ain, and I wanted to hear what sort of sermon the
Dean--our Dean, not the Dean of the cathedral--would preach on such an
occasion. He was advertised to preach, as "Chaplain General of the
Loyalists." These were three good reasons for not giving Sir Samuel
Clithering the few minutes he demanded. I had, also, a fourth. I had
held, as I have related, previous communications with Clithering. I
suspected him of having more peerages in his pocket for distribution,
and I did not want to undertake any further negotiations like that
with Conroy. He might even--and I particularly disliked the idea--be
empowered to offer our Dean an English bishopric.

I kept this last reason to myself, but I stated the other three fully
to Sir Samuel. He seemed dissatisfied.

"Everybody's going to church," he complained. "I can't get Lord Moyne.
I can't get Babberly. I can't get Malcolmson, and it's really most
important that I should see some one. Going to church is all very
well--"

"As a leading Nonconformist," I said.

"Free Churchman," said Sir Samuel.

"I beg your pardon, Free Churchman. You ought not to object to people
going to church. I've always understood that the Free Churchmen are
honourably distinguished from other Christians by their respect for
the practice of Sunday worship."

"Of course, I don't object to people going to church. I should be
there myself if it were not that--"

He hesitated. I thought he might be searching for an appropriate text
of Scripture so I helped him.

"Your ass," I said, "has fallen into a pit, and you want--"

This was evidently not exactly the text he wanted. He seemed
astonished when I quoted it.

"Ass!" he said. "What ass?"

"The Government," I said. "It is in rather a hole, isn't it?"

"Capital," said Clithering, laughing without the smallest appearance
of mirth, "capital! I didn't catch the point for a moment, but I do
now. My ass has fallen into a pit. You put the matter in a nutshell,
Lord Kilmore. I don't mind confessing that a pit of rather an
inconvenient size does lie in front of us. I feel sure that you, as a
humane man, won't refuse your help in the charitable work of helping
to get us out."

Marion came downstairs in her best hat. It was not for nothing that
Bob Power and I and the running volunteer had struggled with her
trunk. Her frock, also, was charming.

"Your daughter," said Clithering. "Now my dear young lady, you must
spare your father to me for an hour. Affairs