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(Darnell MninerBtta Hibratg 
 
 CHARLES WILLIAM WASON 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 CHINA AND THE CHINESE 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 CHARLES WILLIAM WASON 
 
 CLASS OF 1876 
 
 1918 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 5472.S79S7 
 
 The splendid paupers :a tale of the comi 
 
 spl 
 
 i 
 
 3 1924 023 987 377 
 
\\s 
 
 <\ 
 
 XI 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924023987377 
 
'Hi 
 
THE SPLENDID PAUPERS 
 
 A TALE OF 
 
 THE COMING PLUTOCRACY. 
 
 BEING THE 
 
 Cbri8tma8 Butnbev of tbe IReview of 1Revfew6, 
 
 1894. 
 
 " We are not a rich aristocracy. We are many of us deadly poor, , and all the 
 poorer because tradition, society, and pride, make us go on living beyond our means. 
 It is not as if the aristocracy could set an example in this matter. They have been 
 forced to go the pace which the iiouveaux riches set. We have to live when corn is 30^. 
 a quarter as when it is s'oj-. ; but not" only that, but to keep abreast, if not ahead, of 
 the wealthy tradespeople who have come into land. The result is that we are, many 
 of us, little better than splendid paupers." — Lady Warwick, 1893. 
 
 REVIEW OF REVIEWS 
 
 Editorial Offices: Mowbray House, Norfolk Street, London, W.C. 
 Publishing Office: 125, Fleet Street, London, E.C 
 
 UNjy.vH^^ilY 
 
 I- 1 • ■ wms V 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 'HE Christmas Numbers of the Review of Reviews endeavour to embody in the narrative form, 
 which permits the chronicler to unite the license of fiction with the realism of fact, the most 
 ' conspicuous events and ideas of the passing year. 
 
 In 1892, in "From the Old World to the New" I was able to describe in advance Chicago and 
 the World's Fair. In 1893, the Liberator swindle suggested the subject for " Two and Two Make 
 Four." This year, the fall in prices, the debates upon the death duties, the arrival of plutocrats 
 from the United States, and the war between China and Japan, afford a not less obvious topic 
 for " The Splendid Paupers.'' 
 
 It may seem to be audaiious beyond measure to attempt to weave into a Christmas Number 
 such forbidding and heterogeneous topics as death duties, bimetallism, agricultural depression, and 
 the war in the Orient ; but if fortune favours . the brave, I may at least hope for good luck ia 
 my enterprise. 
 
 For the title I owe my acknowledgments to the Countess of Warwick ; the characters, with few 
 exceptions, are borrowed from real life, and most of them I fear are but thinly disguised. 
 
 M5WBHAY House, Temple, W.C. W. T. STEAD. 
 
 November, 1894. 
 
CONTENTS 
 Part 1 
 
 TOEAT AT EIGHTEEN SHILLIN&S A QUARTER 
 
 I. Mr. Walledoff 5 
 
 II. Lady Aenid 8 
 
 III. The Duke of Eastland 12 
 
 IV. The Radicals of Rigiiy 15 
 
 V. The County of Blank shire ....... 18 
 
 VI. An Episode in Knickerbockers 21 
 
 VII. The Modern Town of Garlam 25 
 
 7III. A Birthday Party at the "Radical Arms" .... 31 
 
 IX. Exit Lord Bladud 35 
 
 X. The Radical Campaign 38 
 
 XI. An Unexpected Meeting 42 
 
 XII. An Inquest at Sloane Hall 45 
 
 XIII. The Plutocratic Microhe 49 
 
 XIV. Defeated but Triumphant 53 
 
 Part II. 
 
 THE YELLOW MAN WITH THE WHITE MONEY 
 
 I. A Shooting Party in the Highlands 57 
 
 II. Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann , ..... 61 
 
 III. A Dinner Party at Westlands Castle 63 
 
IV. A Political Plot 67 
 
 V. Bimetallism in Excelais 70 
 
 VI. The Wiles of Lady Dorotby 72 
 
 VII. Chinafying Chatsworth 75 
 
 VIII. A Gigantic Conspiracy 79 
 
 IX. A Scene in Bouverie Street 81 
 
 X. Roping them in 85 
 
 XI. Jimjams and Cholera 88 
 
 XII, The Yellow Man in Possession 90 
 
THE S.PLENDID PAUPERS: 
 
 n TAliE OF THE COmijlC PliUXOCJ^RCV. 
 
 PART L— WHEAT AT EIGHTEEN SHILLINGS A QUARTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MR. WALLEDOFF. 
 
 " Ct'O tlie Duke says that he will have to sell Chats- 
 ^^ worth?" said Sterling to his companion, a bright 
 S^^ young girl who was looking down from a hill near 
 
 ^ Maidenhead upon the winding Thames. 
 
 "Sell Chatsworth? Nonsense! Will the Queen sell 
 Windsor?" said she 
 lightly. "Oh!" she ex- 
 claimed, pointing to the 
 heud of the river, round 
 which a crew of gii'ls were 
 swinging an eight-oared 
 boat, " is it not splendid ? 
 Just look at that boat ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Sterling ; 
 " they make a pretty pic- 
 ture. But they don't go 
 the pace. Still, they keep 
 time well, and the cox 
 knows her business. Do 
 you. row ? " 
 
 "Never have had the 
 chance, save in an old tub 
 at sea. But I mean to. 
 I'm going in for every- 
 thing — everything. Is it 
 not perfectly lovely to 
 think that no one will 
 hinder me from doing 
 whatever I've a, mind to, 
 any more than if I had 
 been a boy ? " 
 
 " Let us sit down here 
 for a few minutes," said 
 Sterling, "and enjoy the 
 sunset. And you can tell 
 me your plans just as well 
 sitting down as standing 
 up. Well, if you won't, 
 I will. So there, Lady .ffinid, by your leave." 
 
 Whereupon Sterling stretched himself lazily on the hill- 
 side. His companion looked down at him for a moment. 
 
 " Poor thing," she said, " he's tired, and is quite right to 
 rest. But I have been doing nothing all day, and I prefer to 
 move about. And do you know," she said eagerly, "I do 
 believe I see Elma in that boat. No other girl has quite 
 such a head of hair. What luck! Good-bye, I am off!" 
 And before Sterling could rise, the girl was scampering down 
 the hill towards the river. 
 
 " What a madcap ! " he muttered ; "she will break her neck 
 some day. But that is just her way ; helter-skelter, over 
 field and through dyke. There's nothing like a woman for 
 taking a bee line when the fit seizes her." 
 
 'ABE YOU HURT 
 
 Meanwhile, the object of these reflections was rapidly 
 nearing the lootto-n of the hill. The impetus of her own 
 movements, accelerated by the steepness of the descent, was 
 carrying her along so rapidly that she could not possibly 
 stop herself before reaching a low hedge at the bottom of 
 the hill. There was nothing for it but to fly at it as best 
 she could. The girl was fleet of foot and agile. She had 
 no time to think and no chance to stop. She leapt the 
 
 hedge, cleared it like a 
 stag, but, alas, she had 
 what stags have not — the^ 
 skirt of her dress caught 
 ^ on the stake in the hedge,, 
 
 and she fell heavily into- 
 the ditch. 
 
 "Hulloa!" shouted- 
 Sterling, " you've gone and 
 done it now," and in a- 
 moment he was running 
 down the hill, not knowing 
 in what state of fracture 
 he would find the girl on 
 the other side of the hedge. 
 When he reached her, she 
 was sitting on the side of 
 the ditch, with her face all 
 glowing with nettle stings, 
 and a long scratch across 
 one cheek. She was stiU 
 panting and out of breath. 
 " My dear girl," said 
 Sterling, " are you hurt ? 
 I was scared to death when- 
 I saw you fall." 
 
 " It's nothing," she said,, 
 between her labouring- 
 breaths — "nothing at all. 
 Only a few nettle stings- 
 J and a nasty scratch. I 
 fell soft, you see. It's all 
 that confounded dress. I 
 should have cleared the hedge splendidly but for it." 
 
 Sterling found it was as she had said. There were no 
 bones broken. She had fallen soft, the force of her fall 
 being checked by the skirt, which caught on the fence. 
 The dress had held for a second, and then had parted, 
 leaving a shred as a trophy to the stake. He busied himself 
 getting dock leaves tn a]iply to the blisters made by the 
 nettles, listening silently the while to Lady jEnid's objur- 
 gations. 
 
 " It's all these hateful petticoats," she said, " dangling 
 about one's heels. They don't give us half a chance. 
 This is the second time they've served me this scurvy trick. 
 The other time they caught on the pedal of my bicycle and 
 flung me just as I was rushing down a splendid hill, and 
 
 ASKED STEELIXG. 
 
The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 sprained my wrist. They'll be the death of me some day. 
 Thanks, awfully," she added, as Sterling brought her some 
 fresh cool leaves. " I'm almost better now. I wonder if 
 Elma has pa-^sed." 
 
 " We had better go home," said Sterling. " If you lean 
 on my arm, I think " 
 
 Before he had finished his sentence the girl was up and 
 oft' towards the river. She had spied her friend's boat, and 
 was running towards the river, waving her handkerchief. 
 Sterling followed sloAvl3^ " She's none the worse for her 
 tumble," he said. " But if she only knew what a figure she 
 cuts w.ith that ragged skirt tracing behind her ! " 
 
 But Lady ^Enid did not care-. Her friend had seen her 
 signal and had sculled to the river side. 
 
 " Sakes alive," said Elma, with a strong American accent, 
 " where have you been, Xiddie ? You look as if you'd 
 tumbled off a haystack ; and your face is bleeding. Dear, 
 dear, Xiddie, you've been to the wars indeed ! " 
 
 " Only a scratch," said the girl. " Let me come into the, 
 boat and wash it off. Do introduce me to your friend." 
 
 " Lady iEnid, Mr. Glogoul — Mr. Glogoul, Lady iEnid.. 
 'There now — no ceremonies — come on board." 
 
 "Mr. Sterling," said .iEnid, turning to her companion, 
 " you will come too, of course ? This is Elma Dormer, my 
 American friend. You'll like each other, I'm sure. Steady, 
 now ! " she added, as both stepped into the boat. 
 
 Sterling took his seat beside the young man, who was 
 introduced to him as Mr. Glogoul. 
 
 " Have I nut seen you before ? " he said. " Both the 
 name and the features seem familiar to me." 
 
 " Guess nut, sir," said the young man. " Only arrived 
 fj-om Xew York day before yesterday." 
 
 "Glogoul, Glogoul — I'm sure I have heard that name 
 before," persisted Sterling. 
 
 "Rather," said the young man, '"who hasn't? But it 
 was my uncle who made it famoup. I have not had my 
 turn yet." 
 
 "Oh, I remember,'' said Sterling. "And so you are the 
 nephew uf the famous professor ? Is he stiE prosecuting his 
 researches into the njysteries of human nature ? " 
 
 " Guess so," said the young man. " Bit of an old fogey 
 though, with antiquated notions. Why, I've actually heard , 
 him say that he had objections to vivisect any but 
 incorrigible criminals. I've been rather ashamed of him 
 since that." 
 
 There was for Sterling a strange attraction of repulsion 
 about the young cynic, r^ 
 
 "And you," he said, "would vivisect anybody? " 
 
 "Of course," he replied. "Why not? If you vivisect 
 only criminals you only experiment upon the abnormal. 
 You might as well vivisect only geniuses or lunatics. What 
 we want in our physiological laboratories is the normal." 
 
 " You, then, are a pathologist, I suppose ? " said Sterling. 
 
 "Oh, don't talk shop," saucily interrupted Elma, who 
 was now rowing steadily up the stream. " Glogoul has 
 been talking nothing but horrid stories of how they experi-, 
 ment in torture. I call it torture, but he says they don't 
 feel — nobody feels anything. What looks like agony is only 
 reflex action. We are all automata, and everybody does 
 just what he must, and nobody's to blame. Niddie, how is 
 the reflex action of the nettle rashes getting on ? " 
 
 " iluch better," said Lady jEiiid. " What with the 
 dock leaves and the river air I feel quite ' fit.' Is it not a 
 lovely evening V " 
 
 As she spoke she pointed to the sun which was sinking 
 slowly behind the Splendon Woods, as if unwilling to leave 
 a scene of such perfect loveliness. The foliage on the trees 
 was just beginning to change, here and there flecking the 
 green wood with gold. The steady plash of Elma's oars in 
 
 the water and the ripple of the stream against the boat 
 alone broke the silence. Now and then a cow lowed in the 
 meadows or a dog bai'ked in the farmyard. The elouds in 
 the eastern sky were beginning to glow with the reflected 
 glory of the setting sun, whose' long rays made the silver 
 Thames glow like molten gold. 
 
 As they neared a turn in the nver, they narrowly escaped 
 bumping two eight-oared boats that were racing down 
 stream. One was the boat whose girlish crew had first 
 excited Lady .SDnid's attention, the other was manned by 
 men. The girls were leading. 
 
 " Look, look ! " cried Lady Muii exultantly ; " who's 
 going the pace now ? We're leading a clear length. How 
 splendid ! Don't I wish I were one of them." 
 
 The boats swept by, the racing crews not vouchsafing 
 even a glance as they passed. 
 
 "A spurt," said Sterling — "plucky spurt, but doesn't 
 last." — 
 
 " But they were leading," she objected. 
 
 " Had a ^tart you may be sure," said Glogoul. " Women 
 will always be whipped at that kind of thing — always." 
 , " You're-' quite horrid," said Elma. " Give us a chance, a 
 fair chance, and you'll see if you .can hold your own." 
 
 " My dear cousin," said the young doctor, " you are 
 totally wrong. Eillies have had as fair a field as colts 
 since the world began, and even with an allowance for sex 
 how seldom has a filly won any great race ! " , 
 
 " If only," said Sterling, " men would mak.e women an 
 allowance for sex the race might be more equal. But 
 unfortunately women have irot a filly's chance. Because 
 they are handicapped by nature, they are further handicapped 
 by man." • , 
 
 " No," said Lady iEnid, " by ourselves worst of all. Look 
 at these hateful petticoats, for instance, to say nothing of 
 corsets." 
 
 " Niddie," said Elma, blushing, " how can you ? You are 
 too awful for anything." 
 
 " Why ? " said she, innocently. , " I did not say anything, 
 did I ? Oh ! " she added, laughing, " I forgot you aie 
 American, and Americans have no undergarments to speak of. ' 
 
 " Not before gentlemen, at least," said Elma, sofio voce, 
 and there was again silence in the boat. Far away in the 
 distance they heard faintly the refrain of a boating song. 
 The boat was Hearing the Splendon, Woods, Already the , 
 high bank was rising on their left. 
 
 " Make haste," said Lady jEnid ; " we must have a stroll 
 ill these lovely woods before dinner. There will just be time, 
 before sundown. I would not miss it for anything. Father 
 has told us such jolly stories of the picnic jDarties he used to 
 have under the fine old trees, that I always dreamed of 
 coming here some day — and here we are," she said, as the 
 boat slowed up and they prepared to land. 
 
 Hardly had the boat touched the bank, when a keeper 
 stepped forward. " Out of that ! " he shouted grufHy. 
 " You've no business here." 
 
 " But," said Sterling, " I, have landed here scores of times, 
 and there never has been any objection. There must be some 
 mistake." 
 
