and
lifting it up. "This is the only key," he said, showing his bunch. "Now
then, they are perfectly safe while I go across the hall with you."

Stamfordham nodded.

"By the way," he said, pausing, "you are married now, Rendel...."

"I am, yes, I am glad to say," Rendel replied.

"To be sure," said Stamfordham, with a little bow conveying discreet
congratulation. "But--remember that a married man sometimes tells
secrets to his wife."

"Does he, sir?" said Rendel, with an air of assumed innocence.

"I believe I have heard so," said Stamfordham.

"On the other hand," said Rendel, "I also have heard that a married man
sometimes keeps secrets from his wife."

"Oh well, that is better," said Stamfordham.

"From some points of view, perhaps," said Rendel. Then he added more
seriously, "You may be quite sure, sir, that no one--_no one_--in this
house shall know about those papers. I would give you my word of honour,
but I don't suppose it would make my assertion any stronger."

"If you said nothing," said Stamfordham, "it would be enough;" and
Rendel's heart glowed within him as their eyes met and the compact was
ratified. "By the way, Rendel, there was one thing more I wanted to say
to you. There will probably be a vacancy at Stoke Newton before long;
aren't you going into the House?"

"Some time," said Rendel. "When I get a chance."

"Well, there is going to be a chance now," said Stamfordham. "Old
Crawley is going to resign. I hear it from private sources; the world
doesn't know it yet. It is a safe Imperialist seat, and in our part of
the world."

"I should like very much to try," said Rendel, forcing himself to speak
quietly.

"Suppose you write to our committee down there?" said Stamfordham. "That
is, when you have done your more pressing business--I mean mine."

"That shall come before everything else," Rendel said. "I will do it at
this moment."

He turned quickly back into his study after Stamfordham had left him,
and unlocked and threw up the revolving cover of the writing-table
hastily, for fear that something should have happened to the paper on
which the destinies of the civilised world were hanging. There it was,
safe in his keeping, his and nobody else's. He took it in his hand and
for a moment walked up and down the room, unable to control himself,
trying to realise the tremendous change in the aspect of his fortunes
that had taken place in the last half-hour. Then he had seemed to
himself