rn the scale."

"It will ruin me politically."

"You will marry Marjorie Hale and be rich. No rich man is ever ruined
politically. Or socially." She patted his hand gently. "You'll do it?"

He got up slowly. "You'll see next week," he said.

It is not meet that we should watch the unhappy Rupert through the
long-drawn hours of the night, as he wrestled with the terrible problem.
A moment's sudden madness on that May afternoon had brought him to the
cross-roads. On the one hand, reputation, wealth, the girl that he
loved; on the other, his own honour and--so, at least, he had said
several times on the platform--the safety of England. He rose in the
morning weary, but with his mind made up.

The Bill should go through!

Rupert Meryton was a speaker of a not unusual type. Although he provided
the opinions himself, he always depended upon his secretary for the
arguments with which to support them and the actual words in which to
give them being. But on this occasion he felt that a special effort was
required of him. He would show Lady Marchpane that the blackmail of
yesterday had only roused him to a still greater effort on behalf of his
country. _He would write his own speech._

On the fateful night the House was crowded. It seemed that all the
guests at Lady Marchpane's a week before were in the Distinguished
Strangers' Gallery or behind the Ladies' Grille. From the Press Gallery
"Our Special Word-painter" looked down upon the statesmen beneath him,
his eagle eye ready to detect on the moment the Angry Flush, the Wince,
or the Sudden Paling of enemy, the Grim Smile or the Lofty Calm of
friend.

The Rt. Hon. Rupert Meryton, Tariffadical Member for Cricklewood (E.)
rose to his feet amidst cheers.

"Mr. Speaker," he said, "I rise--er--to-night, sir--h'r'm, to--er----"
So much of his speech I may give, but urgent State reasons compel me to
withhold the rest. Were it ever known with which Bill the secret history
that I have disclosed concerns itself, the Great Powers in an instant
would be at each other's throats. But though I may not disclose the
speech I can tell of its effect on the House. And its effect was
curious. It was, in fact, the exact opposite of what Rupert Meryton,
that promising Under Secretary, had intended.

It was the first speech that he had ever prepared himself. Than Rupert
there was no more dignified figure in the House of Commons; his honour
was proof, as we have seen, against the most insidi