 "No mistake at all," replied the man. "I have my 
 orders. Neither you nor nobody else must laud here." 
 
 Sterling persisted. " My good man, I am sure you are 
 wrong. I know the Duke very well, and he was always 
 delighted that we should land here." 
 
 " The Duke be damned ! " said the man. " What's he got 
 to. do with it? This isn't the Duke's any more. It's 
 Mr. Walledoff s, and Mr. Walledoff '11 stand none of your 
 blooming picnic parties and such flummery. So get out, will 
 vou, or I'll give you in charge as trespassers. S'help me, I 
 wiU. Here, Baby!" 
 
Mr. Walledoff. 
 
 7 
 
 He whistled as iie- spoke, and an evil-looking our came up 
 showing his teeth. 
 
 " Off with you, do you hear, or I'll set the dog on you.. 
 Confound you ; one would think the whole British public 
 owned the property, and not Mr.^^alledoff." 
 
 He gave the boat a push offwitn his foot as he spoke, and 
 it began to drift down stream. 
 
 " Who is your master ? " asked Glogoul. 
 
 " Why," said the man, " Mr. Walledoflf — him as bought 
 the Latter Day Gazette, you know." 
 
 Wliereupon he turned on his heel and disappeared behind 
 the trees. 
 
 ;du1. 
 
 ' To come across an American 
 
 . "The devil!" said Glo;^ 
 here ! " 
 
 " 1 wish, cousin," said 
 Elma, as she took up her 
 oars, "that you would 
 not use such dreadful 
 language before ladies." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," 
 said Glogoul. " But you 
 see I don't believe there 
 is a devil. So it is not 
 profane, really. It , is 
 only mythological." 
 
 After a moment's 
 pause. Sterling said, " I 
 remember now hearing 
 that the Duke had sold 
 Splendon to an American 
 millionaire. But T' had 
 no idea that even an 
 American millionaire 
 would deprive the public 
 of privileges which they 
 had enjoyed from time 
 immemorial." 
 
 "Didn't you, though?" 
 a ksd Glogoul. "Then 
 you don't know the 
 American millionaire. 
 It was coi he who said 
 ' the public be damned,' 
 but that summed it all 
 lip. And I guess the 
 public will be pretty con- 
 siderably damned, too, 
 before our millionaires 
 have done with them." 
 
 There was silence in 
 the boat for a time. The 
 mists were rising, and 
 Lady ^Enid began to 
 feel chilly. " Put me 
 ashore," she said, "and I will run along the river bank.'' 
 
 " Konsense," said Elma ; " what a, guy you will look ! " 
 
 " AVhat do I care," she retorted, " if I can keep warm ? 
 There now; one moment," and then she sprang from the 
 boat to the bank. She stopped for a moment to pin up her 
 gown where it was torn, aud then started off at a trot after 
 the boat. 
 
 Glogoul watched her curiously through his glasses for a 
 time as if she had been a, new specimen in a museum. " And 
 that," he said to himself, musing — " that, I suppose, is what 
 they call a ' Xew Woman ' in the adolescent state ; a case of 
 reversion — interesting but familiar." 
 
 "How?" said Sterling. 
 
 " Reversion," .«aid Glogoul, " to barbarism. We are quite 
 familiar with it in our country. Philanthropists occasionally 
 
 OUT OF THAT ! " HE SHOUTED GRUFFLY. 
 
 catch a Red Indian papoose, bring it up a boarding-scheol 
 girl. All goes well till one fine day boarding-school miss 
 disappears. In her place squaw in a blanket, with hair 
 hanging down back, and face daubed with red ochre. She 
 reverts. And that new young woman reverts. The reversion 
 to barbarism is a recoil from too straitlaced civilisation. I 
 wonder how long it will last." 
 
 " What you call Barbarism I would call Xature,'' said 
 Elma. 
 
 " But Nature is Barbarism. All civilisation is unnatural," 
 said Glogoul. 
 
 " I take issue with you," said Sterling ; " but here we are at 
 the landing-stage ; you go our way, I .believe ? " 
 
 " Ko," said Elma, "we 
 go further down the 
 river. But we may look 
 you up after dinner." - 
 
 Lady jEnid and Ster- 
 ling turned away from 
 the river. "I hate that 
 man," she said ; " he has 
 the eye of a snake, and 
 he dissects one as if you 
 were dead — ugh ! " and 
 she shuddered. : 
 
 Sterling said nothing.. 
 He sliared her feeling to 
 some extent. But there 
 is a great attraction in 
 excessive repulsion. If 
 you throw a ball with 
 great force against a wall 
 it rebounds to your hand. 
 Besides, .the man was a 
 type, and he liked types, 
 especially when -they were 
 the logical ultimate out- 
 come of ideas. 
 
 When they reached' 
 Flora Cottage they 
 found dinner waiting. 
 The Hon. Mrs. Truddle- 
 combe, a neighbour who 
 had been invited to meet 
 Lady .^llnid, was much 
 scand]alised at the girl's; 
 appearance. 
 
 " What would your 
 mother think?" she ob- 
 served, half under her 
 breath, as the girl told 
 the story of her adven- 
 tures. She was too ex- 
 , cited to notice the chilly 
 censure implied by Mrs. Truddlecombe's manner. At last, 
 she told with much mimetic power the scene with the keeper 
 who warned ihem off the Splendon Woods. Then Mrs. 
 Truddlecombe warmed up, "My dear, you ought to have 
 known better than to try to put a foot on Mr. WalledofTs 
 grounds.' A lady should not needlessly expose herself to 
 insult." 
 
 " Insult ! Mrs. Truddlecombe ; who was insulted ? It 
 was rude, no doubt, and I tlaiuk this Walledoff is a churl, 
 but we cannot be insulted by such creatures,, surely." 
 
 " Well, well, Lady ^Eaid, you may think it no insult'to 
 be warned off as if you were, trespassing, but I think other- 
 wise." 
 
 " Tell ine," said Sterling, " how long has this been going 
 on?" 
 
8 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Ever since the Duke sold Splendon. It seems in America 
 they think a man can do what he hives with his own, if he 
 jiays fur it. And this mm no sooner got possession of the 
 place than he shut the public out altogether." 
 
 " It must have ipade a great change," said Sterling. 
 " "When I used to come here, Splendon was one of the show 
 places of the county, and every one had the use of the 
 woods and grounds as much as the Duke himself." 
 
 " More," said Mrs. Truddleoombe — " much more. Why, 
 we all rode and drove through the park just as we do through 
 the Queen's park at Windsor. Boats always stopped on 
 their way up and down at Splendon Woods. The Duke 
 would often only come down once a year to see that all was 
 in good order. Why, the whole place is now walled round, 
 and every avenue of approach guarded as if it were the sally- 
 port of a fortress." 
 
 " What a wretch ! " cried Lady jEnid. " Do pass me some 
 grapes, please. But what a selfish dog in the manger this 
 Walledoff must be." 
 
 " Not exactly dog in the manger. Lady iEnid, for he at 
 least enjoys his seclusion. But we who live in the neigh- 
 bourhood feel very sore. Why, only the other day Sir 
 Edward Rugby, who had ridden regularly through Splendon 
 for the last dozen years, was stopped at the lodge by 
 Mr. Walledoff's orders, and forbidden to enter. Mr. Walled- 
 offs orders were positive, said the man, and there was 
 nothing for it but to turn back." 
 
 " Then that," said Lady ^nid, " perhaps explains the 
 meaning of that ugly wall we noticed the other day." 
 
 " Probably," said Mrs. Truddleoombe, " that was his wall. 
 He has excited no end. of dislike in the district, and this 
 has even produced a pun from the stolid Berkshire rustic. 
 His name, you know, is Walledoff, and they say he is 
 Walledoff by name and Walledoff by nature. There is no 
 one who lives here but wishes the Duke back." 
 
 " It must make a great difference to every one," said 
 Mr. Sterling. " But why does he do it ? " 
 
 "A case of reversion," said Sterling, quoting Glogoul. 
 " Reversion to barbarism. Civilisation implies a certain 
 measure -of civility, and that seems to find scant favour in 
 some quarters." 
 
 " They say," said Mrs. Truddleoombe, " that he lives in 
 mortal dread of having his boy kidnapped, and so he builds 
 this wall round Splendon to keep him safe." 
 
 "And then sends his boy to Eton, where he could be 
 kidnapped any day ! No, that story won't hold water," said 
 Sterling. " I suppose it is simply and solely the desire to 
 do what you like with your own. Our jreers got that 
 knocked out of them sixty years ago. But these parvenus 
 of plutocracy have the lesson still to learn." 
 
 Lady Mnid laughed. " Don't look so miserable,'' she 
 said ; " come into the drawing-room and have some liiusio." 
 
 But though Sterling followed her into the drawing-room, 
 not even the merry music of Offenbach cleared the gloom 
 from his brow. 
 
 "It is a bad look-out for England," he said, "this 
 coming of the plutocrats. And if the Duke were to sell 
 Chatsworth ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LADY ^NID. 
 
 |1 1 HEX Sterling came down to breakfast next morning, 
 \XJ hfi found Lady ^Enid's chair empty. 
 
 " Where has my lady gone ? " said he to his wife. 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Sterling, " she left the kindest messages 
 for you ; but it was necessary for her to start early, in order 
 to get to Eastland before sunset." 
 
 " What \ " exclaimed Sterling. " You do not mean to say 
 that she is going to try and make it in one day ? " 
 
 " Tes," replied his wife. " The wind is from the west and 
 the roads are good, and she thought she could manage the 
 hundred miles without difficulty. So she packed her things 
 at five o'clock this morning, and, after breakfasting alone, 
 started at half-past six, leaving a note behind to say that she 
 had gone. I just caught a, glimpse of her gliding down the 
 avenue as I was getting up." 
 
 It was as Mrs. Sterling had said. At the time this con- 
 versation was taking place. Lady ^Enid was already twenty 
 miles away, and had just struck the main turnpike which 
 would take her within a few miles of -her destination. Lady 
 ^nid Belsover was the only child of Lord Belsover, one of 
 the most eminent but impoverished of English nobles. He 
 claimed his descent in direct line through Peveril of the 
 Peak to the Conqueror himself. The centuries as they had 
 passed, while they added to the antiquity of his house, had by 
 no means replenished the resources of his exchequer. For 
 the last two or three hundred years the Belsovers had con- 
 trived to keep up a tolerable appearance, living quietly on 
 their estates at Six Elms, jealously maintaining their ancient 
 traditions, preserving the family heirlooms, and from time 
 to time ekeing out their inadequate rent-roll by discharging 
 honourable and, remunerative services to the State. The 
 vicissitudes of the earlier generations of the Belsovers had 
 struck the family "less heavily than those of the last twenty 
 years. They had survived civil wars, acts of attainder. 
 Reform bills, and the Repeal of the Corn Law, always 
 contriving to keep their heads above water ; but the fall in 
 the value of agricultural produce had brought them within 
 hailing distance of bankruptcy. 
 
 Lord Belsover had seen it coming, and had done his best 
 to trim his sails to the wind; but an ancient mansion 
 and its fair domain can hardly be run on the cheap, and 
 after all his efforts he found it impossible to make both ends 
 meet; A colonial governorship which he held for five years 
 gave him a respite, but on returning-to- Six Elms at the 
 expiration of his term of office he found himself con- 
 fronted by the problem of how to keep up a position' 
 in the county with practically no resources. AVith wheat at 
 50s., OF even 40s. a quarter, the rent-roll of Six Elms enabled 
 its owner to live in frugal ease ; but when wheat sunk to 30s., 
 and dipping still lower, touched 20s. a quarter, blank ruin 
 stared him in the face. It was not merely that the margin' of 
 living income had disappeared, but me reduced rent-roll did 
 not even suffice to cover the running expenses of the estate. 
 
 Lady Belsover, a silent woman, whose early ambitious had 
 been somewhat cruelly oppressed by circumstances which 
 rendered it impossible for her to find scope for the natural 
 instincts of her somewhat lavish disposition, was the first to 
 realise the perils of the situation. She made up her mind to 
 face the worst. Belsover could not be carried on for long 
 unless a change came, and of a change there was no hope. 
 Rents were all dragging downwards, every year added to the 
 number of farms which were left upon their hands to be 
 cultivated at a loss. Her husband's party was out of office, 
 and even if they did return to power, she had little hope 
 that another Commissiohership or Governorship would 
 enable them to stave off impending ruin. 
 
 To keep up Belsover even on short commons entailed an 
 expenditure of a couple of thousand a -year, and expenses 
 could only be kept down to this figure by postponing all 
 repairs and reducing to the irreducible minimum the usual 
 outlay on hospitality. The Belsover estates, with a nominal 
 rent-roll of £12,000 a year, showed a net receipt of £1,50^ 
 after all charges had been defrayed, and last year's drought 
 had wiped out even that. Lady Belsover's dowry, which 
 was securely invested in Consols, brought in £500 a year, 
 and by this means they were able to scrape along with 
 difficulty. But prices were still tending downwards. Thfr 
 
Lady JEnid. 
 
 sanitary authorities were insisting upon the rebuilding of 
 some of the cottages upon the estate ; another large farm 
 was about to be thrown upon their hands. What was to 
 be done ? , , 
 
 The assets of the Belsover estates were comparatively few. 
 They consisted first of the land, which no one would -buy; 
 secondly,, Six Elms Hall, with its heirlooms and pictures; 
 thirdly, tady Belsover's jewels ; and fourthly, her daughter, 
 Lady ^nid, who was to be presented at Court next season, 
 and who, notwithstanding her lack of dower, had every 
 chance of carrying off the first prize in the marriage market. 
 The brief survey of realisable assets convinced Lady 
 Belsover that there was only one course to pursue. If they 
 could raise a mortgage on their estate that would enable 
 them to carry on for a short time. If that failed them she 
 could at least pawn or sell her diamonds for sufficient to 
 carry them over another year. As a last resort there were 
 the pictures, especially the great Raphael, which for two 
 centuries had been the glory of their house, and for which 
 they had repeatedly refused offers which would have kept 
 Belsover going for five or six years. By these means they 
 would be able to keep their heads above water until Lady 
 ^nid had made the match which they hoped would enable 
 them to contemplate the future with composure. 
 
 Lord Belsover acquiesced in his wife's proposals. What 
 else was there to be done ? The great thing was to keep 
 their heads above water. Something might turn up ; prices 
 might rally, and meanwhile he would postpone the evil day 
 as long as possible, and hope for the best. Lord Belsover's 
 consent his wife had taken for granted, as her custom was. 
 It was with more misgivings that she approached the 
 daughter, upon whose success in the marriage market 
 hung the future of Belsover. Lady Belsover was too 
 shrewd to broach the subject directly to Lady ^nid, who 
 was in the first exiiberance of youth, and had ripened in the 
 freer atmosphere of the colonies. Although the heiress of 
 the Belsovers could boast some of 'the bluest blood of England 
 in her veins. Lady JSnid had taken with a passionate 
 eagerness to the free, democratic ways of the Australians, 
 who had surrounded her when she entered her teens, and 
 whose ways of looking at things she had imperceptibly 
 adopted as her own. When she returned to the Old Country 
 she found great difficulty in reducing her free and easy 
 manners to the more conventional standard of Eng'ish 
 society. She chafed against its restraints,' and was never so 
 happy as when, in the comparative seclusion of Belsover 
 Park, she could give free scope to her natural energy. 
 
