In effect his answer, when duly delivered to the prime minister was that he would accept the Office and run the gauntlet if, in the event of success, Mr. Williams would himself frame a bill to deal with the Newspaper Trust. Such a measure must be the first plank in the Government platform when he appealed to the country six months hence.
Somewhat to Mr. Endor’s surprise, the prime minister agreed to this course. Great parliamentarian as Slippery Sam undoubtedly was, with an insight almost uncanny into the workings of the minds of his chosen instruments, he had anticipated the need for some such compact, before making the offer. Indeed, John Endor’s demand came to him as a subtle reminder of his own prescience.
Mr. Williams was the last man in the world to take a leap in the dark. His plans were laid pretty deep. This picturesque young visionary, with his ancient name, his family tradition, his virile enthusiasm, was the one man in that House or out of it to sweep the whole country if the cause that nerved him were great enough.
In the considered opinion of Mr. Williams the cry Break the Newspaper Trust and Bring Down the Price of Everything was the only possible counter to the massed and entrenched forces of the enemy. At least it would rally the cruelly overburdened upper and middle classes; and conceivably it might woo sufficient of the “workers” from the spells of the U. P. to rout the Colossus with all his stunts and all his wiles.
At all events, Mr. Williams had now reached the conclusion that the yoke of Saul Hartz was intolerable. The question of China was the final straw that had broken the back of the camel. In his own good time he would try a fall with the U. P. Sooner or later it would have to be. His chains had grown unbearable. If he failed, rather than endure the ignominy of serving such a tyrant, he would retire from politics. If he succeeded, politics once again might offer a career for reasonably honest men.
In any event, nothing could have shown a more statesmanlike grasp of the amazingly complex conditions of the time than his choice of John Endor as the prophet of the new gospel—Down with the U. P.
XXXIII
BEFORE plunging into the fray at Blackhampton, Endor did a bold thing. He got married. A fortnight’s grace was allowed him by the Government, before the issuing of the writs; and more than one consideration urged him to turn that precious interregnum to high account.
Wyndham itself was hardly more than ten miles from Blackhampton and this he made his headquarters for the fight. Having due regard to the circumstances of the case, John felt it would be wise to get through the business of being married with the least possible delay. Moreover, an impetuous nature urged him to this course. The opposition of his mother, conceal it as she might, he knew to be strong. It would be kinder to her, therefore, to rush the matrimonial fence. And he hoped that the old lady’s mind would be distracted by the shock of events from dwelling too much on the affront to her wishes, the death of her hopes.
Again there was policy in this dispatch. Helen was going to be a great ally in the fight. An accomplished speaker, she thoroughly understood her own sex, and on the platform and in the press she had a way with her in her dealings with them. As the blushing bride of John Endor, an old and tried friend, now with his back to the wall, fighting for his political life, she would be in a position to steal a little of the enemy’s thunder. “Aunt Mittie,” “Lovely Lily Langrish,” and their like, who had proved so formidable at other Stunt elections up and down the land, must look to their laurels. Romance of a more genuine kind might invest John Endor and his new and singularly attractive American wife. And if only “they could get the real goods over” with half the skill of the U. P. the fire of several big enemy batteries was likely to be dominated.