knew little or nothing—seemed hardly to be aware that there was a member of Parliament for Silverbridge, and declared himself to be indifferent as to the parliamentary character of the borough. But at last he melted a little, and by degrees, over a glass of hot brandy-and-water with the agent at the Palliser Arms, confessed to a shade of an opinion that the return of
Mr. Lopez for the borough would not be disagreeable to some person or persons who did not live quite a hundred miles away. The instructions given by Lopez to his agent were of the most cautious kind. The agent was merely to feel the ground, make a few inquiries, and do nothing. His client did not intend to stand unless he could see the way to almost certain success with very little outlay. But the agent, perhaps liking the job, did a little outstep his employer’s orders.
Mr. Sprugeon, when the frost of his first modesty had been thawed, introduced the agent to
Mr. Sprout, the maker of cork soles, and
Mr. Sprugeon and
Mr. Sprout between them had soon decided that
Mr. Ferdinand Lopez should be run for the borough as the “Castle” candidate. “The Duke won’t interfere,” said Sprugeon; “and, of course, the Duke’s man of business can’t do anything openly;—but the Duke’s people will know.” Then
Mr. Sprout told the agent that there was already another candidate in the field, and in a whisper communicated the gentleman’s name. When the agent got back to London, he gave Lopez to understand that he must certainly put himself forward. The borough expected him. Sprugeon and Sprout considered themselves pledged to bring him forward and support him—on behalf of the Castle. Sprugeon was quite sure that the Castle influence was predominant. The Duke’s name had never been mentioned at Silverbridge—hardly even that of the Duchess. Since the Duke’s declaration “The Castle” had taken the part which the old Duke used to play. The agent was quite sure that no one could get in for Silverbridge without having the Castle on his side. No doubt the Duke’s declaration had had the ill effect of bringing up a competitor, and thus of causing expense. That could not now be helped. The agent was of opinion that the Duke had had no alternative. The agent hinted that times were changing, and that though dukes were still dukes, and could still exercise ducal influences, they were driven by these changes to act in an altered form. The proclamation had been especially necessary because the Duke was Prime Minister. The agent did not think that
Mr. Lopez should be in the least angry with the Duke. Everything would be done that the Castle could do, and Lopez would be no doubt returned—though, unfortunately, not without some expense. How much would it cost? Any accurate answer to such a question would be impossible, but probably about £600. It might be £800;—could not possibly be above £1,000. Lopez winced as he heard these sums named, but he did not decline the contest.
Then the name of the opposition candidate was whispered to Lopez. It was Arthur Fletcher! Lopez started, and asked some questions as to Mr. Fletcher’s interest in the neighbourhood. The Fletchers were connected with the De Courcys, and as soon as the declaration of the Duke had been made known, the De Courcy interest had aroused itself, and had invited that rising young barrister, Arthur Fletcher, to stand for the borough on strictly conservative views. Arthur Fletcher had acceded, and a printed declaration of his purpose and political principles had been just published. “I have beaten him once,” said Lopez to himself, “and I think I can beat him again.”
XXX
“Yes;—A Lie!”
“So you went to Happerton after all,” said Lopez to his ally, Mr. Sextus Parker. “You couldn’t believe me when I told you the money was all right! What a cur you are!”
“That’s right;—abuse me.”
“Well, it was horrid. Didn’t I tell you that it must necessarily injure me with the house? How are two fellows to get on together unless they can put some trust in each other? Even if I did run you into a difficulty, do you really think I’m ruffian enough to tell you that the money was there if it were untrue?”
Sexty looked like a cur and felt like a cur, as he was being thus abused. He was not angry with his friend for calling him bad names, but only anxious to excuse himself. “I was out of sorts,” he said, “and so d⸺d hippish I didn’t know what I was about.”
“Brandy-and-soda!” suggested Lopez.
“Perhaps a little of that;—though, by Jove, it isn’t often I do that kind of thing. I don’t know a fellow who works harder for his wife and children than I do. But when one sees such things all round one—a fellow utterly smashed here who had a string of hunters yesterday, and another fellow buying a house in Piccadilly and pulling it down because it isn’t big enough, who was contented with a little box at Hornsey last summer, one doesn’t quite know how to keep one’s legs.”
“If you want to learn a lesson look at the two men, and see where the difference lies. The one has had some heart about him, and the other has been a coward.”
Parker scratched his head, balanced himself on the hind legs of his stool, and tacitly acknowledged the truth of all that his enterprising friend said to him. “Has old Wharton come down well?” at last he asked.
“I have never said a word to old Wharton about money,” Lopez replied—“except as to the cost of this election I was telling you of.”
“And he wouldn’t do anything in that?”
“He doesn’t approve of the thing itself. I don’t doubt but that the old gentleman and I shall understand each other before long.”
“You’ve got the length of his foot.”
“But I don’t mean to drive him. I can get along without
