"Oh, has he!" said Rames. "Tell him I am out."
The waiter shook his head.
"He has already told me that you are in, sir. Come, you had better see him, sir. Perhaps he's the ha'porth of tar."
"Oh, very well," said Rames. "But I tell you, William, that I am in the mood to assert my rights as a man."
"Mustn't do that, sir, until the day after to-morrow. You are only a candidate till then."
William retired. Rames fell back upon his sofa. He meant to lie there prone upon his back, even if his visitor held all the votes of Ludsey in the hollow of his hand. Then the door opened and was shut again. A little, puckish old man stood in the room, danced lightly on his feet, skipped in the air, twirled before Captain Rames's astonished eyes and finally struck an inviting attitude, both arms extended and one foot advanced, like the pictures of the quack doctors in the newspaper advertisements.
"Oh, he's out of a lunatic asylum," Captain Rames almost groaned aloud. "He won't even have a vote."
The little man skimmed forward with agility, fixing a bright and twinkling pair of eyes upon the prostrate candidate.
"How old do you think I am?" he asked, and he whirled his arms.
"You are the youngest thing I have ever seen," replied Rames with conviction. "I didn't know that people were even born as young as you are."