e.

And Mr. Parkinson Chenney talked on his favourite subject with great
ease and charm, and his favourite subject was the question of the
Chinese Concession. Apparently everybody had got concessions in China
except the British, until one of our cleverest diplomatists stepped in
and procured for us the most amazingly rich coalfield of Wei-hai-tai.
The genius and foresight of this diplomatist--who had actually gone to
China in the Long Vacation, and of his own initiative and out of his
own head had evolved these concessions, which were soon to be ratified
by a special commission which was coming from China--was a theme on
which Mr. Parkinson Chenney spoke with the greatest eloquence. And
everybody listened respectfully, because he was a great man.

"It is not for me," said Mr. Parkinson Chenney, toying with the stem of
his champagne glass and closing his eyes modestly, "I say it is not for
me--thank you, Perkins, I will have just as much as will come up to the
brim; thank you, that will do very nicely--to speak boastfully or to
enlarge unduly upon what I regard as a patriotic effort, and one which
every citizen of these islands would in the circumstances have made,
but I certainly plume myself upon the acumen and knowledge of the
situation which I showed."

"Hear, hear!" said Bones in the pause that followed, and Mr. Parkinson
Chenney beamed.

When the dinner was over, and the guests retired to the smoking-room,
Bones buttonholed the minister.

"Dear old right honourable," said Bones, "may I just have a few words
in _re_ Chinese coal?"

The right honourable gentleman listened, or appeared to listen. Then
Mr. Parkinson Chenney smiled a recognition to another great man, and
moved off, leaving Bones talking.

Bones that night was the guest of a Mr. Harold Pyeburt, a City
acquaintance--almost, it seemed, a disinterested City acquaintance.
When Bones joined his host, Mr. Pyeburt patted him on the back.

"My dear Tibbetts," he said in admiration, "you've made a hit with
Chenney. What the dickens did you talk about?"

"Oh, coal," said Bones vaguely.

He wasn't quite certain what he had talked about, only he knew that in
his mind at dinner there had dawned a great idea. Was Mr. Pyeburt a
thought-reader? Possibly he was. Or possibly some chance word of his
had planted the seed which was now germinating so favourably.

"Chenney is a man to know," he said. "He's one of the most powerful
fellows in the Cabinet.