Horace Williams, with an obvious effort, got
up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Brace up, old chap," he said. "You made a blame good fight for us, and
we'll do the same for you another day."

"However, gentlemen," the young man gathered himself up to say, "I
believe I understand the situation. You are my friends and this is your
advice. We must save the seat. I'll see Carter. If I can get anything
out of him to make me think he'll go straight on the scheme to save the
Empire"--he smiled faintly--"when it comes to a vote, I'll withdraw in
his favour at the convention. Horace here will think up something for
me--any old lie will do, I suppose? In any case, of course, I withdraw."

He took his hat, and they all got up, startled a little at the quick
and simple close of the difficult scene they had anticipated. Horace
Williams offered his hand.

"Shake, Lorne," he said, and the other two, coming nearer, followed his
example.

"Why, yes," said Lorne.

He left them with a brief excuse, and they stood together in a moment's
silence, three practical politicians who had delivered themselves from a
dangerous network involving higher things.

"Dash these heart-to-heart talks," said Bingham irritably, "it's the
only thing to do, but why the devil didn't he want something out of it?
I had that Registrarship in my inside pocket."

"If anybody likes to kick me round the room," remarked Horace Williams
with depression, "I have no very strong objection."

"And now," Mr Farquharson said with a sigh, "we understand it's got
to be Carter. I suppose I'm too old a man to do jockey for a
three-year-old, but I own I've enjoyed the ride."

Lorne Murchison went out into the companionship of Main Street, the new
check in his fortunes hanging before him. We may imagine that it hung
heavily; we may suppose that it cut off the view. As Bingham would have
said, he was "up against it" and that, when one is confidently treading
the straight path to accomplishment, is a dazing experience. He was
up against it, yet already he had recoiled far enough to consider it;
already he was adapting his heart, his nerves, and his future to it.
His heart took it greatly, told him he had not yet force enough for the
business he had aspired to, but gave him a secret assurance. Another
time he would find more strength and show more cunning; he would not
disdain the tools of diplomacy and desirability, he would dream no more
of short cuts in great politic