Again there was silence. "This must be looked into," said Mr. Stafford at length, controlling himself by an effort. "For the present I agree with Lord Pilgrimstone, that it alters the position--and perhaps finally."
"Lord Pilgrimstone will be damaged in the eyes of a large section of his supporters--seriously damaged," Mr. Scratchley said, shaking his head and frowning.
"Possibly. From every point of view the thing is to be deplored. But I will call on Lord Pilgrimstone," the Minister continued slowly, "after lunch. Will you tell him so?"
A curious embarrassment showed itself in the secretary's manner. He twisted his hat in his hands, and looked suddenly sad--as if he were about to join in the groan at a prayer-meeting.
"Lord Pilgrimstone," he said in a voice he vainly strove to render commonplace, "is going to the Sandown Spring Meeting to-day."
The tone was really so lugubrious--to say nothing of a shake of the head with which he could not help accompanying the statement--that a faint smile played on Mr. Stafford's lips.
"Then I must take the next possible opportunity," he said. "I will see him to-morrow."
Mr. Scratchley assented to this, and bowed himself out, after another word or two, looking more gloomy and careworn than usual. The interview had not been altogether to his mind. He wished that he had spoken more roundly to Mr. Stafford; even asked for a categorical denial of the charge. But the Minister's manner had overawed him. He had found it impossible to put the question. And then the pitiful confession which he had had to make for Lord Pilgrimstone! That had put the copingstone to his dissatisfaction.
"Oh!" the secretary sighed, as he stepped into his cab. "Oh, that men so great should stoop to things so little!"
It did not occur to him that there is a condition of things even more sad: when little men meddle with great things.