h his old party at last, but it
was strange that when this result was announced, and Medland's followers
settled sturdily in their seats to endure the celebration of the
triumph, the celebration did not come. There was hardly a cheer, and
Medland himself, whom the result seemed hardly to have roused, woke with
a start to the unwonted silence. It struck to his heart: it seemed like
a tribute of respect to a dead enemy. But he rose and briefly said that
on the next day an announcement of the Government's intentions would be
made by himself--he paused here a moment--or one of his colleagues. He
sat down again. The sitting was at an end, and the House adjourned.
Members began to go out, but, as the Premier rose, they drew back and
left a path for him down the middle of the House. As he went, one or two
thrust out their hands to him, and one honest fellow shouted in his
rough voice--he was a labouring-man member--"You're not done yet,
Jimmy!"

The shout touched him, he lifted his head, looked round with a smile,
and, just raising again the hat he had put on as he neared the door,
took Norburn's arm and passed out of the House.

When Sir Robert followed, he found the Chief Justice waiting for him,
and they walked off together. For a long while neither spoke, but at
last Sir Robert said peevishly,

"I wish this confounded thing hadn't happened. It spoils our win."

The Chief Justice nodded, and whistled a bar or two of some sad ditty.

"I'm glad she's dead, poor soul, Perry," he said.

"There's the girl," said Sir Robert.

"Ay, there's the girl."

They did not speak again till they were just parting, when the Chief
Justice broke out,

"Why the deuce couldn't the fellow take his beastly photograph with
him?"

"It's very absurd," answered Sir Robert, "but I feel just the same about
it."

"I'm hanged if you're not a gentleman, Perry," said the Chief Justice,
and he hastened away, blowing his nose.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THREE AGAINST THE WORLD.

Though the House had risen early that evening, the Central Club sat very
late. The smoking-room was crowded, and tongues wagged briskly. Every
man had a hare to hunt; no one lacked irrefragable arguments to prove
what must happen; no one knew exactly what was going to happen. The
elder men gathered round Puttock and Jewell, and listened to a
demonstration that the Premier's public life was at an end; the younger
rallied Coxon, whose premature stateliness sometimes invi