“Noble!” said the Marquess.
But who was the leader to be? Sir Berdmore frankly confessed that he had none to propose; and the Viscount and the Baron were quite silent.
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed the Marquess, “Gentlemen! there is a man who could do our bidding,” The eyes of every guest were fixed on the haranguing host.
“Gentlemen, fill your glasses, I give you our leader, Mr. Frederick Cleveland!”
“Cleveland”’ every one exclaimed. A glass of claret fell from Lord Courtown’s hand; Lord Beaconsfield stopped as he was about to fill his glass, and stood gaping at the Marquess with the decanter in his hand; and Sir Berdmore stared on the table, as men do when something unexpected and astounding has occurred at dinner which seems past all their management.
“Cleveland!” exclaimed the guests.
“I should as soon have expected you to have given us Lucifer!” said Lord Courtown.
“Or the present Secretary!” said Lord Beaconsfield.
“Or yourself,” said Sir Berdmore.
“And does any one maintain that Frederick Cleveland is not capable of driving out a much stronger Government than he will have to cope with?” demanded the Marquess with a rather fierce air.