of the great financial houses.
Democracy is in shackles. Its leaders are gagged. Progress is stopped.
Politics are barren----" He delivered this oration at dinner one night,
and when he came to the barrenness of politics he knocked over Ascher's
bottle of Perrier Water with a sweep of his hand "and it is the subtle
influence of the financiers, the money kings, what the Americans used to
call the Gold Bugs, which is responsible for the mischief."

Ascher assented with a sort of wavering smile.

"The proof of what I say," said Gorman, "is to be found in the
well-known fact----"

I interrupted him at this point. He had cited his well-known fact to
me several times. The son of a Liberal Cabinet Minister married the
daughter of a well-known Conservative who had been a Cabinet Minister.
It may be my stupidity but I cannot see how that union proves that
financiers control politics. I am not, and never shall be either a money
king or a gold bug, but in mere dread of hearing Gorman produce his
well-known fact again I took up the task of defending the class to which
Ascher belongs.

"After all, Gorman," I said, "you ought to be a little grateful. You
know perfectly well that there wouldn't be any politics if financiers
and other capitalists did not pay for them."

"That's just what I say," said Gorman.

"No," I said. "That's not what you say. You say that financiers poison
politics. But there's the greatest difference between paying for
a performance and poisoning the performers. Take a theatre for
instance----"

"Talking of theatres," said Gorman, "there's a rattling good circus
going on in New York at present. I'll take you two men to see it some
night."

But I was not going to let Gorman ride away in this manner from an
argument in which he was being worsted.

"Do let me finish what I am saying," I said. "All your Parliaments and
legislative assemblies are simply national theatres kept up for the
amusement of the people. Somebody has to put up the money to keep them
going. The ordinary man won't do it. You can't even get him to vote
without hypnotising him first by means of a lot of speeches and
newspaper articles and placards which stare at him from hoardings. Even
after you've hypnotised him you have to drag him to your polling booth
in motor cars. He wouldn't go if you didn't. As for paying for your
show, you know perfectly well that there'd be no money for the running
of it if it weren't for a few financiers an