Efficiency was the watchword of Maclean. There was no beating about the bush. He knew what he wanted and had come to see that he got it. In a cool, aloof, rather detached way he lost no time in putting forward the demand he had made at a former meeting.
“But one has been led to infer from your speeches,” said the Duke, bluntly, “and the facts of your career, that you stand for an order of things very different from those obtaining here.”
“Up to a point, yes,” was the ready answer. “But only up to a point. In order to govern efficiently it is wise to aim at a centralization of power. The happiest communities are those in which power is in the hands of the few. Now there is much in the social hierarchy, even as at present constituted, which deserves to survive the shock of battle that will soon be upon us. It ought to survive, for it has proved its worth. And in identifying myself with it I shall be glad when the time comes to help your people here if only you will help me now.”
“In a word, you are ready to throw over your friends,” said the Duke with a narrowing eye.
“By no means! I have not the least intention of doing that.”
His Grace was hard to convince; besides the man’s nonchalance incensed him. “Well, as I have told you already, the only terms on which we can begin to think of having you here are that you quit your present stable.”
“Don’t you think you take a parochial view?” The considered coolness had the power to infuriate. “Whichever stable one happens to occupy at the moment is not very material. It is simply a means to an end.”
“To what end?”
“The better government of the country—of the Empire, if you prefer it.”
“You aim at the top?”