"What was that you said just now?" he remarked, "that you were not aware of having an enemy in the world? My dear sir, there was never a more extraordinary delusion. I should seriously doubt whether in the whole of the United Kingdom there is a man who has more. I know myself of a million or so who would welcome the news of your death to-morrow. I know of a select few who have opened, and will open their newspapers to-morrow, and for the next few days, in the hope of seeing your obituary notice."
A light commenced to break in upon Mannering. He looked towards his companion incredulously.
"You mean political opponents!" he exclaimed. "Is that what you are driving at all the time?"
The man laughed softly.
"My friend," he said—"excuse me, Mr. Mannering—you remind me irresistibly of Punch's cartoon last week—the ostrich politician with his head in the sand. You have thrust yours very deep down indeed, when you talk of political opponents. Do you know what they call you in the North, sir?"
"No!"
"The enemy of the people! It isn't a pleasant title, is it?"
"It is a false one!" Mannering declared, with a little note of passion quivering in his tone.
"It is as true and certain as the judgment of God!" his companion answered, with almost lightning-like rapidity.
There was a moment's silence. They passed a lamp-post, and Mannering, turning his head, scrutinized the other's features closely.