"I didn't. He was in the Government Lobby."
Cynthia's face contracted with pain. A low moan burst from her. "He was actually voting against you!"
"Yes."
Harry added reluctantly:
"Our revolt killed him." Cynthia sat down in the chair.
"Tell me everything, will you, Harry?" she entreated, and thus the story was told her.
"The Whips got at Challoner. You know Hamlin, don't you? But you don't know his methods, Cynthia. He doesn't bully you if you revolt. He doesn't threaten. He takes you affectionately by the arm and makes you feel a beast. His round brown eyes survey you with a gentle and wistful regret. You leave him, convinced that he personally will be dreadfully hurt if you vote against the government. You are glad to be rid of him as you are glad to be rid of a man whom you have injured; and within the hour he is at your elbow again, pursuing the same insidious, amicable strategy. That's how he worked on Challoner, and Challoner was not the man either to withstand him, or to tell us boldly that he was going to--"--"rat" was on the tip of his tongue, but Rames caught the word back and substituted "change his mind." "So, do you see, he stayed with us to the last minute. It was arranged that the division should be taken at eleven. As soon as the Speaker rose to put the question, Challoner, who had been standing at the bar of the House slipped out through the lobby and down the stairs to a little smoking-room on the opposite side of the passage to the big strangers' smoking-room. That room is very often quite deserted. Few people, indeed, use it at any time. In a corner of that room he sat behind a newspaper all of the ten minutes during which the division bells were ringing."
"To avoid meeting any of you?" asked Cynthia.
"Yes, I suppose so."
"But how do you know he was there?"