a sneering smile,

"I suppose there's nothing against this admirable gentleman?"

Old Foster started a little, recollecting perhaps that fine passage in
the speech which opened the campaign, the passage which defined the broad
public lines of the contest and loftily disclaimed any personal attack or
personal animosity. But the next moment he smiled in answer, smiled
thoughtfully, as he tapped his teeth with the handle of his pen-knife.
Quisante sat puffing at a cigar and looking straight at him with
observant searching eyes.

"Anything against him, eh?" asked Foster in a ruminative tone.

"They've been ready enough to ask where I come from, and how I live, and
so on."

"They know all that about Sir Winterton, you see, sir."

"Yes, confound them." The keen eyes were still on Foster; the fat old man
shifted his position a little and ceased to meet their regard. "We don't
want to be beaten, you know," said Quisante.

A silence of some minutes followed. Quisante, rose and strolled off to a
table, where he began to sort papers; Foster sat where he was, frowning a
little, with his mouth pursed up. He stole a glance at Quisante's back, a
curious enquiring glance.

"I know nothing about the rights of it one way or the other," he said at
last. "But some of the men up at the mills and in my place still remember
Tom Sinnett's affair. Only the other night, as Sir Winterton drove by,
one of them shouted out, 'Where's Susy Sinnett?'"

Quisante went on sorting papers and did not turn round.

"Who the deuce is Susy Sinnett?" he asked indifferently, with a laugh.

"It was about five years ago--before Sir Winterton's split with the
Liberals. Tom was a keeper in Sir Winterton's employ, and Sir Winterton
charged him with netting game and sending it to London on his own
account." Foster's narrative ceased and he looked again at his
candidate's back. The papers rustled and the cigar smoke mounted to the
ceiling. "Well?" said Quisante.

"Tom was found guilty at Sessions; but in the dock he declared Sir
Winterton had trumped up the charge to shut his mouth."

"What about?"

"Well, because he'd found Sir Winterton dangling after Susy, and
threatened to break his head if he found him there again." He paused,
Quisante made no comment. "Tom got nine months, and when he came out all
the family emigrated to Manitoba."

After a short pause, filled by the arrangement of papers, Quisante
observed, "That must have cost money. He'd sav