 " Oh, .iEnid, iBnid," her mother would often exclaim in 
 despair, when her daughter came in with streaming hair 
 and sunburnt face from a wild ride across countiy, " you 
 ought to have been born a boy ! " 
 
 " Don't say that," .iBnid once answered petulantly. " I 
 wish to heaven I had been ! I should have had some 
 chance then ! It was not my fault that I was born a girl. 
 I never should have been if the choice had bebn left to me." 
 
 Her mother sighed, but deemed it wiser not to argue with 
 the headstrong girl, feeling confident that the atmosphere of 
 society and the pressure of circumstances would reduce her 
 to docility. Nor was there absent a certain amount of 
 calculation in Lady Belsover's acquiescence in her daughter's 
 escapades. The one thing necessary was that Lady Maid 
 should marry, and marry well, which of course meant marry 
 wealth. 
 
 " Times are changing," thought Lady Belsover. " A 
 girl such as Mnid would have had no chance thirty 
 years ago. But who knows, what with the talk of the 
 ' New Woman ' on the one hand, and the chance which 
 mere originality and notoriety give to a girl, ^nid may 
 perhaps be instinctively following the shortest cut to the 
 
 indispensable goal. Certainly she will have a better chance 
 by following her own bent than if I were to attempt to reduce 
 her to the regulation pattern." 
 
 So it came to pass, partly from necessity, partly from cal- 
 culation, that Lady >3Enid was allowed to go her own sweet 
 way. With this result, tkjat at the age of nineteen she was 
 cyding her solitary way across country from Berkshire to- 
 Blanlrshire,. unattended by groom or chaperon, on her way 
 to her uncle's. 
 
 She lunched at the " Eoyal George."' There was only 
 one other guest at the hotel, a man of about five-and- 
 twenty, a cyclist like herself. He seemed indisposed to 
 conversation, and beyond a few. commonplaces about the roads 
 and the wind the meal passed in silence. When it was- 
 over he went out into the yard, leaving behind him the 
 paper which he had been reading when she entered. She 
 took it up and glanced at it. It was the Radical Bugleblast, 
 Lady JEnid looked at it with some curiosity,- and. her eye 
 wandering over the columns was attracted by a double- 
 leaded article in which the name of her uncle appeared 
 somewhat conspicuously. Hitherto, partly owing to her 
 absence from the country, and also to the disinclination of 
 a girl to concern herself with affairs in which she is not 
 permitted to take any responsible part. Lady ^nid had 
 bestowed so little attention upon politics as hardly to know 
 the issues on which they were spHt. The article in the 
 Bugleblast proclaimed the opening of a campaign against the 
 Duke of Eastland, whom she vaguely saw was regarded as-. 
 a kind of tyrant-incubus upon the district in which he lived. 
 The Radical candidate, one Edmund Wilkes, was on his way 
 to carry the fiery cross through the country-side where the- 
 Duke's influence had hitherto been supreme. She had read 
 so far when she was interrupted by the return of her com- 
 panion at lunch. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said. " I am afraid my tyre is 
 punctured. Have you a repairing outfit? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Lady .iEnid. 
 
 As Lady JEnid was getting the repairing materials from her 
 saddle-bag he was removing the tyre and proceeding to 
 immerse the tube in a tub of water which was standing in 
 the inn yard. There was no difficulty in locating the 
 puncture, for a stream of bubblfis rose to the surface of the 
 water, indicating plainly enough the source of the mischief. 
 A thorn piercing the outside tyre had punctured the air-tube. 
 But for his meeting with Lady ^Enid he would have been 
 practically crippled. As it was, a small patch was soon 
 placed over the hole, the tube replaced and inflated, the 
 wheel refixed, and the cycle was ready to start. 
 
 " By-the-bye," he said, " could you tell me how far it is to 
 Eigby?" 
 
 " About sixty miles, I think." 
 
 "Good roads?" 
 
 " Very, but rather hillj' ; at least, there is one stiff hill, 
 but you will have no difficulty in finding the road." 
 
 " Good-bye," he said, " and thank you ! " 
 
 Before she had time to reply he was rapidly cycling down 
 the road. " I am going the same way," she thought ti> 
 herself, " but I am glad he has got the start, as there will be 
 no temptation to racing.now." 
 
 Thereupon she looked to her tyres, and leisurely pedalled 
 along the northern road. 
 
 The day was warm and the sun high. For a long time 
 she pedalled along steadily, and after toiling up a long hill 
 she could not resist a sigh of delight as she saw a steep incline 
 stretching before her. It was easy at first, but seemed to 
 become steeper as it curved to the right. She could only 
 infer that the descent was rapid, for the road seemed to reach 
 the valley by Jarge curves. Lady ^nid was, however, too hot 
 and dusty to dream of losing -the chance of a splendid run- 
 
10 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 down hill, in spite of all the curves in Christendom. She 
 put up her feet and glided down the hill. As every cyclist 
 knows, there is nothing so exhilarating as a splendid run 
 ■downhill on a first-class machine. The speed, continually 
 increasing without effort, comes nearest to the sensation oif 
 flying, while a sense of danger is sufficiently present to give 
 a, fascination to the descent. Lady iEnid rode the first 
 strip of road with perfect ease, but on taking the- curve she 
 became aware that it was rougher riding than she. had 
 bargained for. Disdaining, howevei:, to use the brake, she 
 swept on, and, with continu,ally increasing speed-, rounded, 
 another curvei, when to her horror she saw,,standing in front 
 of her, waving both arms and shouting vigorously, her late, 
 companion at lunch. Immediately behind him the road 
 turned sharply to the left, and it was evident that there was 
 some obstruction 
 which led him 
 to stand' where 
 he did. 
 
 This flashed 
 thro.ugl^ her 
 mind in a mo- 
 ment. She , at 
 once put on- her 
 brake, but the 
 impeti^s with 
 which she was 
 going was too 
 gre.it , to be 
 ■checked ■ in a 
 few yards.' She 
 had a beivildec- 
 ing_ sense of 
 coming smash, 
 and then she wa^ 
 upon the man. 
 She swerved 
 slightly' to ■ oie 
 side in order to 
 clear him ; she 
 was suddenly 
 stopped, and her 
 machine ■ went 
 flying into the 
 hedge- on - the- 
 side of the road, 
 while she was 
 -grasped round 
 the -ivaist by^the 
 strong right arm 
 ■ofhercom- 
 l)anion, and fell heavily into the middle of the road. , > 
 
 Fortunately beyond a severe shakiiig she was not {lurt, 
 -and speedily scrambled to her feet. Her first impulse was; 
 one of blazing indignation, She was on the point of crying, 
 -" What the mtsohief did you -do that for ? " when she saw 
 that he had not rifen, but was still lying on the road appa"-' 
 rently unconscious. Her wrath vanished- in a moment, and 
 ■she knelt down to see what was the matter^ The young 
 man was lying on his side, breathing heavily. • She turned 
 liim over, a/ud going to the side of the road dipped, her 
 handkerchief into a pool of water at the bottorn-of a ditch, 
 jind returning wa«hed the dust off his face. The coolness of 
 the water revived him, and he opened his eyes. 
 
 " Are you hurt '? " she asked. 
 
 He moved uneasily and put his hand upon his chest. 
 Then she saw that in stopping her the handle-bar had struck 
 him on the chest with such force as to knock the breath out 
 of his body, and as he fell the shook had deprived him of. 
 
 SHE .WAS GEASPED EOUND THE WAtST 
 A STBONG ARM. ' 
 
 the little sense he had left. However, he was soon suf- 
 ficiently recovered to sit up. 
 
 "Now,'.' s,aid.,she, her wrath suddenly returning as she 
 saw he had recovered, " will you tell me why you spilled me 
 like that?" - - ,■-.., 
 
 "Look," he said ; " if I had not stopped you, you would 
 have charged right into' a flock of 'sheep which are coming 
 (ip the hill. I^was coming down the- hill with my brake on, 
 and saw them a sufficient distance : in advance to get oif 
 in time, I had caught a glimpse- of you flying behind, and 
 perceived in a moment that it was. a case of stopping you 
 or of -letting you run headlong into the flock of sheep, to the 
 ruin of your machine, and possibly. to the loss of your life. 
 So I didfihy best to stop you in time-." 
 Just at this moment the leading sheepof the flock, could 
 
 be seen coming 
 round the turn- 
 ing which parsed 
 through a pretty, 
 steep cutting, on 
 either side of 
 which the more 
 a d V e n t ur u s 
 animals were 
 nibbling the her- 
 bage, while the 
 main body were 
 completely 
 blocking the 
 roadway. 
 
 U,p to this 
 ■time -neiiher of 
 them had looked 
 , at the . machine, 
 which was lying 
 in a more or less 
 doubled-up con- 
 dition , on the 
 side of the road- 
 way. Support- 
 ing her com- 
 panion on her 
 arm. Lady JEnid 
 led him to the 
 roadside, an4 
 then began to 
 examine the 
 damage that had 
 lean done to her 
 machine. It 
 was much less 
 than appeared at first. It required a good deal of trouble, 
 however, to straighten the brake, the lamp ,was smashed 
 beyond repair, and the^ handle-bar was soon put back to 
 its proper position. As for her companion, he seemed to 
 have recovered with the exception of a shght stiffness in 
 one leg. After a while they mounted and rode slowly down 
 the hill. After riding thus for about half-an-hour he began 
 to fall behind. 
 
 " What. is the matter ? " she said. 
 
 "I am afraid- my right leg is hurt., I have been work^ 
 i-ng only with my left leg for some time." 
 
 " She stopped until he came up to her, and was pained to 
 see the wearied expression on his face. It was the firrit time 
 she had really looked at him. He was not more than five- 
 and-twenty, with yellow-brown hair slightly curled; his 
 features indicated an almost rude strength ; the whole 
 figure was full of the vigour of the athlete accustomed to the 
 ups and downs and the rough and tumble of life. 
 
THE WATER KEVIVED HIM, AND HE OPENED HIS EYES. 
 
12 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " I am so sorry,'' she said. " Can I help you ? " 
 
 " I don't see very well how, — — ; but I do not know 
 your name," he said. 
 
 " My name is Belsover — ^nid Belsover," she said simply. 
 
 " AVell, Miss Belsover, I do not see very well what you can 
 do for me, excepting to leave me to jog along as best I can, 
 until I come to a cart or something else that will give me a 
 Uft." 
 
 "Nonsense," said .lEaid. "I am not going to leave you 
 in distress, especially as the injury was received in endeavour- 
 ing to save me." 
 
 "Bat," said he, "what can you do?" 
 
 Lady ^nid hesitated. The man was a stranger, but 
 after all he was crippled, and it was she who had done it, 
 and the least she could do was to lend him a hand, so she 
 said, " Do ? — why I will give you a tow. You don't mind 
 taking my hand, do you ? " 
 
 He blushed, the blush showing red against the pallor of 
 his skin. " I cannot think of it. You have enough to do 
 without thinking of me." 
 
 " Oh," said Lady .Slnid, laughing. " There is no one so 
 pvoud as a man. If I had been lamed you would have 
 given me a hand, and seeing that it is you who are lamed, 
 why should I not do the same ? Believe me," she added 
 mockingly, " this is no disparagement to the superiority of 
 your sex. 'AH rights reserved,' and take it 'without 
 prejudice,' as the lawyers say." 
 
 Thereupon, seeing that the sun was setting and that he 
 had not much chance of getting on, he accepted her offer, 
 and grasped her extended hand. They started off again 
 with fresh heart. He was sad, and she was rather tired, 
 and there was not much conversation as the two pedalled 
 along side by side, till at last, at a turn of the road, she gave 
 a sigh of relief as she saw the towers of .Eastland .Castle in 
 the distance. 
 
 " Oh, there is Eastland. I am almost at home now." 
 
 "Eastland," said her companion'— " are vou going to 
 Eastland?" 
 
 "Certainly," she replied. "I forgot you were going to 
 Rigby, which is nearly five miles further on ; but when we 
 get to Eastland it will be all right; we will get you a 
 carriage and send you to your destination." 
 
 "Excuse me," said he rather coldly, "I cannot go to 
 Eastland, neither can I accept a carriage from the Duke." 
 
 Lady .lEnid looked at him in blank amazement ; then 
 suddenly what she had read in the Radical BugJeblast came 
 to her memory, and she said, " Excuse me, but is not your 
 name Mr. Wilkes ? " 
 
 " That is my name," said he shortly — " Edmund Wilkes, 
 at your service." 
 
 Whereupon Lady MmA burst into a merry laugh. 
 " What a joke," she said — " what a screaming joke ! " and 
 she laughed more heartily than ever. 
 
 " Excuse me," said he, rather tartly, " I do not see where 
 the amusement comes in." 
 
 Lady .lEnid stopped laughing and said, " I beg your 
 pardon, and I quite understand why you object to go to 
 Eastland. But for all that common humanity compels me 
 to insist that you shall at' least permit me to provide for 
 your conveyance to Eigby. Come now," she said imperiously, 
 " it is the least I can do. If you have saved my life, why 
 should I not show my gratitude by what is the country 
 equivalent to paying your cab fare ? No, not a word ; that 
 is settled." 
 
 Quickening her pace slightly, she rode up to the lodge 
 gates. 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Wilkes," she said, " you will prefer tn 
 remain here until I come with the carriage. But don't be 
 afraid ; no one will know who you are or anything about 
 
 you, and I will drive you over myself." Thereupon she 
 rode down the carriage-drive to the castle at a rate which 
 would lead no one to suspect that she was comjjleting her 
 hundredth mile. 
 
 Instead of going to the hall, she rode straight to the stable- 
 yard. 
 
 "John," she said to tlie groom who took her bicycle, 
 " get out the pony carriage at once." 
 
 The groom, who evidently was familiar with the impetuous 
 girl, answered, " Certainly, my lady." 
 
 " I cannot wait a moment," ^Enid said. " Let me have 
 the carriage at once, and don't teU any one I have arrived, 
 until I come back." 
 
 In a few minutes the carriage was ready, and jumping in 
 she rattled down the avenue as fast as she had come up. 
 But when she reached the lodge gates Mr. Wi.kes had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Dear me — how tiresome ! What idiots men are, to be 
 sure ! " and whipping the pony she drove off in tlie direction 
 of Rigby, after the departed cyclist. She had not far to go. 
 About half a mile down the road she came upon Wilkes 
 seated upon a stone-heap ruefully cohtemplating his 
 machine. 
 
 " Come, sir," she said, " you ought to have had more 
 sense." 
 
 Wilkes was evidently suffering; he raised himself with 
 difficulty and needed to be helped, half lifted, into the 
 carriage. Lady ./Enid then placed the bicycle on the front 
 seat agd started off for Rigby. Wilkes was chagrined and 
 mortified. He loathed to accept this favour from any one at 
 the castle ; while Lady jEnid, piqued at his refusal even 
 to allow her to acknowledge her indebtedness for his kindness, 
 was too human not to feel a little exultation over his dis- 
 comfiture. They drove on in silence in the gloaming until 
 they reached the outskirts of Rigby. Eigby was a manu- 
 facturing town which stood on the borders of the Duke's 
 estates. 
 
