information of that sort?"

"It was a close shave. Luckily the Whips saved us. They got the
Secretary out of the House and rushed him to the British Museum. When he
got back he said that he would answer the question a month from Friday.
We got a great burst of cheers, but it was a close thing. But stop, I
must speak at once with Powers. My despatch box, yes, here it is. Now
where is young Powers? There is work for him to do at once."

"Mr. Powers is in the conservatory with Angela," said Lady Elphinspoon.

"With Angela!" exclaimed Sir John, while a slight shade of displeasure
appeared upon his brow. "With Angela again! Do you think it quite
proper, my dear, that Powers should be so constantly with Angela?"

"John," said his wife, "you forget, I think, who Mr. Powers is. I am
sure that Angela knows too well what is due to her rank, and to herself,
to consider Mr. Powers anything more than an instructive companion. And
I notice that, since Mr. Powers has been your secretary, Angela's mind
is much keener. Already the girl has a wonderful grasp on foreign
policy. Only yesterday I heard her asking the Prime Minister at luncheon
whether we intend to extend our Senegambian protectorate over the
Fusees. He was delighted."

"Oh, very well, very well," said Sir John. Then he rang a bell for a
manservant.

"Ask Mr. Powers," he said, "to be good enough to attend me in the
library."

CHAPTER II

Angela Elphinspoon stood with Perriton Powers among the begonias of the
conservatory. The same news which had so agitated Sir John lay heavy on
both their hearts.

"Will the Wazoo rise?" asked Angela, clasping her hands before her,
while her great eyes sought the young man's face and found it. "Oh, Mr.
Powers! Tell me, will they rise? It seems too dreadful to contemplate.
Do you think the Wazoo will rise?"

"It is only too likely," said Powers. They stood looking into one
another's eyes, their thoughts all on the Wazoo.

Angelina Elphinspoon, as she stood there against the background of the
begonias, made a picture that a painter, or even a plumber, would have
loved. Tall and typically English in her fair beauty, her features, in
repose, had something of the hauteur and distinction of her mother, and
when in motion they recalled her father.

Perriton Powers was even taller than Angela. The splendid frame and
stern features of Sir John's secretary made him a striking figure. Yet
he was, quite frankly, sprung from the pe