“You can’t ride both horses, my boy.” Sir Munt poised oyster the second. “You’ve got to make up your mind to one on ’em. If you want war you’ll vote for this little Colonial Snot.”—Sensation!—“If you don’t want war you’ll vote for John Endor.”
A pin might have been heard to fall on the Club mahogany.
“The time has come, Murrell, when some on us in this City has got to do a bit o’ clear thinkin’. But before we can do anything we must have the dust out of our eyes. What is the Universal Press up to?—that’s the first question to ask ourselves. For years it has been preaching Disarmament in one column and quoting Rudyard Kipling in the next. You may be very bright and clever and quite well up in your business, but oil and vitriol don’t always mix. Seems to me, Murrell, it’s time we came to brass tacks.”
Alderman Murrell and his fellow Imperialists sat up now and took notice. They had always been proud to think that Sir Munt whose force of will and breadth of view they deeply admired was one of themselves. He was very much one of themselves in point of fact. Was he not a trustee of the Club and permanent chairman of its house committee? For him to break loose in this unprecedented manner was indeed significant.
“I’ve just been having a heart-to-heart talk with Mr. Endor.” A swift exchange of glances between the sconce-bearers of Sir Munt confirmed them in the view that he undoubtedly had. “He says the long and short o’ the matter is, the U. P. is trying to force the Government into a war with China.”
Sensation!
“The prime minister is against it, but the Cabinet is in such fear of what the U. P. can do at the next General Election that it means to force his hand.”
“What can the U. P. do at the next General Election?” inquired a mild voice on the left.
“Most people think,” said Sir Munt, “that the U. P. can put out the present government as easily as it put it in.”
“But why should Saul Hartz want a war with China?” persisted the mild voice.