against hope, and,
secure of their position in the capital, flooded the country with eager
missionaries. Passion ran high, and there had been one or two disturbing
incidents. Sir Robert was refused a hearing in the Jubilee Hall; Kilshaw
had been forced to escape violence by a hasty flight, when he tried to
address a meeting in the North-East ward; and there had been something
like a free fight between the factions in Kettle Street. Captain
Heseltine stated his opinion that if Sir Robert won, there would be
"some fun" in Kirton, and was understood to mean that the Queen's Peace
would be broken. Apparently the police authorities were of the same way
of thinking, for at their request all preparations were made for calling
out the Mounted Volunteers. Lord Eynesford declared that he would stand
no nonsense, and a certain number of timid persons made arrangements to
be out of Kirton on the all-important day.

At last it came, and wore itself away in a fever of excitement. While
the poll was open there was no time to waste in quarrelling or parading,
but in the evening, when the ballot-boxes were giving up their secret,
the streets were crowded with dense throngs. The political leaders came
dropping in from the country round. Medland was away and did not return,
but Kilshaw was at the Club, and Puttock, all the local politicians, and
most other men of note; for the Club was nearly opposite the Hall, where
the crowd was thickest, and where the result would soon be proclaimed.
Just below, one Todd, a well-known mob-orator, had mounted on a large
packing-case and was exhorting the people to stand by Medland, happen
what might; the police had tried to get near him and prevent him causing
an obstruction, but his friends formed so dense a ring and offered such
resistance that the attempt was prudently abandoned, and the sound of
Mr. Todd's sweeping denunciations fell on the ears of the members as
they talked within.

"I say, Kilshaw," called Captain Heseltine, who was by the window, "if
you want to hear what you are, you'd better come here. Todd's letting
you have it."

Kilshaw lounged to the window and put his head out, smiling scornfully.

"A lot of loafers and thieves," he remarked.

The crowd saw him. He was the especial object of their anger, ever since
his share in Benyon's career had become public. He was greeted with an
angry yell; the orator, seizing the occasion, shook a huge fist at him.
Kilshaw laughed in reply, hol