ned from a nightmare. He never
forgot that single moment of revelation on the part of the man who sat
now smiling and debonair before his writing-table.

"You are very kind indeed, Lord Arranmore," he said. "I can assure you
that the money will be most carefully used, and amongst my party, at any
rate, we do really appreciate the necessity for going to the root of the
matter."

Arranmore's pen went scratching across the paper. He tore out a cheque,
and placing it in an envelope, handed it to Brooks.

"I noticed," he remarked, thoughtfully, "that a good many people coming
out of the factories hissed my carriage in Medchester last time I was
there. I hope they will not consider my cheque as a sign of weakness.
But after all," he added, with a smile, "what does it matter? Let us go
in to luncheon, Brooks."

Brooks glanced down at his mud-splashed clothes and boots.

"I must really ask you to excuse me," he began, but Arranmore only rang
the bell.

"My valet will smarten you up," he said. "Here, Fritz, take Mr. Brooks
into my room and look after him, will you. I shall be in the hall when
you come down."

As he passed from the dressing-room a few minutes later, Brooks paused
for a moment to look up at the wonderful ceiling above the hall. Below,
Lord Arranmore was idly knocking about the billiard balls, and all
around him was the murmur of pleasant conversation. Brooks drew the
envelope from his pocket and glanced at the cheque. He gave a little
gasp of astonishment. It was for a thousand pounds.

CHAPTER VIII

KINGSTON BROOKS MAKES INQUIRIES

At luncheon Brooks found himself between Sybil Caroom and Mr. Hennibul.
She began to talk to him at once.

"I want to know all about your candidate, Mr. Brooks," she declared.
"You can't imagine how pleased I am to have you here. I have had the
feeling ever since I came of being shut up in a hostile camp. I am a
Radical, you know, and these good people, even my mother, are rabid
Conservatives."

Brooks smiled as he unfolded his serviette.

"Well, Henslow isn't exactly an ornamental candidate," he said, "but he
is particularly sound and a man with any amount of common-sense. You
should come and hear him speak."

"I'd love to," she answered, "but no one would bring me from here. They
are all hopeless. Mr. Molyneux there is going to support Mr.
Rochester. If I wasn't sure that he'd do more harm than good, I
wouldn't let him go. But I don't suppose they'll let you sp