know. The man's a Radical and a Lord!
The combination satisfies their democratic judgments and their snobbish
instincts at the same time. People forget to count the snob in the
democrat, but he's there all the same, as in most Englishmen. A veneer of
snobbishness over solid independence. That's our characteristic. Lord
Cranston! Can't you hear their tongues licking it? Luckily, there are
things against him. He's a carpet-bagger like yourself, and he's been
more than once separated from his wife. His fault, too--once it was an
opera dancer. I've got up the facts. He only joined his wife again a few
months ago--probably for the purpose of this election.'

Mr. Burl pulled out a pocket-book, and began to turn over the leaves in
search of the damning details, when Drake interrupted him. 'You don't
expect me to discuss the man's private life?'

'My dear Drake, do be practical. It's no use being finicking. The
essential thing is to win the seat.'

'Whatever the price?'

'Look here; I am not asking you to do anything so crude as to make
platform speeches about the man's disgraceful conduct to his wife.' Mr.
Burl assumed the look of a Rhadamanthus. 'But'--and again he relaxed into
the tactician--'you might take a strong social line on morals generally,
and the domestic hearth, and that sort of thing.' He looked critically at
Drake. 'You're one of the few chaps I know who look as if they could do
that and make people believe they really mean it.'

He finally discredited his advice by adding impressibly, 'You needn't
go into the instance at all, you know. They'll understand what you're
alluding to, never fear'; and Drake flatly refused to dance into
Parliament to that tune, however persuasively Mr. Burl played upon
the pipes.

The hotel at which Drake put up was situated in a short broad street
which ran from the Market Square. From the balcony of his sitting-room on
the first floor he could see the market sheds at the end of the street to
his left. The opposite end was closed in by the Town Hall, which was
built upon an ancient gate of the town. From Drake's windows you got a
glimpse through the archway of green fields and trees. Almost facing him
was a second hotel on the opposite side of the street, the 'Yellow Boar.'
It was tricked out, he noticed, with the colours of his opponent. While
he was standing at the window an open carriage turned out of the
market-place, and drove up to the 'Yellow Boar.' Lord Cranston got dow