“I think we are straying wide of the mark, Chertsey,” he observes rather gruffly. “The policy we have got to decide on, is how the riotous crowds that are paralysing public freedom are to be suppressed. There is no doubt that for the moment this adventuress has a strong party in her favour, but I think, with Mayhew, that all sympathy with her will quickly subside, especially if the Government show a bold and determined front to the mutineers. The most strenuous efforts must be made to arrest those two women, and so put an end to the mutiny which they have provoked. I consider, therefore, that the military ought to be employed to assist the police, and I have little doubt that in a very short time order will be restored. Do you all think with me?”
The eleven satellites do, but not the independent planet. Lord Pandulph does not agree, and he says so plainly. He thinks it will be madness to employ the military, and thus provoke civil brawls, and perhaps civil war. He cannot make himself responsible for such a state of things.
“I am very sorry,” he says gravely, “but I am quite unable to fall in with such a policy, which, if pursued, I believe will entail lamentable results. Do your best if you think it possible to arrest the leaders of this movement by means of detectives and police, but for goodness’ sake keep the soldiers out of the fray. However, if you persist, I can make way for a fresh Secretary for India. I can resign.”
“That is an old game with you,” remarks the duke drily. “It will not be the first time you have left your colleagues in the lurch.”
“Say rather not the first time that I have refused to stifle conscience for the sake of office, or to make over my honest opinion to the care of others,” answers Lord Pandulph somewhat hotly, nettled no doubt by the duke’s unfair remark. “However,” he continues quietly, “I have no wish to mar the unanimity of these proceedings, and will withdraw. My reasons for resignation can be fully explained in the proper place.”
There is a significant ring in his voice which cannot be mistaken. The duke knows perfectly well that with Lord Pandulph out of his Cabinet, this excellent clique will be little less than a group of mechanical dolls. To lose Lord Pandulph means discredit to his Ministry, and a considerable loss of confidence outside it. He feels he must temporise.
“Really, Chertsey, I don’t understand what you want,” he observes impatiently. “A short while ago you were making fun of the detective force, and assuring us we had underrated Gloria de Lara’s power. Now that I propose to take decisive measures to arrest that power, you object to them. Will you propose a policy yourself?”
“Well, I will, as you invite me to do so,” answers Lord Pandulph, with a smile, “but I do not suppose you will adopt it. However, here is my opinion. I am not in sympathy with Gloria de Lara’s desires, but I fully recognise that her doctrines are accepted by thousands. I am not likely to forget that it was she who raised the Hall of Liberty, who drilled into efficiency a large Woman Volunteer Force, and who has worked her way into the affections of vast numbers of the working classes. Having read the evidence at her trial, I am extremely dissatisfied with the verdict, while in regard to the death of the policeman in the prison-van, I do not look upon Lady Flora’s act as murder. We are assured by members of the police force, that she fired through the lock of the van, only after giving the policeman full warning of her intention to do so. She naturally supposed he had lain down as she bade him; and though his death is most grievous, really she cannot be accused of murder. Looking at matters in this light, I think the wisest thing the present Government can do is to appeal to the country to decide the question, revoke the warrant against Lady Flora, and offer Gloria de Lara a fresh trial. Such a policy may be out of the way, but we must not forget that we are now facing a state of affairs unparalleled in the world’s history. For my part, I cannot take the responsibility of deciding for the country. It is the country which should be appealed to, and allowed to decide for itself.”
He has spoken as befits a statesman, who is able and willing to look upon the people as the proper tribunal to decide the policy to be pursued. But the Duke of Devonsmere, unlike Lord Pandulph, has never and will never be able to quit his aristocratic perch in order to descend to the people’s level. He is willing to give them a policy and ask them to accept it, but he cannot realise that the masses are able to produce one for themselves. It is not wonderful that he thinks as he does, for he is not, and never has been, in touch with the people.
Like Mr. Mayhew, he shakes his head.