ngst the bowels of the vessel, Mr. Tooting knew the weak timbers
better than the Honourable Hilary Vanes who thought the ship as sound as
the day Augustus Flint had launched her. But we have got a long way from
Horatius in our imagery.

Little birds flutter around the capital, picking up what crumbs they
may. One of them, occasionally fed by that humanitarian, the Honourable
Jacob Botcher, whispered a secret that made the humanitarian knit his
brows. He was the scout that came flying (if by a burst of imagination
we can conceive the Honourable Jacob in this aerial act)--came flying to
the Consul in room Number Seven with the news that Mr. Hamilton Tooting
had been detected on two evenings slipping into the Duncan house. But
the Consul--strong man that he was--merely laughed. The Honourable
Elisha Jane did some scouting on his own account. Some people are so
small as to be repelled by greatness, to be jealous of high gifts and
power, and it was perhaps inevitable that a few of the humbler members
whom Mr. Crewe had entertained should betray his hospitality, and
misinterpret his pure motives.

It was a mere coincidence, perhaps, that after Mr. Jane's investigation
the intellectual concentration which one of the committees had bestowed
on two of Mr. Crewe's bills came to an end. These bills, it is
true, carried no appropriation, and, were, respectively, the acts to
incorporate the State Economic League and the Children's Charities
Association. These suddenly appeared in the House one morning, with
favourable recommendations, and, mirabile dicta, the end of the day saw
them through the Senate and signed by the governor. At last Mr. Crewe by
his Excellency had stamped the mark of his genius on the statute books,
and the Honourable Jacob Botcher, holding out an olive branch, took the
liberty of congratulating him.

A vainer man, a lighter character than Humphrey Crewe, would have been
content to have got something; and let it rest at that. Little Mr.
Butcher or Mr. Speaker Doby, with his sorrowful smile, guessed the iron
hand within the velvet glove of the Leith statesman; little they knew
the man they were dealing with. Once aroused, he would not be pacified
by bribes of cheap olive branches and laurels. When the proper time
came, he would fling down the gauntlet--before Rome itself, and then let
Horatius and his friends beware.

The hour has struck at last--and the man is not wanting. The French
Revolution found Napoleo