endance at the
House, and at any moment might blow the Government sky-high. His
colleagues were detailed in relays to watch him. One would hale him to
luncheon, and keep him till question time was over. Another would
insist on taking him for a motor ride, which would end in a break-down
about Brentford. Invitations to dinner were showered upon him, and
Cargill, who had been unknown in society, found the whole social
machinery of his party set at work to make him a lion. The result was
that he was prevented from speaking in public, but given far too much
encouragement to talk in private. He talked incessantly, before, at,
and after dinner, and he did enormous harm. He was horribly clever,
too, and usually got the best of an argument, so that various eminent
private Liberals had their tempers ruined by his dialectic. In his
rich and unabashed accent--he had long discarded his
Edinburgh-English--he dissected their arguments and ridiculed their
character. He had once been famous for his soapy manners: now he was
as rough as a Highland stot.

Things could not go on in this fashion: the risk was too great. It
was just a fortnight, I think, after the Caerlaverock dinner-party,
when the Prime Minister resolved to bring matters to a head. He could
not afford to wait for ever on a return of sanity. He consulted
Caerlaverock, and it was agreed that Vennard and Cargill should be
asked, or rather commanded to dine on the following evening at
Caerlaverock House. Mulross, whose sanity was not suspected, and whose
ankle was now well again, was also invited, as were three other members
of the Cabinet and myself as amicus curiae. It was understood that
after dinner there would be a settling-up with the two rebels. Either
they should recant and come to heel, or they should depart from the
fold to swell the wolf-pack of the Opposition. The Prime Minister did
not conceal the loss which his party would suffer, but he argued very
sensibly that anything was better than a brace of vipers in its bosom.

I have never attended a more lugubrious function. When I arrived I
found Caerlaverock, the Prime Minister, and the three other members of
the Cabinet standing round a small fire in attitudes of nervous
dejection. I remember it was a raw wet evening, but the gloom out of
doors was sunshine compared to the gloom within. Caerlaverock's
viceregal air had sadly altered. The Prime Minister, once famous for
his genial manners, wa