But there was still Demaine,—or rather, there was still no Demaine. And there was still Repton, mad—mad—mad!
Between Dolly and the awful unstable equilibrium of the modern world, between him and a cosmic explosion, was nothing but the four walls round Repton, Lady Repton who bored him, and the sagacity of Edward. It was a quarter to three, a time when meaner men must wend them to the House of Commons. He also wended. He was the shepherd and he must look after his sheep.
That august assembly was astonished to perceive the Premier positively present upon the front bench during the process of that appeal to the Almighty which precedes the business of the day. But that did not get into the papers:—there is a limit!
As he knelt there he knew that a man whom he could not disobey was about to ask a question of which he had given private notice. He feared it much, he more feared those supplementary questions which are so useless to the scheme of our polity but which buzz like unnecessary midges round the cooking of the national food. And when prayers were over and questions begun, not an inquiry as to an Admiralty contract, not a simple demand for information from the Home Secretary as to the incarceration of a beggar or the torture of some insignificant pauper, but put his heart into his mouth.
Mr. Maloney’s long cross-examination on the matter of the postmistress at Crosshaurigh gave him a little breathing space. They couldn’t bring Repton or Demaine in on that! But there was an ominous question about a wreck, and who should answer it? He had indeed arranged that the answer should proceed from the Treasury, but the clouds were lowering.
The question came as mild as milk: it was concerned with the wreck which still banged and battered about on the Sovereign Shoals; it had been put down days before, and the chief legal adviser of the Crown rose solemnly to reply.
“My right honourable friend has asked me to answer this question. He has no further information beyond that which he has already furnished to the honourable gentleman, but every inquiry is being made and papers will shortly be laid upon the table of the House.”
The fanatic rose, the inevitable fanatic, towering from the benches, and thundered his supplementary demand: What had been done with the gin? He was told to give notice of the question.
For three dreadful seconds the Prime Minister feared some consequence. His fears were well grounded. A gentleman rose and spoke from the darkness under the gallery and desired to know why the Warden of the Court of Dowry was not present to deal with matters concerning his Department? He would have been reproved by the Chair had not the young and popular Prime Minister taken it upon himself to rise and reply.
“It is the first time,” he said, “and I hope it will be the last, that I have heard the illness of a colleague made the excuse for such an interruption.”