,
perhaps, one of the principal triumphs of the Soles. There were many
others. We had our own secret service, and I should here acknowledge
with respect and admiration the Gallic ingenuity of two of the Soles,
Monsieur Colbert and Monsieur Normand, in reconstructing fragmentary
letters taken from the waste-paper baskets of the illustrious.

Naturally, we had to suffer from the jealousy and malice of those who
had not been asked to join us, and a rumour even was spread abroad that
we played bridge for sixpence a hundred. There was no truth in it. There
have been, and still are, gambling clubs among the younger men-servants
of the West-end, but we never gambled.