 "I will spare your feelings, Mr. Wilke=i," ^aid said, " by 
 not taking you any further. We will stop at the nearest 
 cab-stand. It would never do for you to drive up to the 
 ' Radical Arms ' in the Duke of Eastland's carriage." 
 
 Wilkes' eyes flashed fire. He bit his lips, but said nothing. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Lady ^nid ; " I should not 
 have said that. Forgive me, Mr. Wilkes, and thank you 
 for all you have done for me to-day." 
 
 Angry though he was, there was something about the 
 girl's face and demeanour which softened his ire. " Good- 
 bye, Miss Belsover," said he ; " you have been very kind." 
 Another moment and he was a'one, and Lady JEnid was 
 driving rapidly back to the castle. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DUKE OF EASTLAKD. 
 
 fHE dressing-b?ll was just ringing when Lady .(Enid 
 threw the reins to the servant and ran up the steps 
 into the hall. 
 "Aunty! where is aunty?" she shouted, and in 
 another moment she rushed up to the Duchess of Eastland, 
 who, hearing her voice, came forward to meet her. 
 
 " Oh, aunty, aunty, dear ! " cried the girl, throwing her 
 arms round her neck and kissing her, "I am so glad to 
 see you." 
 
 " Where has my harum-scarum, flibberty-gibbet come 
 from now?" said the Duchess, looking down upon her 
 tsnderly. " We were afraid that you had had an accident. 
 You know this habit of young girls riding across country all 
 alone is one which I am too old to appreciate. But come 
 
The Duke of EastlaTsfd. 
 
 13 
 
 my dear, we have not too much time, and you can tell me 
 all your adventures at the dinner-table." 
 
 But when Lady iEnid got into her room she began to 
 consider. The Duchess's words had roused a train of reflec- 
 tion. If she were to tell the story of her accident, she 
 would never be allowed to ride iione while she was at East- 
 land ; and as she intended to remain for a good while, she 
 did not relish such a'restrictionof her liberty. And, besides, 
 the more she thought of it the more clearly she came to the 
 conclusion that it would never do to confess her adventure 
 with Mr. Wilkes ; it might embarrass the Duke as much as it 
 had embarrassed Mr. Wilkes. Besides, she had promised that 
 no one should know the service she had rendered him. So 
 on the whole Lady JEnid decided, before she had' put the 
 last touches to her simple toilet; that she had much better 
 draw a discreet veil over the incidents connected with her 
 adventure. 
 
 Fortune favoured this resolve, for when she descended to 
 the drawing-room she found the whole place one hubbub, of 
 conversation concerning the approaching election. The 
 Conservative candidate, with his chief supporters, was 
 dining at the castle that night. In the hubbub of electoral 
 discussion, in which the ladies freely joined. Lady ,^nid 
 found no difficulty in keeping her adventures to herself. 
 
 In the eyes of the Duke of Eastland Lady JEniil was a 
 mere child whom he had never taken seriously, and who to 
 tell the truth had hardly taken herself seriously even now. 
 She was the favourite of the Duke's eldest daughter, Lady 
 Muriel, a slight fair girl of seventeen, wl^ose features showed 
 a budding beauty which in a few years would develop into 
 the "glory of perfected womanhood. The' Duke, an honest 
 painstaking peer, had the overlordship of a- great stretch of 
 the Eastern Counties, alike by tradition and inheritance. 
 Before the Eeform Bill the Dukes of Eastland had sent their 
 nominees to Parliament for all the boroughs within fifty 
 miles of Eastland Castle. Since the Eeform Act the Bast- 
 land interest had remained supreme in three counties. 
 After the emancipation of the county householder the East- 
 lands had lost two of the county divisions in which hitherto- 
 their interest had been in the ascendant. But the county 
 division in which Eastland Castle itself stood was regarded 
 as impregnable both by friend and foe. 
 
 Although by a fiction of the constitution it was supposed 
 that the Duke took no part in elections, it was perfectly well 
 known in the division that he was in deed and all but in 
 name the Great Elector. The Conservative Association, 
 which had its headquarters in the neighbouring town of 
 Eigby, and which was conventionally understood to manage 
 elections in the Conservative interest, was merely the veil 
 behind which the Duke exercised his power. Everything 
 was managed in strict accordance with the requirements 
 of the constitution, but the moment you pierced the veil it 
 was his Grace here, his Grace there, and his Grace at every 
 corner. The cost of registration, for instance, was met by 
 the Conservative Constitutional Association, but no one 
 knew better than the treasurer of that association that but 
 for the funds supplied by the Castle the association would 
 be in "Queer Street." The choice of the candidate was 
 ostentatiously left to the decision of the executive of the 
 Constitutional Association, but the boldest member of that 
 executive vyould never have dreamed of starting any candi- 
 date who had not previously secured the imprimatur of 
 the Duke. Yet no o.ie could truthfully allege that the Duke 
 used his power in any illegal or unconstitutional fashion. 
 
 His was the oldest family in the division. If the county 
 had to select by plebiscite one man who best knew the needs 
 of the country-side, and who was personally most trusted by 
 rich and poor, the Duke's name would have issued from the 
 ballot-box without a rival. Nearly one-half of the electors 
 
 in the division were either living on his property or earning 
 their daily bread by the tillage of his lands. In every good 
 work the Duke was foremost in his county, nor did he con- 
 sider good works in too narrow or skimpy a spirit. His 
 pack of foxhounds was one of the best in the Eastern 
 Counties. He subscribed alike to church and chapel. The 
 Duchess's balls were conspicuous as the meeting-place of all 
 sorts and conditions of residents in the county of Blankshire, 
 and Eastland Castle was the centre from which every kind 
 of iihilanthropic or social reformer found it easiest to reach 
 the uttermost corners of the county. It was therefore only 
 natural that a magnate with a traditional position confirmed 
 and established by his personal merits, entrenched behind 
 enormous wealth, and served by a multitude of willing and 
 devoted vassals, should be able to hold very cheajj all 
 attempts to assail his influence in his own county. ' 
 
 The Dukes of Eastland down to the repeal of the Corn 
 Laws had been Whigs, but they had never been able to see 
 the possibility of maintaining the landed interest unless it 
 were buttressed' by a Corn Law ; and when England veered 
 round to free -trade, the Dukes of Eastland went over bag 
 and baggage to the opposite camp. That they carried their 
 county with them goes without saying, and from that time 
 downwards the county of Blankshire had been one of the 
 strongholds of Conservative reaction upon which Lord Derby 
 and Lord Beaconsfield, no less than Lord Salisbury, had 
 confidently relied to stem the rising tide of Eadicalism. 
 
 The present Duke succeeded his' father shortly before 
 1880. He had been suspected of Whig proclivities, but they 
 were speedily checked by the development of the Irish 
 question, and among the 400 peers vfho thre^Jf out the Home 
 Eule Bill, there was none who gaive his vote with a heartier 
 conviction than the Duke of Eastland. All the sahie his 
 Grace was by no means easy in his mind. 
 
 " We are too strong," he kept saying," " we are too strong 
 — 400 to 40 is unnatural. Had we a majority of two to one 
 it would have been another matter, btit" ten to one is too 
 much." 
 
 The Duke, however, was too reserved and reticent to talk 
 about his own misgivings. He had travelled much and had 
 seen the evolution of democracy in iriany lands. He was 
 painfully conscious of the rancorous spirit of social hatred 
 that prevailed in certain quarters of the French nation 
 against the noblesse, and he recognised the full significance 
 of the fact, that in no English-speaking country among all 
 those which have been peopled from oiir shore's has a single 
 attempt been made to establish ah hereditary aristocracy, to 
 say nothing of an hereditary Chamber. Proud and sensitive" 
 as he was, he disdained to reply to the accusations which 
 formed the stock-in-trade of the' agitators in the press and 
 on the platform who habitually assailed his family and his 
 administration. Sometimes, when too flagrant a lie was 
 published, his agent would appeal to him to refute it. He 
 always refused. " These fellows must say something," he 
 would reply. "If you refute one lie they will invent 
 another. "You had better let them stick to their old stock- 
 in-trade. It makes no difference in the long run what they 
 say.", 
 
 In all county matters he was an ideal public servant. No 
 one was more constant in his attendance at Quarter Sessions 
 than he, and when they were superseded by the County 
 Council he was at once elected chairman, and took his place 
 with his titular and semi-feudal authority consecrated by 
 the votes of the householder-democracy. But although he 
 did his duty faithfully and well to the best of his power 
 and ability, he was penetrated with the conviction that the 
 end of the existing order was drawing near. How it would 
 come he did not know, but he was convinced that the old 
 landed interest of England was going under. He was 
 
H 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 one of the last of his race, standing guard over a fortress 
 ■niiich wa-i on the point of capitulating. 
 
 " We might have lasted," he would say to the Duchess, 
 who exhorted him to take a brighter view of things — " we 
 might have lasted for another century yet if we had had to 
 do with democracy alone. We could have weathered the 
 storms of the Reform Bills, hut we cannot stand up against 
 the consequences of Free Trade, and largely," he would 
 sometimes add, "we are falling by our own fault. An 
 absentee aristocracy is as a tree girdled for the axe of the 
 revolutionist. How many of us refused to lead when our 
 jjeople were clamouring to be led, and now how few of us 
 have the means, even if we had the opportunity, to take our 
 rightful place at the head of our counties ! When wheat 
 was quoted at 20s, a quarter, it registered our doom. Xo 
 power on earth can stand up against that. We are undone ;' 
 our order has no longer an economic foundation; we are like 
 men in charge of a sinking ship — we can at least stand to 
 our posts, but the hole yawns in our timbers, and the vessel 
 is steadily sinking before our eyes." 
 
 It may be imagined therefore that the Duke was not in 
 very good spirits when he welcomed the candidate and the 
 officials of the Conservative Association on the eve of what 
 promised to be the first serious attempt to deprive Eastland 
 of the prerogative which it had exercised for centuries. , 
 
 Lady JSnid understood little of the buzz of talk that 
 went on around her at the table, but she vaguely understood' 
 that these horrid Radicals Avere going 'to bring out a 6andi-. 
 date in opposition to the Dufce,; and that all present were 
 determined ' they would "give hiril"'such a lesson, that he 
 would not show his fecfe.'in' Blankshire in a hurry again. 
 Lady ^nid was cohSequently Verjr'glad when the ladies rose 
 and retired' fo the drawilig-rOoV, leaving the gentlemen to 
 talk over, their wine, undisturbed by the presence of the 
 more' frivolous 'sex. ' Ih the drawiijg-room, howevei':, Lady 
 .ailnid found'' the conterkation as political as it had been' 
 at the dinner-tfibie. Onte elderly lady, who wak'i Pr.imrose'" 
 Dame of high degree, waxed very eloquent in denunciation- 
 of the " Outrage," as she called it, of " fhat low-tred Radical 
 foisting himself upon the county to oppose the Marquis of 
 Bulstrode, who \vas not only the son of a duke,' but was the 
 chosen and appi'oved candidate of Eastland Castle. " What 
 is the world cdming 'to ? " she exclaimed indignantly. 
 " Why, only the other day I heard that a greehgrocer in' 
 Eigby, whose wife; had beeii laundry-maid in the castle,' 
 actually declared that he would vote for ' that low-bred 
 Radical. There is no such' thing as gratitude nowadays." 
 
 " Who is this Radifial ? " said iEnid to Muriel.' 
 
 " I really don't know," replied Muriel. " He is a total 
 stranger ; no one has ever met him before, but the Radical 
 Club in Rigby is bringing him out, and I believe he had to 
 make his first speech to-night. Probably the meeting is 
 being held at this moment." 
 
 The Duchess made a sign to her daughter, who at once 
 crossed the room. Returning, Lady Muriel said that her 
 mother had asked her to go down to the office where they 
 had arranged to have the progress of the Radical meeting 
 reported by telephone. There was a strong feeling in the 
 Constitutional Party, she said, in favour of breaking up the 
 meeting by sending a large contingent of Loyalists to the 
 meeting. They had issued such urgent appeals against any- 
 thing of the sort, that they hoped the meeting would be 
 held in peace. Still they were uneasy, as any violence on 
 the part of the Unionists might irreparably damage the 
 Castle cause. It was therefore necessary to have reports, and 
 their agent in Rigby would telephone any news that there 
 might be, so that they might be relieved of all anxiety 
 before separating. The two girls eagerly accepted the com- 
 mission, and went downstairs to the office, where the 
 
 attendant was in charge of the telephone. He said that 
 no message had been received, but that he would ring up 
 and ask. In response to his inquiries they learned that 
 the Radical meeting had been postponed ; no one knew 
 why, but they were making inquiries, and would tele- 
 phone later. Great was the jubilation in the drawing- 
 room, and afterwards in the dining-room', when this 
 message was repeated. But curiosity was on tiptoe as to 
 the cause of the sudden abandonment of the Radical attack. 
 The girls, nothing loath, went back to wait for the next 
 message. Hardly had they entered the room than the 
 message was received. " Radical meeting postponed, owing 
 to accident to Radical candidate. Leg broken or some other 
 accident, rendering it impossible for, him to appear." 
 
 Lady ^Unid slightly quivered when she heard the message. 
 
 " I did not think it was as bad' as that," she said, half to 
 herself. 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Muriel, sharply. 
 
 " Nothing," said ^nid. " I only said I did not think it 
 was anything so bad as an accident which had led to the post- 
 pon'enlent of the meeting." 
 
 When they returned to the drawing-room and delivered 
 the message, a feeling of complacent satisfaction went 
 through those present. 
 
 "Quite providential," said the old Primrose Dame to Lady 
 ^Enid, ' -iVho was standing near, who could not resist the 
 temptation of remarking — [ 
 
 "What an odd thing for Providence to do, is itnot?" 
 ' "True," said the old lady, pot noticing the girl's face, "it 
 ■\vould have been so much better if Providence .had broken 
 his neck." '■ ' 
 
 Lady jEnid felt so savage at the brutality of the old lady's 
 remark that she would have said somiething very rude had 
 there not been a general stir through the room as the 
 gentleinen entered. ' 
 
 "Well, what have yoia settled? ".asked her Grace of the. 
 Chairman of the, Constitutional Association. 
 
 " Lord Bulstrode will take ' the field at once, and there 
 IS no doubt that we shall 'be able to give a very good 
 account of ourselves." 
 
 - "Who is theRadical candidate, may I ask ? " 
 
 . " Oh, the poor fellow "who has broken his leg ! " said the chair- 
 man. " I really do not know. But let me present to your Grace 
 the editor of the Righy Fughman ; he knows all about him." 
 
 - The editor of the Fugleman bowed and coloured up to the 
 roots' of his sandy-coloured hair. He had been a foreman- 
 printer a year or two ago, and this was his first introduction' 
 to high life. 
 
 " Do tell us who is our opponent, Mr. Spitz.'' 
 
 " His name," said the editor somewhat pompously — " his 
 name, it is Edmund Wilkes. He is believed to have been 
 descended from John Wilkes, of whom you have, of course, 
 heard." 
 
