hey walked off, talking. And, of course, I never saw no
more of 'em. But when I saw your paper this morning, sir, and that
picture in it, I said to myself 'That's the man I sat next to in that
there hall at the House of Commons!' Oh, there's no doubt of it, sir!"

"And supposing you saw a photograph of the tall gentleman with the grey
beard?" suggested Spargo. "Could you recognize him from that?"

"Make no doubt of it, sir," answered Mr. Webster. "I observed him
particular."

Spargo rose, and going over to a cabinet, took from it a thick volume,
the leaves of which he turned over for several minutes.

"Come here, if you please, Mr. Webster," he said.

The farmer went across the room.

"There is a full set of photographs of members of the present House of
Commons here," said Spargo. "Now, pick out the one you saw. Take your
time--and be sure."

He left his caller turning over the album and went back to Breton.

"There!" he whispered. "Getting nearer--a bit nearer--eh?"

"To what?" asked Breton. "I don't see--"

A sudden exclamation from the farmer interrupted Breton's remark.

"This is him, sir!" answered Mr. Webster. "That's the gentleman--know
him anywhere!"

The two young men crossed the room. The farmer was pointing a stubby
finger to a photograph, beneath which was written _Stephen Aylmore,
Esq., M.P. for Brookminster_.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MR. AYLMORE

Spargo, keenly observant and watchful, felt, rather than saw, Breton
start; he himself preserved an imperturbable equanimity. He gave a mere
glance at the photograph to which Mr. Webster was pointing.

"Oh!" he said. "That he?"

"That's the gentleman, sir," replied Webster. "Done to the life, that
is. No difficulty in recognizing of that, Mr. Spargo."

"You're absolutely sure?" demanded Spargo. "There are a lot of men in
the House of Commons, you know, who wear beards, and many of the beards
are grey."

But Webster wagged his head.

"That's him, sir!" he repeated. "I'm as sure of that as I am that my
name's William Webster. That's the man I saw talking to him whose
picture you've got in your paper. Can't say no more, sir."

"Very good," said Spargo. "I'm much obliged to you. I'll see Mr.
Aylmore. Leave me your address in London, Mr. Webster. How long do you
remain in town?"

"My address is the Beachcroft Hotel, Bloomsbury, sir, and I shall be
there for another week," answered the farmer. "Hope I've been of some
use, Mr. Spargo. As I sa