“You didn’t see him?”
“No. But why?”
“Simply that you came within a week of meeting one of the cleverest men living, a cheerful being whom the Foreign Office is more interested in than any one else in the world. If you should hear again of Constantine Marka, Marker, or Mark, please note it down.”
“You mean that he is the author of the canard,” said Lewis, with sharp eyes, taking up a newspaper.
“Yes, and many more. This graceful person will complicate things for me, for I am to represent the Office in the Commons if we get back with a decent majority.”
Lewis held out a cordial hand. “I congratulate you, Tommy. Now beginneth the end, and may I be spared to see!”
“I hope you may, and it’s on this I want to talk to you. Merkland has resigned; it will be in the papers to-morrow. I got it kept out till I could see you!”
“Yes?” said Lewis, with quickening interest.
“And we want you to take his place. I spoke to him, and he is enthusiastic on the matter. I wired to the Conservative Club at Gledsmuir, and it seems you are their most cherished possibility. The leaders of the party are more than willing, so it only remains for you to consent, my dear boy.”
“I—don’t—think—I—can,” said the possibility slowly. “You see, only to-day I told that man Stocks that Merkland would not resign, and that I was sick of party politics and would not interfere with his chances. The poor beggar is desperately keen, and if I stood now he would think me disingenuous.”