 " Yes," she rephed smiling ; " but how comes he into this 
 county ? " 
 
 " A case of natural selection, your Grace. He naturally 
 ought to be one of us. His father is a country gentleman 
 in Gloucestershire. He is, indeed, quite well to do, has a 
 great deal of money invested somewhere, I don't know 
 how, but said to be very wealthy. Well-educated, too, so 
 that he cannot have the excuse of ignorance for his mis- 
 conduct. Took honours at Cambridge they say. But quite 
 bitten with Socialism, he is a Land Nationaliser and a 
 member of the Fabian Society, and I do not know how 
 many other horrid things. We could not have had a better 
 candidate to rally round the castle all the Conservative 
 forces of the county ; and your Grace," said he, seeing an 
 opportunity of blowing his own trumpet, " may rely upon 
 it that the Bighy Fugleman will do its duty." 
 
The Radicals of Rigb^. 
 
 15 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said her Grace, smiling pleasantly, 
 while the treasurer of the Constitutional Association, who 
 was standing near, with diflBculty repressed a broader smile, 
 for the lligby Fugleman was a " kept " organ, and the 
 cheque which met its quarterly deficit came from the castle 
 treasury. " Of course Mi'. Spitz wa» not expected to know 
 this, for it is best to allow editors to imagine that they are 
 doing themselves to death for the pure love of a sacred cause, 
 when in reality they are simply engaged in the prosaic task 
 of earning their daily bread. 
 
 the cab. In getting him out of the vehicle they twisted his 
 knee, and the shock of the^ pain recalled him sufficiently to 
 consciousness to enable hiiu to explain what had happened. 
 They summoned a doctor, who said that the muscles of the 
 knee had been badly strained, and that he must on no account 
 put his foot to the ground for a week. Great was the chagrin 
 of the committee, but the pallor of Mr. Wilkes' face, and 
 the obvious impossibility of his being able to endure any 
 physical fatigue, convinced even the most turbulent that 
 there was nothing for it but to postpone the meeting. 
 
 "let me present to touk grace the editor of the 'rigby fugleman.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 the radicals of rigby. 
 
 I HEN Mr. Edmund Wilkes found himself dep)osited at 
 the cab-stand at the entrance of the town of Rigby 
 he was painfuUy conscious of the fact that the 
 injury to his knee was much more serious than he 
 anticipated. He hobbled with difficulty to the nearest cab 
 and desired to be driven to the "Radical Arms," where a 
 committee would, he knew, be waiting to receive him. Such 
 indeed was the case, and when the cab drove up to the door 
 of the hotel, great was the dismay of the committeemen to 
 find their candidate in a dead faint inside the vehicle. The 
 cabman explained that the gentleman had been driven up' 
 by a lady, that he was quite lame, and must have fainted in 
 
 Immense was their disgust at having to abandon their first 
 attack, but there was nothing for it but to yield with as 
 good a grace as possible. The committee broke up in iU- 
 humour, which, however, was somewhat alleviated when on 
 passing the Town HaH they found it surrounded by a dense 
 crowd of tteir political opponents, who had taken up 
 positions at all the doorways with the view of entering the 
 building and preventing a word of Radical oratory being 
 heard. When some half hour afterwards the crowd were 
 informed that the meeting had been abandoned owing to 
 -an accident which had befallen the Radical candidate, there 
 arose a contemptuous storm of cheers, for they were con- 
 vinced that the accident was a put up job in order to save 
 the Radicals from what, it was evident, would have been 
 a complete fiasco. 
 
i6 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 The town of Eigby, with which Mr. "Wilkes was mating 
 his first acquaintance under such unfavourable circumstances, 
 was the one Radical stronghold in the county. Its Radicali>m 
 dated from the time of the rivalry between town and country 
 which came to a head in the great Free Trade struggle. 
 Kigby, crowded with artisans, went for the cheap loaf, while 
 the oojintry round about it, which was a wheat-producing dis- 
 trict, went solid for Protection. Bigby as a borough, how- 
 ever, had its own member, and the contagion of its Radicalism 
 was not sufficient to leaven the agricultural district of which 
 it was the natural capital. The greater part of the ground 
 on which Rigby stood belonged to the Duke of Eastland, 
 and it was the ground-rents of Eigby which enabled the 
 Duke to stand the racket of the ruinous fall of rents. If 
 Rigby, however, had done much for the Duke, the Duke, in 
 Jiis turn, had done much for Eigby. A statue to his 
 predecessor stood conspicuously in the market-place, and an 
 inscription recorded the fact that the new market had been 
 laid out and presented to the town by the Duke of Eastland, 
 who also had rebuilt the town-hall and laid out the public 
 park for the benefit of the citizens. The living of the 
 parish church was in the gift of his G-race, and the 
 Ii'uylemau was practically his kept paper. Against influence 
 so pervading, so subtle, and so powerful it was infevitable 
 that there should be a strong revolt. Human nature, 
 ■especially British human nature in a provincial town, dislikes 
 to be perpetually told that the patronage of the castle .goes 
 to your neighbour and not to yourself. Those who from 
 one cause or another were, or believed themselves to be, in 
 the black books of the castle, succeeded in forming them- 
 selves into a tolerably strong party of Anti-Eastlandei's. It 
 was the old story of Aristides over again. They had no 
 fault to find with the Duke, but he was a duke, and they 
 met him at every turn and were heartily sick of him, and 
 wished to be done with him once for all. In the ■ latter days 
 this"party, which had always existed in the town, had been^ 
 re-inforced by the Socialist agitation, which had spread from 
 London on the one hand and from Norwich on the other, 
 and had as its objective the taxation — or as the more candid 
 Socialists expressed it — the confiscation of the Duke's 
 ground-rents. 
 
 The Duke's property included the best sites in the town, 
 and was in the best condition. It had from of old been a 
 tradition of the Eastland estate never to grant a lease 
 excepting on conditions which enabled the agent practically 
 to dispossess a leaseholder who brought the- property into 
 disrepute, and it was the exercise of this reserve power in 
 the case of a publican and jerry-builder that gave the Duke 
 of Eastland his most virulent opponent in the town of 
 Rigby. This man, Joseph Brassy by name, had succeeded 
 to the lease of a fully-licensed house on the Duke's property. 
 The license was transferred without any objection being 
 made to the character of the new lessee, but after a time 
 the conduct of the house began to attract the attention of 
 the police. TTrom being one of the "best 'conducted -of the 
 old hostelries of the town, it became under Joe Brassy's 
 management the rendezvous of .all , the poachers of the 
 ■countryside. AVhenever the police wanted a doubtful, 
 character they could find him or traces of him in the parlour 
 of the " Eed Dragon." Eaids were arranged there, and were 
 carried out by gangs working into each other's hands in 
 remote districts, so as to distract the attention of the police 
 and throw the keepers off the scent. The Eastland estates 
 were not strictly preserved, and the tenants had more of 
 such game as there was than the Duke himself. But along 
 with the poachers, many of whom were professionals from 
 London, there came professionals of another sort, and of the 
 other sex, who established a centre of disorder and demoralisa- 
 tion in the town, so as to compel public reference in the 
 
 Press, and subsequently n the town council. The local 
 Eadical organ was very sarcastic concerning his Grace the 
 Duke's disorderly house, and at last, after many warnings, 
 the Duke's agent availed himself of the reserved right in 
 the lease and turned Brassy out. This started him with a 
 grievance. Being unable to obtain a license, owing to his bad 
 character, he opened a temperance hotel in some of his own 
 jerry-built property in one of the lowest parts of the town, 
 where he was shrewdly believed by the police to do a good 
 deal of shebeening, especially on Sundays. If this was the 
 case, it was carried on so secretly that they were unable to 
 secure evidence sufficient for conviction. 
 
 Brassy at once threw himself viciously into the campaign 
 against the Duke. He was a powerful sj)eaker, and now 
 that he had opened a temperance hotel he became the 
 sworn ally of the temperance people, who at first looked at 
 him rather askance, remembering how lately he had been 
 holding the license of a public-house, but finally passed an 
 act of oblivion on his behalf, and welopmed him to the fold 
 as a useful ally against the other publicans. 
 
 Brassy was present at the " Eadical Arms " when "Wilkes 
 arrived, and had succeeded in inspiring the Radical candi- 
 date with an unconquerable disgust. The keen sensitive- 
 ness of the young man detected in a moment the false 
 ring of Brassy's protestations, and when he called subse- 
 quently to inquire after the candidate's health the candidate 
 .absolutely refused to see him. The man was surprised and 
 offended, for he knew that "Wilkes, so far from being too 
 unwell to see any one, had had a long conversation on the 
 previous day with the Congregational minister, who had 
 called upon him on a similar errand. 
 
 The Rev. Ebenezer Brown was, however, an altogether 
 difierent sort of man from Brassy, with whom he reluctantly 
 • consented to act " for the .sake of the cause " — that formula 
 which has covered so many strange alliances. Ebenezer 
 Brqwn was a comparatively young man, delicate and intense, 
 wearing his life out with the strenuousness of the exertions 
 he was making to pitchfork Eigby into the Kingdom of 
 Heaven with one stroke, as a rustic pitches a sheaf of 
 corn to the top of the stack. Eigby, however, as the 
 young minister said, "was swollen hard with wickedness 
 and sin," and was saturated with the conservatism of some 
 oentui-ies of history of which it affected to be not a little 
 proud. Brown was unmarried, an exception among Non- 
 conformist ministers, one .of those exceptions whichi. not 
 only prove the rule, but which illustrate its general' utility. 
 For if Brown had been moored to this world by the soft 
 loving arms of a wife and child he would never have 
 wandered away into the fantastic idealism which was the 
 chief characteristic of his ministry. The young minister, 
 full of fervour, nourished himself on the denunciations 
 of the Hebrew prophets, and Sunday after Sunday preached 
 against those who added field to field and house to house, so 
 that his more impressionable hearers shuddered, and the 
 older pewholders whispered to each other approvingly, 
 " Ain't he givin' it 'eni hot ! " Brown kept it up weekday 
 and Sunday, faithfully following his duty as he conceived 
 it. " Btown was a Fabian and a diligent reader of the" London 
 Daily Tribune, from which, as from an inexhaustible cruse, 
 the fires of social Eadicalism were every day replenished. 
 Everything that went wrong in town or country was- debited 
 to the existing social order, and the Duke as the local head 
 of the social system came in for no small share of the 
 objurgations of this dissenting Boanerges. "Witk his dia- 
 tribes against the powers that be, were mingled eloquent 
 descriptions of the glories of the time that was coming, 
 when everything that is would be turned upside down, and 
 when everything that now belonged to the individual would 
 belong to the collective whole. " "Whatever is, is wrong,"' 
 
The Radicals of Rigby. 
 
 17 
 
 might be taken to be the starting-point of his gospel; 
 and while he admitted tliat there might be donbts as 
 to whether the salvation of mankind was to ba brought 
 about by the adoption of coUeoiivism, hs was quite willing 
 to chance it. 
 
 But no One. could meet him wifflout being convinced of 
 his transparent sincerity 
 and of the enthusiasm 
 that consumed him. Of 
 this he had given an ex- 
 ample not many months 
 befc re. One of the lead- 
 ing me.nbers of his con- 
 gregation, a trustee of 
 the church, and a deacon 
 whose contributions were 
 believed to be the largest 
 of any individual in the 
 fold, carried on a flourish- 
 ing business under the 
 sign of the Three Balls. 
 He was, in fact, the lead- 
 ing pawnbroker in Eigby. 
 Xu one among all Mr. 
 Brown's congregation had 
 drunk in so eagerly all 
 that was said as tcj 
 the iniquities of land- 
 lordism and the duty of 
 nationalising the land, 
 but he could hardly be- 
 lieve his ears one Sunday 
 when he heard from the 
 pulpit an energetic ap-. 
 jieal for the munioipali.-a- 
 tion of the pawnshop. 
 There was no mistak- 
 ing Mr. Brown's earnest- 
 ness. He took his text 
 from Leviticus, and illus- 
 trated it with facts and 
 figures .quoted from Mr. 
 Donald's articles in the 
 weekly paper London, 
 jjroving beyond all doubt 
 that our pawn .system 
 was less Christian, nay, 
 less , human even, than 
 was the Jewish system, 
 and that we had lagged 
 far behind the more civi- 
 lised nations of the Conti- 
 nent. 
 
 Mr. Tantrum's face 
 during the delivery of 
 this sermon was a study 
 to behold. So at least 
 the congregation seemed 
 to think, for they looked 
 at him all the time they 
 were not gazing at Mr. 
 Brown ; in fact, the minister seemed to be the only, 
 person in the building unaware of the effect which his 
 •discourse was producing upon Mr. Tantrum. When he 
 had dismissed the congregation and descended from the 
 pulpit, he found the deacons in vain endeavouring to 
 control the fury of the indignant Tantrum. The moment 
 the pale face of the minister appeared at the doorway of the 
 vestry, Mr. Tantrum flew at him as if he would have 
 
 ME. TANTRUM FLEW AT HIM AS IF TO KNOCK HIM DOWN. 
 
 knocked him down. " How dare you, sir,'' said he — " how 
 dare you try to take away a man's living in the very house 
 of God — a house, too, which me and mine have done more 
 than any other people in Eigby to build and maintain ! " 
 
 " But, Mr. Tantrum " 
 
 "Diin't Tantrum me," said that worthy, "not another 
 
 word from your lips ! 
 To think of , all these 
 years that I have sup- 
 ported this cause ! I call 
 it downright robbery, sir 
 — robbery ! .1 helped to 
 build this chapel as a 
 house of prayer, and 
 behold ! . you are making 
 it a den of thieves!" 
 Whereupon Mr. Tantrum 
 shook off the dust from 
 his feet upon the 
 taliernacle, the doors of 
 which he never again 
 deigned to darken. The 
 following Sunday he at- 
 tended the parish church 
 with his family, and the 
 next number of the Bigly 
 Fugleman announced that 
 Mr. Tantrum, "that' 
 eminent and distinguished 
 citizen," had formally 
 severed his connection 
 with the Eadical Associa-. 
 tion, and had applied for 
 enrolment in the Conser- 
 vative Club. Mr. Brown 
 mourned over his de- 
 fection, but so innocent 
 was he of the world's 
 ways, that he could not 
 for the life of him under- 
 stand the suggestion of 
 his deacons, that in, 
 future, when he ventured 
 to deal with any subject 
 which was somewhat out 
 of the usual course, he 
 should take counsel with 
 the officers of the church. 
 With this fervent 
 apostle , of collectivism 
 Mr. Wilkes found many 
 points of agreement, and 
 together they discussed 
 the best way of conduct- 
 ing the campaign against 
 the Duke. The two men, 
 very dissimilar in their 
 theological standpoint, 
 were nevertheless at one 
 in a fierce impatience of 
 the evils of the present 
 social system. Botli were young, and both were so consumed 
 with compassion for the sufferings of those whose hardships 
 they realised, that for the mere o'lance of relieving them 
 they were ready to sacrifice the interests of all other sections 
 of the community. 
 
 But what was much more serious from the political point 
 of view was their utter inability to measure the forces of 
 resistance or to adequately estimate the quality of the 
 
 C 
 
i8 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 troops upon whom they depended for support. Because the 
 individualistic system had worked and was worlting cruel 
 injustice to multitudes, therefore they considered it was a 
 case of " Sound alarums and advance all along the line " to 
 make a clean sweep of the accursed thing. But they had 
 no idea of how strongly entrenched was the enemy, or how 
 few and straggling and ill-disciplined were the hosts which 
 could foUow their lead. 
 
