affair, which had seemed so forgotten, everybody had a detail to tell
concerning it, his own views to set forth, or those of some shrewd friend
to repeat. That night the taverns in the town were full of it, and at
many a supper table the story was told over again. As for Japhet, he
dropped in at Mr. Foster's and told what he had done, complaining
bitterly of how Sir Winterton had treated him, declaring that he had been
prepared to listen to any explanation, almost to take Sir Winterton's
simple word, but that he was not to be bullied in a matter in which his
own conscience and the rights of the constituency were plainly and deeply
involved. Mr. Foster said as little as he could.

"It won't do for me to take any part," he remarked. "I'm too closely
connected with Mr. Quisante, and I know he wouldn't wish to enter into
such a matter."

"I'm not acting as a party man," said Japhet Williams, "and this isn't a
party matter. But a plain answer to a plain question isn't much to ask,
and I mean to ask for it till I get it, or know the reason why I can't."

Dim rumours of a "row" at Sir Winterton's meeting reached the Bull that
night, brought by Jimmy Benyon, who had been at a minor meeting across
the railway bridge among the railway men. Somebody had brought up an old
scandal, and the candidate's answer had not given satisfaction. The
ladies showed no curiosity; Quisante, very tired, lay on the sofa doing
nothing, neither reading, nor talking, nor sleeping. His eyes were fixed
on the ceiling, he seemed hardly to hear what Jimmy said, and he also
asked no questions. So Jimmy, dismissing the matter from his mind, went
to bed, leaving Quisante still lying there, with wide-open eyes.

There he lay a long while alone; once or twice he frowned, once or twice
he smiled. Was he thinking over the opportunity that offered, and the
instrument that presented itself? What chances might lie in Sir
Winterton's dogged honour and tender sensitiveness on the one hand, and
on the other in that conscience of little Japhet's, stronger now in its
alliance with hurt pride and outraged self-importance! And nobody could
say that Quisante himself had had any part in it; he had spoken to nobody
except Foster, and he had told Foster most plainly that he would have
nothing to do with such a matter. There he lay, making his case, the case
he could tell to all the world, the case Foster also could tell, the case
that both Foster and he could and would tel