As soon as questions over, plot disclosed. Cochrane, a harmless, perhaps necessary, man, put up to move adjournment, in order to discuss the Swazi question. That in itself a stroke of genius. Had Silomio personally moved, game would have seemed too stale. Probability is forty Members not been found to stand up in support of motion. Looks much better to have such action taken on one side of House and supported from the other; invests it with air of impartiality and unanimity. On challenge from the Speaker, Conservatives rose in body to support Cochrane's request. Having secured that object, and being on their legs, they strolled out, leaving Squire of Malwood, Sydney Buxton, and about a score of others all told, to listen to Cochrane's urgent message. Amongst them sat Frank Lockwood, with tender gleam in eyes that roamed with curious intentness about Speaker's chair.
Whilst Cochrane spoke, Silomio sat with inspired look on his face, making voluminous notes. He would come on by-and-by. Let others keep the thing going as long as possible; just when hapless Ministers thought it was over, and they might get to business, they should hear a well-known war-whoop; should discover Silomio at the table, in for a good hour's speech. Meanwhile he sat piling notes upon notes, pausing occasionally to cheer Cochrane, anon humming softly to himself
"Swaziland, my Swaziland!"
"Our Artist"—Sir Frank Blockwood, Q.C., M.P.
Under Secretary for Colonies deprecated in public interest irregular discussion of question at present time. Gorst, hampered by this responsibility, made curiously halting speech. Baden-Powell spoke "as one who had been in South Africa"; Squire of Malwood more gravely repeated Sydney Buxton's warning. Now was Silomio's time. But before he could move Prince Arthur was on his feet, positively, with some commonplaces about respecting Ministerial responsibility, consenting to close the conversation!
Silomio gasped for breath; instinctively felt for his assegai; clutched at his notes dripping with the gore of Sydney Buxton. When he had partially mastered his emotion the amendment was withdrawn and opportunity had fled.
"Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis oves," said Plunket soothingly. "But never mind. You remember that in the end Virgil got his own, and Bathylius was basted." Silomio stared.
Business done.—Silomio contrives a debate and others talk.
Friday Night.—Policemen in lobby much startled by incident that preceded arrival of Speaker to resume sittings at nine o'clock. The steady tramp of a column in marching order broke on the ear. Came nearer and nearer from direction of dining-room; swinging doors flung open; Colonel of the Queen's Westminster Volunteers entered. Behind him, in close order, tramped something like score of members. At word of command they took half turn to right and passed into House, as in earlier days another British column swung through the gates of Delhi.