 The Eev. Ebenezer Bro\vn saw the battle afar off, as a 
 kind of preliminary skirmish of the battle of Armageddon, 
 and prayed and preached and canvassed in the sincere and 
 honest belief that he was contributing his mite to fulfilling 
 the prophecies of Micah and Isaiah, upon whose inspired 
 words he nourished his soul. Mr. Wilkes studied Karl Marx 
 more than the Old Testament, and candidly avowed that he 
 regarded the Bible chiefly as a useful arsenal from which he 
 could extract texts with which to barb the shafts he 
 launched at the enemy. In this he was no inapt pupil of 
 Mr. Labouohere, the English politician who has most pf the 
 letter and least ,of the spirit of Scripture in his discourses. 
 But notwithstanding their different standpoints, he felt the 
 true handgrip of mutual faith and mutual confidence, and 
 Ebenezer Brown, in the secrecy of his closet, poured out long 
 and passionate supplications that the Lord of all mercy, who 
 had led His servant so far along the true path, would vouchsafe 
 the further blessing of illuminating his soul with Divine grace, 
 and enable him to see the true bearing of the present social 
 struggle amid the eternal plans of the Providence of God. 
 
 Another member of the Radical committee who was 
 hardly less interesting to Wilkes, and who was always 
 welcome to the room in which he lay nursing his knee, was 
 John Hopton, the secretary of the Trades Council of Bigby. 
 Hopton was a man of thirty, and much more practical than 
 either Wilkes or Brown. He had begun life as a crow-boy at 
 the age of ten, and had picked up such book learning as he 
 possessed in the intervals of a life of continuous labour. 
 Hopton had from his youth formed an almost superstitious 
 reverence for the principle of association. Nothing was 
 more constantly on his lips than Mazzini's declaration that 
 the era of individualism was at an end, and the epoch of 
 association had begun. In his eyes the mere principle 
 of association was the sum and substance of all religion — 
 the key of all progress and tlie one hope for men 
 on earth. He promoted unionism as a Jesuit preaches 
 Catholicism. It was to him the one hope of the world. It 
 was owing to his initiative that the various straggling 
 1'rades Unions of Rigby were joined together in a Trades 
 Council, and it was to his powerful influence and persuasive 
 eloquence that the council, after being constituted, continued 
 to live and thrive. Hopton was a mechanic employed in an 
 agricultural implement factory, and he had steadily refused 
 all proposals to quit his forge for the Town Council or even 
 for a higher position. Sincere and enthusiastic, he had 
 neither time nor opportunity to study very deeply questions 
 social, political, or economic. What he saw with his rough 
 instinct was that, as every Church had found it necessary to 
 have a devil, so in his own Church, founded on the principle 
 of association, it was necessary to have some incarnation of 
 evil which would act as a constant incentive to action, and 
 would serve as a bond of union. This incarnation of the 
 Evil One he found in the Duke and the system which he 
 j-epresented. Of the Duke personally he had nothing to say 
 but what was pleasant ; but the system which he represented 
 — that of hereditary power and the principle of class and caste 
 distinction — he regarded as emanating from the bottomless 
 pit, and he went for it with a whole-hearted enthusiasm 
 which, together with the religious enthusiasm of Brown, 
 made up three-quarters of the working catpital of the 
 Radicals of Rigby. 
 
 CHAPTER "V. ' 
 
 THE COUXTY OF BLASKSHIBE. 
 
 Viy HE -county of Blankshire, which haol Eastland Castle 
 \yj as its governing centre in old times, was .one of the 
 ^^ worst hit by the agricultural depression. The heavj"- 
 clays which enable it to produce wheat were once 
 the despair of agriculturists elsewhere^ but since Indian 
 wheat had driven the price down to eighteen shillings a 
 quarter, the land was practically unsaleable. Rents had 
 fallen year after year, until the margin of landlord's profit 
 had ceased to exist. Land, in fact, in Blankshire had 
 touched prairie value, and in many cases had gone 
 below it. The Duke of Eastland, for instance, with a. 
 rent-roll of £25,000, was receiving half the amount 
 drawn by his father only twenty years before. In 1875 
 the rent-roll of Eastland was about £50,000 per annum. 
 Of this sum about £25,000 was spent in maintaining 
 the estate and the various charges with which it was 
 encumbered. These charges had not been diminished,, 
 neither had the cost of keeping up the estate decreased 
 one iota; and the result was that while the spending, 
 charges had remained the same, the actual income had 
 fallen fifty jjer cent. The Duke was left practically without 
 an income, every farthing being hypothecated before, it came 
 to his hands. His father had sunk, in the improvement of 
 the estate, in erecting labourers' cottages, in rebuilding farm- 
 houses, and in bringing the land up to the high standard 
 demanded by. scientific agriculture, nearly a million sterling. 
 The Duke had added to this a further outlay of a quarter of 
 a miUion. What is called the net rent-roll, therefore, was- 
 hardly two per cent, upon the actual capital spent in the last 
 fifty years in the improvement of the estate. Actual 
 rent, as an Irish laadlord understands it, that is to say, 
 payment made by the tenant for land without improve- 
 ments, had ceased to exist. The Duke of Eastland, would 
 have been practically penniless had he not had two other 
 sources of revenue. First, there were the ground-rents of 
 Rigby, and secondly, the dower of his wife. He .had. 
 married a banker's daughtei', and her dowry, together with 
 the ground-rents, enabled him to keep up. the ancient style 
 of the Dukes of Eastland without cohf easing to the outer 
 world the decay of the ducal resources. 
 
 The day after the Constitutional Association had dined at 
 the castle the Duke was closeted with the secretary of the- 
 association and the Conservative agent, whom he had 
 summoned to the meeting. The agent was a new man 
 f.om London, Wirham by name, sent down by Captap 
 Middleton to undertake the organisation of the campaign on- 
 behalf of the Marquis of Bulstrode. Wirham was quick,. 
 keen, and energetic. He was clean-shaven, plainly dressed^ 
 but. in excellent taste. He- spoke little, but seized points 
 with the rapidity of a thrush picking up the early worm 
 from the castle lawn. He knew nothing of Blankshire 
 excepting, as he remarked, that it existed. Would they 
 kindly consider that he knew absolutely nothing of , their 
 local affairs and instruct him accordingly. " It is always 
 the best way," he said apologetically, " to regard the agent 
 in such circumstances as the present as a sheet of blank 
 paper on which you must write the latest information aS: 
 you know it. Not untfl that is done can lie even so much 
 as outline the plan of campaign." 
 
 " I think we understand," said the Duke. " The situa- 
 tion, unfortunately, is very simple. The key of the situation 
 is to be found in the fact that wheat was quoted at Coleford 
 Mai-ket yesterday at 18s. a quarter. In Blankshire," con- 
 tinued the Duke, "the situation is about as bad as bad 
 can be. This is equally the case whether it is regarded from 
 th3 political or the social point of view." 
 
The County of Blanksh-ire. 
 
 19 
 
 " Would you explain," said Mr. Wirham, " exactly how 
 it affects Blankshire." 
 
 The secretary replied, " It affects it at every point and in 
 every portion. The distress is already attaining lamentable 
 proportions. The great failure ^ crops, which last year 
 resulted from the -drought, led to reductions of wages in all 
 directions, and what is much worse, to the throwing out of 
 employment many labourers. AVages in Blankshire are 
 always very low ; but they have gone down during the last 
 few wesks to starvation point. In one district the agri- 
 cultural labourers are not receiving more than 8s. a week, 
 and they are glad to get that. In the Eigby Union work- 
 house there are at the present moment sixty more inmates 
 than ever before at this time of the year. Usually the 
 labourer succeeds in tiding over the October and November 
 months by means of the earnings he has made during the 
 harvest. But last jear there was hardly any harvest to 
 gather. The outlook is very serious." 
 
 " That is bad for the labourer, no doubt, and for the little 
 tradesmen, yet our strength does hot lie with the labourers, 
 but with the landlords. Are they holding their own ? " 
 
 The Duke smiled grimly. 
 
 " In Blankshire nearly every large place is either let or 
 shut up, owners being unable to pay more than the taxes and 
 rates on their properties. They are powerless to sell, tho 
 estates being entailed. The labouring class does not proSt 
 by this. They work for strangers who may or may not take 
 an interest in them, but who more often, having no old 
 associations in the jDlace, refuse the sympathy and ready 
 help that the old landlord's family took in every man, woman 
 and child on his estate. The inhabitants of the villages 
 round depend on work from the great house and estate — ■ 
 forty years' service being common to the men. These have 
 to be pensioned or starve. A man prefers to let his place to 
 the rich parvenu rather than turn off his dependents and 
 live in the midst of them in their distress." 
 
 A map of Blankshire was sjiread out before them; It was 
 a picture in itself. It was coloured all over with black 
 patches as if they had been sprinkled over it froni a pepper- 
 caster, and each black patch represented a farm which had 
 gone out of cultivation from the impossibility of finding 
 any one who would work it oven rent free. Quite as con- 
 spicuous upon the map were the round discs of white which 
 were jjasted at irregular intervals over the county. On 
 closer examination these were found to mark the seats of 
 country gentlemen which were now untenanted or left in 
 the charge of caretakers owing to the hard times. It seemed 
 as if more than half the country places in Blankshire were 
 empty. 
 
 " It is a bad showing,'' said the secretary as he handed a 
 list of the polling districts to Mr. Wirham. " In three 
 quarters of these divisions we have not a country gentleman 
 left." 
 
 " Is it so bad as that ? " queried Mr. Wirham. 
 
 " It is indeed," said the Duke. " I have carefully gone 
 through the county list, and you can see at a glance how the 
 depression has thinned our ranks. Property," he continued, 
 " has a very reduced gaixison in Blankshire. We are very 
 much in the position of a general after a Pyrrhic victory. 
 All our strongholds have been depleted by the hard times, 
 and there is hardly any one left to hold the fort." 
 
 "What about Sloane HaU," asked Mr. Wirham; "are 
 things better there ? " 
 
 " No," said the secretary. " I am sorry to say that things 
 are very bad. The young earl is almost the only landowner 
 in the county left who has any amount of mohey to spare. 
 He is squandering his fortune. I was over there the other 
 day, and the ^lace is a regular hotbed of Radicalism. If we 
 should lose the seat " 
 
 The Duke visrbly winced, but the secretary went on 
 stolidl}', " If we lose the seat it will be more owing to the 
 blackguardism of Lord Bladud than to anything else." 
 
 "I should hardly have thought that Lord Bladud's 
 extravagance would have liad precisely that efi'ect," remarked 
 Mr. Wirham. "It is not the spending of money, but the 
 withholding of it, which loses elections." 
 
 " That is no doubt true," replied the secretary. " But 
 circumstances have changed. The Countess, whom Lord 
 Bladud has treated so shamefully that she had to appeal to 
 the Divorce Court, was well known and liked in the neigh- 
 bourhood. There is a great deal of sympathy with her." 
 This might not have mattered had it not been that the 
 Methodists have a terrible tub-thumper in the neighbour- 
 hood, who seems to imagine that the mantle of Juhn the 
 Baptist has fallen upon him, and he denounces Bladud and 
 his mistresses in every conventicle in the countryside. The 
 Socialists have taken it up, and quote Lord Bladud as a 
 typical example of the whole of the aristocracy. There, 
 they sa_y, you have an accurate object-lesson of what the 
 Peers do with the tribute they wring from the People." 
 
 " They are working it hard," added the Duke; " I hear 
 they are circulating a report of the Countess's proceedings in 
 the Divorce Court, at the bottom of which is printed the 
 single line, ' These be your rulers, Israel.' " 
 
 " How does the closing of these country places affect the 
 electorate ? " asked Mr. Wirham. 
 
 "Almost always for the woj-se," said the Duke. "The 
 shutting up of the country houses means less work and more 
 starvation. Eadicalism is only hunger in dilution." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Radicals have niuch chance of 
 defeating the Marquis of Bulstrode ? " asked Mr. Wirham. 
 
 "No, things are not so bad as that. But tliere is no 
 doubt that for the first time in our lives the Radicals have 
 some chance of success." 
 
 "Everything depends upon their candidate and their- 
 organisation," said Mr. Wirham confidently. "Whalt are 
 they like ? " 
 
 " They have next to no organisation, and so far as I can 
 hear no money at all. We are badly off, and they are worse, ^ 
 but they will work night and day to carry their man. They 
 are hungry and lean. Your fat, good Conservative will vote, 
 but will do nothing else — sometimes is too lazy even to do that." 
 
 "Have none of these countrj- houses been let to new 
 people ? " said Mr. Wirham. 
 
 . " Yes,'' replied the Duke, " but it would be better for us 
 if they had not been." 
 
 " How is that ? If the house is tenanted even by a new- 
 comer, money is going, men are employed, and a new element 
 of stability is introduced into the county." 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," interrupted the secretary. 
 " The new-comer is usually a vulgar, purse-proud creature, 
 whose first idea is to get the utmost value for his money. 
 He is a merciless game preserver, and will hear nothing of 
 the little usages and privileges which make rural life go easy, 
 and he treats the rustic, when he has to deal with him, with 
 a supercilious hauteur which is bitterly resented. I would 
 rather a country house were vacant, than that it should 
 belong to a City man who attempts to run his establishlB€j;tt 
 oh the principles of the counting-house." 1 
 
 " Well, that may be so ; but are any of them likely to- 
 help on one side or the other ? " asked Mr. Wirham.- ;. :■ ' 
 ■ "One or two of them," said the secretary, ".mayielJD us, 
 but as a rule they are too selfish and too little interested in 
 the affairs of the county and of their country to bestir them- 
 selves in politics. Stay, there is one exception, and that is 
 a very important one ,■ it is Mr. Faulmann, who last year 
 bought Netherton Priory, on the other side of Rigby." 
 
 "WeU, what of him?" 
 
20 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " He is immensely rich, and for some reason or other 
 pretends ti) be a fanatical partisan of the Radicals ; in 
 fact, I believe I am correct in saying that but for his 
 supjxirt we should not have had a Radical candidate in 
 Blankshire. He is a German Jew, a banker of the City, 
 and chemical manufacturer of (jarlam. I think you 
 ■will find that he will be the Chairman of the Radical 
 Committee." 
 
 " Then how could you tell me that the Radicals had no 
 funds?" asked ilr. Wirham sharply. 
 
 "I referred to the organisation," replied the secretary. 
 " Mr. Faulmann has 
 ]ilenty, but if he 
 is to finance this 
 election you may 
 depend upon it it 
 will ' be run on the 
 cheap, t^omeofthe 
 contractors who 
 have been refitting 
 Xetherton Priory 
 according to his 
 ideas declare that 
 it is easier to get 
 blood iiut of a stune 
 than to get Mi'. Faul- 
 mann to meet his 
 bilU."' 
 
