any one had
imagined possible. Horlock himself undertook the defence of his once
more bitterly assailed Government and from the first it was obvious what
the end must be. He spoke with the resigned cynicism of one who knows
that words are fruitless, that the die is already cast and that his
little froth of words, valedictory in their tone from the first, was
only a tribute to exacting convention. Tallente had never been more
restrained, although his merciless logic reduced the issues upon which
the vote was to be taken to the plainest and clearest elements. He
remained studiously unemotional and nothing which he said indicated in
any way his personal interest in the sweeping away of the Horlock
regime. He was the impersonal but scathing critic, paving the way for
his chief. It was Dartrey himself who overshadowed every one that
night. He spoke so seldom in the House that many of the members had
forgotten that he was an orator of rare quality. That night he lifted
the debate from the level of ordinary politics to the idyllic realms
where alone the lasting good of the world is fashioned. He pointed out
what government might and should be, taking almost a Roman view of the
care of the citizen, his early and late education, his shouldering of
the responsibilities which belong to one of a great community. From the
individual he passed to the nation, sketching in a few nervous but
brilliant phrases the exact possibilities of socialistic legislation;
and he wound up with a parodied epigram: Government, he declared, was
philosophy teaching by failures. In the end, Miller led fourteen of his
once numerous followers into the Government lobby to find himself by
forty votes upon the losing side.

Horlock found Tallente once more slipping quietly away from the House
and bundled him into his car. They drove off rapidly. "So it's
Buckinghamshire for me," the former observed, not without jubilation.
"After all, it has been rather a tame finale. We were beaten before we
opened our mouths."

"Even your new adherent," Tallente said, smiling, "could not save you."

Horlock made a grimace.

"You can have Miller and his faithful fourteen," he declared. "We don't
want him. The man was a Little Englander, he has become a Little
Labourite. Heaven knows where he'll end! Are you going to be Prime
Minister, Tallente?"

"I don't know," was the quiet reply. "Just for the moment I am weary of
it all. Day after day, fighting and scheming, speak