"Surely," he suggested, "the House of Lords remains?"
"Without a doubt, your lordship," Mr. Wadham assented, "but it is of no use to us in the present instance. The judge of the Supreme Court—this is, by-the-by, our third appeal—has delivered a final decision."
The Marquis seemed vaguely puzzled.
"The House of Lords," he persisted, "remains surely a Court of Appeal for members of my order whose claims to consideration are not always fully recognised in the democracy of the common law court."
"I fear," Mr. Wadham replied, with a little cough, "that the House of Lords is supposed to have other functions."
"Other functions?"
"In an indirect sort of fashion," Mr. Wadham continued, "it is supposed to assist in the government of the country."
"God bless my soul!" the Marquis exclaimed.
There was a queer, intangible silence. The lawyer was quite aware that a storm was brewing, but as his distinguished client never lost his temper or showed annoyance in any of the ordinary plebeian ways, he was conscious of some curiosity as to what might happen next.
"You mean to say, then," the Marquis continued, "that for the rest of my days, and in the days of those who may succeed me, that edifice, that cottage which for generations has sheltered one of the family retainers, is to remain the property of—of an alien?"