 " The situation," 
 said Mr. Wirham, 
 " reduces itself then 
 t^i this. Every one 
 is hard up: the other 
 side, at least, as much 
 as we. They have 
 one ally which we 
 have not — hunger ; 
 for the depressi(jn 
 which de]"!opvdates 
 our ranks fills theirs. 
 The situation is 
 serious, but by no 
 means desperate. 
 Here at Eastland we 
 are on firm ground. 
 This is the key of 
 the jjosition ; but 
 we must make 
 overtures to Lord 
 Bladud to secure 
 his support at the otlie 
 
 The Duke's face fe" 
 that is indispensable V Li -rd Bladud is in 
 such evil odour in the cuinty that I think 
 we should be stronger witliout liini and his 
 support." 
 
 " There is no room for sentiment in politics," 
 said Mr. Wirhara, sententiously. " Bladud may 
 be somewhat lacking in the Christian graces, but he 
 owns thirty thousand acres of land, he has j^lenty of 
 money, and we cannot afford to make a gift of his 
 influence to the Radicals. Between Eastland Castle 
 and Sloane Hall we shall be able to rope them in, never 
 fear." 
 
 The Duke glanced at the secretary. " I think, Mr. 
 Wirham," said that gentleman, " you had better leave the 
 questi'jn of Lord Bladud over for the present, until you have 
 had more opportunity of learning the feeling in the county 
 concerning him." 
 
 eiK 
 "D.i 
 
 if the Com 1 1 V." 
 vou tliink that 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," said that gentleman. "It will 
 never do to be too squeamish. Elections are not won with 
 rosewater, and if you refuse to co-operate with any one 
 except saints you will infaUibly land at the bottom of the 
 jjoU. Remember the Radicals have no such scruples, other- 
 wise they would hardly have Mr. Faulmann as chairman of. 
 their committee. But adjourning that question ; what about 
 the Primrose League ? " 
 
 " Her Grace," said the local secretary, " is at the head of 
 the Order in Blankshire ; but it has been run more from 
 the point of view of sociability and charity than from 
 
 partisanship." 
 
 Mr. Wirham 
 shook his head. 
 "Magnificent, no 
 doubt," said he, 
 "but not war. 
 These fine senti- 
 ments, which do her 
 Grace much honour, 
 will hardly contri- 
 bute to the success 
 of Lord Bulstrode." 
 The Duke was 
 nettled by this re- 
 flection upon his 
 wife, but looked out 
 of the window and 
 said nothing. 
 
 " You see," said 
 the Conservative 
 secretary, " Blank- 
 shire has never been 
 considered to be a 
 contested county, 
 nor was there the 
 need for subordina- 
 ting everything to 
 ]iolitical considera- 
 tions which there 
 is in less happily- 
 placed constitu- 
 encies." 
 
 " Of course," said 
 Mr. Wirham, " I un- 
 derstand. The ex- 
 planation is obvious, 
 but the remedy is 
 much more difficult. 
 I suppose we can 
 depend vipon the 
 clergy?" 
 
 "Yes," said the 
 
 local secretary, " we 
 
 can get them into 
 
 line by working the 
 
 Welsh Church 
 
 Oracle, otherwise 
 
 they are not very keen partisans. But I am afraid that the 
 
 Radicals, as far as I can make out, intend to say very little 
 
 about the Welsh Church, and nothing about Home Rule." 
 
 " Oh, Home' Rule does not count," said Mr. Wirham 
 airily ; " of course they will say nothing about Home Rule — 
 that is our card, not theirs. But our first duty is to rally 
 the Church to the defence of the Constitution. The first 
 step in the campaign is to issue a special appeal to the 
 clergy, urging them to form committees in their parishes to 
 assist in resisting the attempt to destroy the Welsh Church. 
 Each of these committees will serve as a local electoral 
 
 THE DUKE AND THE ELECTION AGENT. 
 
An Episode in Knickerbockers. 
 
 21 
 
 centre for Lord Bulstrode's return. By-the-bye," said 
 Mr. Wirham, carelessly, " if they are not going to fight on 
 Home Rule, and are going to say nothing about the Welsh 
 Church, what do they mean to fight on ? " 
 
 " The land for the people, I tliik," said the Duke with a 
 ■ somewhat sardonic smile. " At least, that is the idea of the 
 London man whom they have brought down. I don't 
 think he will find much response in Blankshire, where land 
 can be had for the asking by any one who will undertake to 
 pay rates and taxes." 
 
 " What about allotments ? " 
 
 " On my estates," said the Duke, " every one has had an 
 allotment who cared to ask for one, but as you know, 
 Blankshire clay is not very suitable for allotment purposes." 
 
 " Oh, the allotment cry," said Mr. Wirham, " counts for 
 very little in the county where people know what land is. 
 Its great pull is in towns. You will find more electors keen 
 about allotments in Rigby and Coleford than in the rural 
 districts." 
 
 "Now," said the Dake, "I think we have given you all 
 the information at our disposal." 
 
 '* What about the register? " asked Mr. Wirham. 
 
 " It is in excellent condition," said the secretary. " His 
 Grace has seen to that. If you will come with me to Rigby, 
 we will go to the office .and begin operations at once." 
 
 Thereupon the London agent and the local secretary 
 bowed themselves out and drove off to Rigby. As soon as 
 they reached the office, Mr. Wirham said — 
 
 " Now the first thing to be done is " 
 
 " Hold meetings," suggested. Mr. Holdem. 
 
 "Sir," said Mr. Wirham, "that is the. last thing to be 
 done. The first thing to be' done is to prepare the ground. 
 Get envelopes addressed to every clergyman' and curate in 
 the county. We can do ' nothing . without the -Ghurch. 
 Remember it is worth more to time the pulpit than to rouse 
 the platform. The first thing to be, done on our side is to 
 rope in the parson. We must prepare a circular' and- enclose 
 with it the ammunition issued.'by them in defence ofths 
 Welsh Church. I think yisu will find that is a stinger," said 
 he, throwing a double-leaded, black-lettered- leaflet, which 
 Mr. Holdem took up and scrutinised with some interest. ' 
 
 "Pretty stiff," said he. " 'Blasphemy,' 'sacrilege," plunder.' 
 Don't you think it is pitching it- rather high, for after all-it 
 only affects a beggarly quarter of a million a year ? " • { 
 
 "Sir," said Mr. Wirham, "you amaze me. Read what 
 his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury has said. .' You will 
 find it quoted at the end of. the leaflet, You see- in -the 
 Archbishop's opinion this is -the greatest crisis which -has 
 e-yer confronted the Church since its ■ founding in these 
 islands." . . 
 
 Mr. Holdem gave an incredulous whistle. 
 
 " It is all very well for you. to whistle," said Mr. -Wirham 
 testily, " but I defy any clergyman to whistle in that fashion. 
 Why, it would be flat mutiny, in face of the Archbishop's 
 opinion, for any mere parish priest to hold aloof from the 
 sacred cause. But I must be going." 
 
 " Where are you going ? " said Mr. Holdem. 
 
 " Ha— hum," said Mr. Wirham, hesitating, " I have just 
 time to catch the train; I am going to dine with Lord 
 Bladud at Sloane Hall." 
 
 " What ! " cried Mr. Holdem, " was it not understood ? " 
 
 "I don't know what his Grace understood," said Mr. 
 Wirham airily. " What I have to do is to win this election. 
 That is my business ; his Grace can do as he pleases." 
 Whereupon Mr. Wirham departed. 
 
 " Hum," thought Mr. Holdem, " these London men are 
 pretty smart, but they \;ill overreach themselveaj I reckon, if 
 they consider that they will run this election without con- 
 sidering his Grace's opinions." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN EPISODE IN" KNIOKEBBOOKEES. 
 
 I ® ADY yENID'S fears that some inquiry might be made 
 J^ about the accident on the road to Eastland were 
 unfounded. The commotion occasioned by the coming 
 contest caused her arrival to be overlooked. As she had 
 always come and gone in a very independent manner, it 
 occasioned no remark when, early on the following day, she 
 announced casually at breakfast that she was going to ride 
 into Rigby to get a new riding-skirt. On arriving at Rigby, 
 Lady MniA left her bicycle to be repaired, and went off to a 
 ladies' tailor to be measured for a cycling suit. "I have 
 risked my life often enough," she said to herself, " with 
 these horrid petticoats. On- a cycle, at least, they are not 
 compulsory." By the time she had been measured and had 
 strolled round the town her machine had been repaired. 
 As she cycled- down the High Street she passed the "Radical 
 Arms," and, gazing up, caught the eye of Mr. Wilkes who 
 was looking down into the street from one of the windows. 
 He started, but she preserved her composure, and was soon 
 
 . lost to sight. 
 
 For the next fe-w days jEnid found abundant occupation 
 in teaching Lady Muriel to ride the bicycle. The castle was 
 full of guests'. The great time was coming on when the 
 jDheasants were to be massacred, and the talk at meals and 
 
 ■ afterwards almost. exclusively, turned upon sport. To Lady 
 ^Euid, who had never killed anything in her life, the 
 monotony of the ceaseless talk of shooting and hunting 
 was rather wearying,-; and she' was delighted when one 
 day. tire post brought her a; letter from an old Australia-n 
 
 ;■ acquaintance 'who had come over to this country for the 
 purpose of devoting herself to the profession of nursing. 
 
 The- letter, 'which had -been forwarded from Six Elms 
 Castle, ran as follows :— 
 
 Dear .Lady Mmi,-^! haven't the ghost of an idea where 
 
 ■you are at presenti but- if you are within a hundred miles of 
 
 Liverpool Street 1 beseech you of your charity to come and 
 
 cheer the' eyes of your devoted but desolate friend. I am 
 
 • here, like Robinson Crusoe, on a desulate island in the most 
 . out-of-the-way place you can imagine. If ever there was -a 
 
 God-forsaken place in tins world it is Garlam, where I am in 
 sole charge of an iinprbvised hospital. There is plenty to d% 
 for .typhoid, fever -is , epidemic, and I have been sent down to 
 relieve , a nurse who . is invalided. It is a manufiictnring 
 
 ' village, which has been created by the lead works — and such a 
 village ! - If ever you are inclined to be discontented with your 
 
 •' lot, -come and see how these people live. I have a spare room 
 
 ; in the hospital, and could put you up in the matron's quarters. 
 
 I So,id6 come, if you can find time. I am simply languishing for 
 
 • some one to talk to. Do come — Yours affectionately, Ethel. 
 
 P.S. — I forgot to tell you that the only civilised person to 
 whom I can t"lk is the doctor, and he is away just now and 
 has sent the oddest locum tenens in the world, a Dr. Glogoul.or 
 some such name. He is an American, and the most tiresome 
 person you ever saw. I believe he is not a Chrisfan a bit, 
 and his sentiments are worse than those of a cannibal. 
 
 The moment Lady .<Enid read the letter she determined to 
 go, and was the more disposed to do so for her new cycling 
 suit had just arrived from the Rigby tailor, and she was 
 burning to wear it. At the same time she was rather in awe 
 of the Duke, and feared to make her first appearance in the 
 sacred precincts of Eastland Castle. 
 
 " Has any one any idea," she asked at lunch, " where 
 Garlam is ? Is it far from here ? " 
 
 " Garlam ! " said Lady Muriel. " I have heard the name, 
 but I do not exactly know where it is. After lunch we will 
 ask the agent." 
 
 " Wherever it is,'' said Lady jEnid, coolly, " I am going to 
 cycle there if it takes me a week. I am going to start to- 
 
22 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 morrow morning first thing, before any of you are up, and 
 then you see, Muriel," she added almost timidly, " I shall be 
 able to air my knickerbockers, and get accustomed to them 
 before any one in the castle sees them." 
 
 After lunch they found the agent, who told them that 
 Garlam lay at a distance of about sixty miles from the 
 castle. It was just on the other side of Lord Bladud's place 
 at Sloane Hall. 
 
 "Gould you pick out the road for me on my cyclists' 
 map?" said Lady .lEnid, producing her well-thumbed copy 
 of the road-map of Blankshire. 
 
 "Certainly," said the agent; "but you are surqly not 
 thinking of going ? " 
 
 " I am going there to-morrow," said Lady ^nid. 
 
 " Perhaps you have some friend in the neighbourhood ? " 
 
 " Why," said the girl, " surely it is not such an out-of-the- 
 ■way place as your remark would imply ? " 
 
 " Well," said the agent, " it is not a place a young lady 
 can go to very well by herself. It is a miserably dirty 
 place, with a couple of gin-shops, half-a-dozen beerhouses, 
 and not a decent hotel in the place. There is certainly no 
 house in which you could find accommodation. The dis- 
 tance is too far for you to come back in the same day. It 
 measures almost seventy miles on the map." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Muriel, as they left the office, " you 
 will not go, then ? " 
 
 ■ " Won't I, though. There is nothing so nice as a spice of 
 adventure. Besides, I am going to stay with my dear 
 Ethel." 
 
 " You did not tell me that," said Muriel. 
 
 " Read her letter then," said jSlnid, handing it to her. 
 
 After Muriel had. read it she asked,' " But are you not 
 afraid of Dr. Glogoul '? " 
 
 " Not in the least," was the airy reply. " I have seen 
 him before. I met him when I was staying at the Sterlings. 
 He is not a favourite of mine ; but afraid of him-^no ! 
 Muriel, did- you ever know what it was to be afraid of a 
 man ? I never did, and I don't intend to ! " said the youug 
 girl, in all the conscious might of a gymiiast of nineteen. 
 
 " Well," said Muriel, " if you mean to go, I suppose you 
 will go. All the same, I do not like it. There was somfe- 
 thing in the tone of the agent which seemed to imply more 
 than he expressed." 
 
 " So much the better ! " said ^nid recklessly; " You do 
 not know what a charm there is in cycling by yourself through 
 an unknown country. ITou feel like one of the knights of 
 the Bound Table pricking forth in quest of adTentures. In 
 these prosaic times, when you never ride unless you are 
 followed by a groom, and for the most part drive in 
 broughams or ride in railway carriages, we have lost the 
 whole charm of romance of the oldeii days. But it's all 
 coming back with the cycle." 
 
 Muriel put her arm round jEnid's neck, and kissed her. 
 "For you, perhaps, Niddie, but for me life has no such 
 fascinations of adventurous romance." 
 
 " Yoii poor thing ! " said ^Enid sympathetically. 
 
 Lady jEnid spent an hour that afternoon overhauling her 
 cycle. After seeing that all was in order and ready for 
 the morning, she left orders that it was to be brought to 
 the hall door at six o'clock. She consulted the barometer, 
 and then tripped over to the gamekeeper's lodge to hear 
 from the chief authority how he thought the wind was 
 likely to blow on the morrow. She was a great friend of 
 the gamekeeper, not so much for what he killed as for what 
 he kept alive. The cottage was a perfect menagerie of pets, 
 among whom Lady JSnid was very much at home, and with 
 the gamekeeper she bad struck up an intimate acquaintance. 
 
 " And so you are going to Garlam ? " said the keeper. " It 
 
 is a' queer place for a young lady like you to be going to 
 all alone. They do say that the devil is not so black as 
 he is painted. The Garlam people be rough, but maybe 
 they would not do you any harm." 
 
 " Why, what harm could they do me? " 
 
 " Heave half a brick at you, put a stick between the spokes, 
 or cut your tyre, or anything else that might come into their 
 savage minds. It is an outlandish place, is Garlam, with 
 never a soul to look after any one." 
 
 " Oh, yes there is ! " said Lady .Slnid. " I am going to 
 see the nurse at the hospital.' She looks after the sick folk, 
 anyhow." 
 
