'Well, captain; great news, Sir. The best thing, I take it, could have happened ministers, ha, ha, ha! A rotten house—down with it—blow it up—three votes only—but as good as three hundred for the purpose—of the three hundred, grant but three, you know—of course, they don't think of resigning.'
'Oh, dear, no—an immediate dissolution. Read that,' said Lake, tossing
Gybes' note to him.
'Ho, then, we'll have the writs down hot and heavy. We must be sharp. The sheriff's all right; that's a point. You must not lose an hour in getting your committee together, and printing your address.'
'Who's on the other side?'
'You'll have Jennings, of course; but they are talking of four different men, already, to take Sir Harry Twisden's place. He'll resign; that's past a doubt now. He has his retiring address written; Lord Edward Mordun read it; and he told FitzStephen on Sunday, after church, that he'd never sit again.'
'Here, by Jove, is a letter from Mowbray,' said Lake, opening it. 'All about his brother George. Hears I'm up for the county. Lord George ready to join and go halves. What shall I say?'
'Could not have a better man. Tell him you desire no better, and will bring it at once before your committee; and let him know, the moment they meet; and tell him I say he knows Wealdon pretty well—he may look on it as settled. That will be a spoke in Sir Harry's wheel.'
'Sir Harry who?' said Lake.
'Bracton. I think it's only to spoil your game, you see,' answered
Wealdon.
'Abundance of malice; but I don't think he's countenanced?'