'And besides,' said Ollyett, 'we allude to "gravid polled Angus." I am
advised that no action can lie in respect of virgin Shorthorns. Pallant
wants us to come to the House to-night. He's got us places for the
Strangers' Gallery. I'm beginning to like Pallant.'

'Masquerier seems to like you,' I said.

'Yes, but I'm afraid of him,' Ollyett answered with perfect sincerity.
'I am. He's the Absolutely Amoral Soul. I've never met one yet.'

We went to the House together. It happened to be an Irish afternoon, and
as soon as I had got the cries and the faces a little sorted out, I
gathered there were grievances in the air, but how many of them was
beyond me.

'It's all right,' said Ollyett of the trained ear. 'They've shut their
ports against--oh yes--export of Irish cattle! Foot-and-mouth disease at
Ballyhellion. _I_ see Pallant's idea!'

The House was certainly all mouth for the moment, but, as I could feel,
quite in earnest. A Minister with a piece of typewritten paper seemed to
be fending off volleys of insults. He reminded me somehow of a nervous
huntsman breaking up a fox in the face of rabid hounds.

'It's question-time. They're asking questions,' said Ollyett. 'Look!
Pallant's up.'

There was no mistaking it. His voice, which his enemies said was his one
parliamentary asset, silenced the hubbub as toothache silences mere
singing in the ears. He said:

'Arising out of that, may I ask if any special consideration has
recently been shown in regard to any suspected outbreak of this disease
on _this_ side of the Channel?'

He raised his hand; it held a noon edition of _The Bun_. We had thought
it best to drop the paragraph out of the later ones. He would have
continued, but something in a grey frock-coat roared and bounded on a
bench opposite, and waved another _Bun_. It was Sir Thomas Ingell.

'As the owner of the herd so dastardly implicated--' His voice was
drowned in shouts of 'Order!'--the Irish leading.

'What's wrong?' I asked Ollyett. 'He's got his hat on his head, hasn't
he?'

'Yes, but his wrath should have been put as a question.'

'Arising out of that, Mr. Speaker, Sirrr!' Sir Thomas bellowed through a
lull, 'are you aware that--that all this is a conspiracy--part of a
dastardly conspiracy to make Huckley ridiculous--to make _us_
ridiculous? Part of a deep-laid plot to make _me_ ridiculous, Mr.
Speaker, Sir!'

The man's face showed almost black against his white whiskers, and he
struck out