the requests
for a public explanation which have been addressed to you by duly
qualified electors of the borough." The Dean felt a little uneasy when
that sentence was read out to him; was it possible that he had
underrated Quisante's resources and not perceived quite how many ways of
escaping from a corner that talented gentleman might discover? Yet there
was nothing to quarrel with in the sentence; at the outside it was a
courteous intimation of a difference of opinion and of the view (held by
every man in the place except Sir Winterton himself) that a simple
explanation on a public occasion would have done Sir Winterton's honour
no harm and his cause a great deal of good.

Such was the private answer; the public reference was no less neat. First
came a ready and ample acceptance of the explanation which Sir Winterton
had given. "I accept it unreservedly, I do not repeat it only because it
was given to me privately." Then followed an expression of gratitude for
the manly and straightforward way in which the speaker felt himself to
have been treated by his opponent; then there was an expression of hope
that these personal matters might disappear from the contest. "Had I been
sensitive, I in my turn might have found matter for complaint, but I was
content to place myself in your hands, trusting to your good sense and
fairness." (Sir Winterton had not been so content.) "I trust that the
episode may be regarded as at an end." Then a pause and--"It is not for
me, as I have already observed to my honourable opponent, to express any
judgment on the course which he has seen fit to adopt. I have only to
accept his word, which I do unhesitatingly, and it is no part of my duty
to ask why he preferred to make his explanation to one who is trying to
prevent him from sitting in Parliament rather than to those whom he seeks
to represent in that high assembly."

This was said gravely and was much cheered. As the cheering went on, a
smile gradually bent the speaker's broad expressive mouth; the crowded
benches became silent, waiting the fulfilment of the smile's promise. A
roguish look came into Quisante's face, he glanced at his audience,
then at his friends on the platform, lastly at his wife who sat on the
other side of the chairman's table. He spoke lower than was his wont,
colloquially, almost carelessly, with an amused intonation. "At any
rate," he said, "I trust that Henstead may once more be thought worthy
of the presence of-