We must get rid of
this ridiculous Radical 'tail.' They think they have the whip-hand of
us; well, we have got to prove that we can do very well without them.
They are a collection of confounded, treacherous, complacent prigs, but
they have no grit in them, and will come to heel if we tackle them
firmly. I respect an honest fanatic, but I do not respect those
sentiment-mongers. They have the impudence to say that the country is
with them. I tell you it is rank nonsense. If you take a strong hand
with them, you'll double your popularity, and we'll come back next
year with an increased majority. Cargill agrees with me."

The Prime Minister looked grave. "I am not prepared to discuss any
policy of ostracism. What you call our 'tail' is a vital section of
our party. Their creed may be one-sided, but it is none the less part
of our mandate from the people."

"I want a leader who governs as well as reigns," said Vennard. "I
believe in discipline, and you know as well as I do that the Rump is
infernally out of hand."

"They are not the only members who fail in discipline."

Vennard grinned. "I suppose you mean Cargill and myself. But we are
following the central lines of British policy. We are on your side,
and we want to make your task easier."

Cargill suddenly began to laugh. "I don't want any ostracism. Leave
them alone, and Vennard and I will undertake to give them such a time
in the House that they will wish they had never been born. We'll make
them resign in batches."

Dinner was announced, and, laughing uproariously, the two rebels went
arm-in-arm into the dining-room.

Cargill was in tremendous form. He began to tell Scotch stories,
memories of his old Parliament House days. He told them admirably, with
a raciness of idiom which I had thought beyond him. They were long
tales, and some were as broad as they were long, but Mr. Cargill
disarmed criticism. His audience, rather scandalised at the start,
were soon captured, and political troubles were forgotten in
old-fashioned laughter. Even the Prime Minister's anxious face relaxed.

This lasted till the entree, the famous Caerlaverock curry.

As I have said, I was not in the secret, and did not detect the
transition. As I partook of the dish I remember feeling a sudden
giddiness and a slight nausea. The antidote, to those who had not
taken the drug, must have been, I suppose, in the nature of a mild
emetic. A mist seemed to obscure the fac