“It will mean, I’m afraid, a by-election.” The honeyed voice of Mr. Wilberforce Williams had the mellifluity that endeared him to every journalist in the land. “And—don’t let us deceive ourselves—my dear sir—a stiff one. To be frank—to be perfectly frank—the member for Blackhampton will not be exactly persona gratissima in Universe Building.”
To the young Lothair, that was the amazing part of the whole matter. He had no claim to subtlety of mind, but he was not a fool. What was in the wind? Well he knew that for the member for Blackhampton to be given the Home Office was tantamount to Slippery Sam throwing down the gage of battle to the U. P.
“Take a little time for your answer, my dear sir.” Such linked sweetness must have seemed a little excessive in any one not the prime minister. “Take twenty-four—forty-eight—yes, forty-eight hours—shall we say? In the meantime, may I rely—of course I may—such a superfluous question—on your absolute discretion?”
John Endor gave that unnecessary assurance.
“You see, my dear sir, do you not?”—the smile of Slippery Sam was deliciously vulpine. “As soon as they get wind of this in Universe Building, the Great General Staff will be in the field with a hundred fully mobilized army corps—before even our dear Mr. Bendish can apply for the Chiltern Hundreds.”
XXXII
FORTY-EIGHT hours were indeed necessary for John Endor to make up his mind. A big decision confronted him. Even if he were given the Home Office on his own terms, and he had promptly decided that he would take it on no other, it was certain that, with the full weight of the U. P. against him, he would have a terrific fight to hold his seat. Moreover, if he managed to retain it, and faced with “the machine,” the chances were that he would not, within a few months a general election was due, and he would have to fight again.
Brief study of the tactical position, combined with a little analysis of Slippery Sam’s fair-seeming offer soon brought him perilously near the truth. A by-election in such a constituency as East Blackhampton would be a ballon d’essai, a try-out, a testing of the ice. The astute personage who dangled this lure of office would risk little. If a tyro, a comparative free lance, new to high places, failed to win East Blackhampton, he would be dropped like a hot coal. The rebuff would be accepted gracefully and an orthodox coupon-swallower, a “safe” man put up in his stead. Things would go on as they were; and the noble company of time-servers would trim their sails for the coming dissolution in the old happy way. But as Endor clearly saw, failure for him in such circumstances was likely to mean the end of his political career.
Was he justified in taking such a tremendous risk? He put the case squarely to Helen; it was but fair and right that he should do so. And she, at least, did not hesitate. Her faith in him was complete. Let him follow his star. The chance of his life had come. Let him show himself worthy of it.
His own instincts were knightly, but he could not rid his mind of a secret fear of Slippery Sam. How far would it be possible for John Endor to serve under the official banner of the most accomplished trimmer in the land? Finally, before deciding the matter one way or the other, he determined to see what terms he could make with this illustrious chieftain.