“Arre we to onderrstand,” boomed the voice of the inevitable fanatic, “that the carrgo of GIN is yet aboorrd...?”
“Hey! what?” said Demaine over his shoulder, with a startled air.
“Get up and ask for notice,” whispered a colleague very hurriedly. “Get up and say ‘I must ask for notice of that question.’ Say ‘I must ask for notice of that question.’ Get up quick.”
Demaine got up, took hold of the box, turned his back upon the questioner and looking full at the harmless and startled Opposition said, not without menace:
“I must ask for a notice of that question”—and sat down.
There were a few more sympathetic cheers and all was well. The Warden of the Court of Dowry was launched upon his great career.
Meanwhile, beyond the Central Hall, Lord Repton of Giggleswick was rising for the first time among his Peers.
That House also was full and was prepared to give the spare towering figure and the stoical face a sympathetic hearing, for the recognition of a man who had served his country so faithfully and so well and who had recently suffered a temporary malady of so distressing a nature was universal and sincere.
The House of Lords knows a Man.
Lord Repton, even as plain Sir Charles, had always been an admirable parliamentary speaker: not only quick at debate but with a grave and lucid delivery which, coupled with his intimate grasp of detail and the sense of balanced judgment behind his tone, made his one of the most effective voices in our public life.