 " Hospital ! " said the keeper ; " that's new. Not so long 
 ago — not two years ago — when our Dick was helping in Lord 
 Bladud's preserves, they had no more a hospital than they 
 had a church, or schoolhouse, or anything. Bad as they are, 
 they are better than the folk at Sloane Hall. There is the 
 civilised savage, and there is the rough savage, and the 
 civilised savage is the savager of the two. There be many 
 hell-holes in this Christian land, but saving your pardon, 
 m' Lady, the helliest hole of the lot is Sloane Hall." 
 
 He was aa old man, the keeper, and privileged withal. 
 
 Lady iBnid had the vaguest idea of what the keeper 
 meant by his warning about Lord Bladud. Life had gone 
 easily with her. Although she had had the run of all the 
 newspapers, and had been brought up in the free and easy 
 atmosphere of Australian life, all she had read or heard of 
 the dark and lurid fringe of human life had left no definite 
 impression upon her mind. Therein she differed very little 
 from the majority of girls at her age. That there is evil, and 
 plenty of it, misery and crime, they know, but it is a thing 
 apart, nor . do they ever dream that the sharp and rugged 
 edge of circumstance can ever tear its way into their lives. 
 The passions, and all the havoc they work with human 
 lives, are to them a kind of stage-play which they witness 
 from their cushioned stalls, causing them a passing thrill, 
 but they regard them as apart from their own existence. It 
 was, therefore, without alarm or anything beyond a certain 
 heightened sense of enjoyment, that Lady ^nid, on being 
 called at five o'clock the next morning, arrayed herself in her 
 new costume and surveyed herself in the glass. It was a 
 new sensation for her. At first she hardly realised that 
 the saucy, piquant young woman in the coat and knicker- 
 bockers looking at her from the glass was Lady Mnii 
 Belsover, her very self. She felt a little strange, and topk 
 a turn or two in the room just to try what her clothes felt 
 like. Then she looked again in the glass, and a sense of the 
 delightful but innocent impropriety of it all caused her to 
 flush just a little. "After all," she thought, "I do look 
 well in it, and it will be twice as easy to cycle in, and not 
 nearly as dangerous." 
 
 But in order not to scandalise the servants at the castle, 
 and to prevent any gossip after her departure, she carefully 
 robed her kniokerbockered limbs in a convenient skirt and 
 
 ent down to breakfast. Her travelling kit did not weigh 
 more than fifteen pounds. It was speedily fastened to the 
 handle-bar, and shortly after six she was dashing do'wn- the 
 avenue to the park gates. 
 
 The sun had not yet risen, and there was a slight frost 
 in the air, which made active exercise all the more delightful. 
 She could see the deer already browsing in the glades, ^and 
 now and then a rabbit popped out of the bracken and ran 
 across the road in front of her. Nature was profoundly 
 silent. The solemn silence which the air holds at sunset 
 difi'ers from the silence of early morning, not in its intensity, 
 but in its solemnity. There is a briskness about the early 
 morning air and a sense of the vigour of life to come which 
 is lacking at eventide. Lady .^nid never slowed up imtil 
 
An Episode in Knickerbockers. 
 
 23 
 
 out on the turnpike road. 
 
 She bicycled on for a mile or two, and then, looking care- 
 fully behind and before, she dismounted, unbuttoned her 
 skirt, strapped it on the handle-bar, and remounted, not 
 without a sense of guilty shame, wmoh was transmuted into 
 a sense of devout thankfulness that there was no one near 
 to see her. It was a delightful sensation, feeling that she 
 need not trouble herself about her skirts. The iirst hill 
 which she glided down, with her feet up and no fear 
 of her petticoats catching in the rapidly revolving pedals, 
 was a delightful experience which she never forgot. As she 
 neared Eigby, she began to wonder whether or not she 
 should put on her skirt in passing through the town, and 
 whether she might be recognise i. Reflecting, however, that 
 it was barely seven o'clock, and that there would not be 
 many people about, she rode on without stopping. Soon 
 she found herself in the middle of the High Street. 
 
 There were more people about than she bargained for. 
 Workmen were going to breakfast, and carts laden with 
 agricultural produce were coming into the town, and there 
 were aU the usual signs of awakening life. It was too late 
 to stop now, so Lady ^nid, looking as unconcerned as 
 possible, passed the carts and the groups of workmen down 
 the eastern road. The men stopped and looked at her, 
 interchanging remarks among themselves, but that was all. 
 It was not until she was beginning to congratulate herself 
 upon having got tbrough the town, that a hobbledehoy, 
 coming out of a cottage, set eyes upon her. 
 
 For a moment he stared with open eyes and mouth, 
 then- he ci'ied, " Oh my, look ! Come here, Jim ! " . There- 
 upon Jim, apparently his brother, emerged from the cottage 
 with his mouth full of bi-ead. "Look there — look there, 
 there's a girl with breeches on ! Hi ! " and thereupon the 
 young lout, anxious to have a nearer view of this unwonted 
 phenomenon, started clattering down the street after her. 
 Lady jEnid flushed hot to the tips of her ears, and bending 
 forward, rode her cycle speedily out of earshot of the 
 objectionable young ruffian. He had done her no harm, but 
 his rude exclamation of startled wonder and the clattering 
 of his hobnailed boots on the road behind her made her 
 somewhat nervous. When she reached Coleford, the next 
 town through which she passed, she dismounted before 
 reaching the suburbs and donned her skirt. She felt it was 
 a weak compromise, but the memory of the lout scampering 
 after her was too vividly impressed upon her mind for her to 
 risk a similar experience. 
 
 By degrees the influence of the morning air, the exhilara- 
 tion of rapid movement, and the intoxication of physical 
 health, obliterated the painful reminiscence, and she delighted 
 in the new sense of liberty and of power. Cycling, which is 
 a convenience for a man, is a necessity of life for a woman 
 — of life, that is to say, real life, for off their cycles many 
 girls are never conscious of a moment's independent exist- 
 ence. They are the bond-slaves of Mrs. Grundy, and 
 generally held in by some other will than their own, whether 
 it is that of an individual parent or guardian, or the impal- 
 pable, undefinable opinion of the general community. The 
 cycle is fatail to the chaperone, and the girl-cyclist who 
 launches out on her wheel is as free as any wandering 
 knight of olden time, to go where she pleases and meet 
 what adventures seem good in her own eyes. For the most 
 part the adventures are of the mildest, but there is sufficient 
 possibility of the disagreeable to give a chaiTQ to even the 
 most commonplace excursion. 
 
 Of this Lady MniA was soon to have a rather unpleasant 
 experience. She lunched at a roadside village which could 
 boast of an inn, a relic of the coaching days, and therefore 
 not lacking in accommodation for cyclists. After lunch, 
 
 when she came to pay her bill, she wanted a £5 note 
 changed. The waiter said that it would be necessary for 
 him to go to the bank, which was some little distance off, 
 in order to get change. She said she would wait at the 
 corner of the street. She had lunched in her knickerbockers, 
 and thinking nothing of the village public, she had not 
 resumed her skirt after her meal. As she stood at the 
 street corner waiting for the return of the waiter, her 
 costume attracted the attention flrst of one and then another 
 of the rustics. They had just finished dinner, and were 
 about to return to work. Presently, almost before she knew 
 how it happened, she was surrounded by a crowd of from 
 twenty to thirty men and women, who interchanged 
 remarks at the top of their voices which were the reverse 
 of complimentary^ The bucolic mind is essentially 
 conservative, especially in the matter of dress, and the 
 viragoes of the village were quite savage with the " girl in 
 breeches." 
 
 " It's a scandal, it is," said one. " A houtrage, I calls it," 
 said another ; " it oughtn't to be allowed." 
 
 " That it oughtn't," chimed in another. " Where's the 
 police ? I would give her in charge if he was only here ; but 
 he never is where he is wanted." 
 
 All the while Lady ^nid stood as composedly as possible, 
 waiting for that waiter. Would he never come ? Attracted 
 by the clatter of women's tongues, and seeing a crowd 
 which always seems to indicate that there is something worth 
 looking at, people came running up from all parts of tEe 
 village. The women were meanwhile beginning to work 
 themselves up to a state capable of physical violence. 
 
 " What are we comin' to ? " asked one, " when young 
 hussies can go about in breeches like this ? " 
 
 " What right has she got to breeches ? " said another 
 matron, wiping her hands upon her apron. 
 
 " Tak' 'em oflf her," shouted a mischievous urchin on the 
 other side of the crowd. 
 
 " So I will," shouted the woman, who began to approach 
 Lady ^nid with the intention of carrying out her threat. 
 There was no knowing to what length the virago might 
 have gone. Lady iEnid was in despair. Just at this moment 
 the waiter came hurrying up with the change. The little 
 crowd shrank back in silence, and before it closed again Lady 
 ^nid had- mounted her bicycle and was riding down the 
 street vidth an outward dignity which sadly belied her real 
 feelings. 
 
 " What savages ! " she thought ; " what -would have 
 happened if that waiter had not come just when he did ? 
 How horrible ! " For the first time in her life a sense of the 
 grimmer realities of existence dawned upon her mind. For 
 a moment she was cowed and miserable. Then there came 
 to her a thought which always comes to those who suffer in 
 breaking, by however short a road, through the palseocristic 
 sea of use and wont. She felt that, however horrid it might 
 be, still it was worth while to suffer that others who came 
 after might enjoy a larger liberty and be free from insult and 
 threatened outrage. So with a pardonable feeling of the pride 
 of the martyr, she continued her journey through the pleasant 
 wooded country of Blankshire. 
 
 The birds were singing gaily in the sunshine. The 
 early frosts had coloured the copses. The cattle looked 
 lazily up from their pasture as she went by. Every 
 now and then she came upon fields overgrown with thistles, 
 hedges untrimmed, and ditches uncleaned, and all the out- 
 ward and visible signs of a derelict farm. Twice on her 
 journey she passed country houses shut up, with the grass 
 growing in the carriage drives, no smoke issuing from the 
 chimneys, the windows closely shuttered, and everywhere 
 a look of blank desolation. 
 
 Girl though she was, she had still some knowledge of the 
 
24 
 
 k t^ 
 
 ' TAk' 'em off HEB ! " SHOUTED A MISCHIEVOUS URCHIN. 
 
The Modern Town of Garlam. 
 
 25 
 
 carping cares which accompany the decadence of the 
 property of the household.. Six Elms Castle had always 
 kept a brave show to the outside, but at what a .cost of 
 heart-breaking economy and starving of the household 
 within Lady iEnid knew only t^ well. "How much 
 pleasanter," she thought, "to cycle through the country 
 than to own it. I have all the fun of it and none of the 
 nuisance. Now at Six Elms we have pretty nearly all the 
 nuisance and none of the fun. I wonder which is the road 
 to G-arlam ?— there is the sign-post in the distance." 
 
 With that she quickened her speed. The sign-post, that 
 indispensable fluger-post of civihsation, pointed in two direc- 
 tions—one was to Sloane Hall, and the other to Grarlani. She 
 took the Garlam road. It was still early in the afternoon, and 
 as far as she could make out she was about ten miles from 
 ', her destination. From the summit of a hill, over which the 
 road ran, she could look -down upon the sea, which stretched 
 away as far as the eye could see to the eastern hisrizon. The 
 road" led directly towards a hazy, smoky blot in the landscape, 
 through which one tall chimney towered aloft. • " So that is 
 Garlam," she thought; "I shall be there before sunset;" 
 But remembering what she ■ had heaM of. the inhabitants, 
 she carefully arrayed herself in her .skirt before venturing 
 to ride through the long, narrow, dirty,' miiddy strisets which 
 she was rapidly approaching. ■ 
 
 " How odd it is," said ^Enid, as she was buttoping on hsr 
 skirt ; "I really have found a new test' of civilisation. Place 3 
 through which* you can ride withoiit being insulted ar3 
 civilised, and those where I -have, to wear my skirt afs 
 barbarous.. . At least, I think so, if civility has anything to 
 do with civihsation." ' ' . . 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 .THE.MODEBN.TOWN, OF GARLAM.. 
 
 'HE town of Garlam was one of those products of ths 
 nineteenth century of which civilisation' has reason 
 to be ashamed. ' Not that Civilisation 'had anything 
 to do with Garlam. It- was au' excrescence rather 
 than an outgrowth of civilisation. ■ When the Patent'White 
 Lead Company, Limited, of which Mr. Faulmaiin was tho 
 chief shareholder and managing' director, cast about'for a 
 locality in ■ which • it could manufacture the commodity 
 which gave .the title to the flrffi, M.r. Paulmann selected tho 
 little fishing village of Garlain.'. • There was' a sinall inlet 
 which, with a little diredging, could .be-cdnvertedinto a dock- 
 basin, where ships' could load ,arid discharge at all times of 
 the tide. . There was nO 'local authority in. the place, a fact 
 which the observant- Mr. Faulmann diily noted. There 
 were no sahds or rocks upon the- sea coast, only a long 
 stretch of mud, over which the. tide lazily spread itself twice 
 a day, and then subsided. 
 
 The nearest town was ten miles distant. All the surrounding 
 
 property belonged to the Earl of Bladud, who was perfectly 
 
 willing to part .with as much ground as the company wanted 
 
 in return .for cash down. The capital of the company was 
 
 about £100,000, but its business, was extremely profitable. 
 
 Mr. Faulmann, during his continental travels, had succeeded 
 
 by some nieans or . other,, into which, it .is. better not to look 
 
 too miriuteiy, ' in inducing the Turkish Government to 
 
 entrust him with a monopoly for the supply of white lead 
 
 throughout the Ottoman Empire. Of this monopoly or 
 
 concession Mr. Faulmann and the men of straw who were 
 
 associated with him on the Board made the most. They 
 
 ' only did business with Turkey, and exported the whole of 
 
 the output of Garlam to various ports in the East. 
 
 ' The company was one of the most flourishing in the 
 
 ' business. For the last five years— that is to say, since the 
 
 'monopoly was g. -an ted— the Patent "White Lead Company 
 
 had paid a dividend of twenty per cent, over and above the 
 handsome allowance which they made to the managing 
 
 ■ director. The works were conveniently situated for ' the 
 export trade. That was the only thing for which Mr. Paul- 
 mann cared. "When he built his works it never occurred 
 to him to inquire about the nature of the Subsoil, which 
 
 ■ was marshy clay, or as to the water supply, 'which was 
 confined to a brackish and sluggish stream that emptied 
 
 ' itself -into the inlet by the side of which the works stood. 
 
 ■ The works were built by contract, and the contractor who 
 put them up brought his men down from London, 
 
 - bivouacked them in huts in the neighbourhood until the 
 job was finished, and then carted them a-v^ay again. 
 
 'When Mr. Faulmann opened the works he was con- 
 fronted with the difficulty of finding accommodation for 
 
 ■ the men — labourers for the most part, who were sent down 
 by 'the labour registries to whom he had duly reported his 
 want of labour. There were only half a dozen cottages in the 
 original hamlet, and' these, althorigh they took in lodgers to 
 
 .' the utmost of their capacity. Were unable to provide adequate 
 
 ■ shelter for Mr. Jaulmann's-hands. ' Some rumour of this state 
 ' of things having reached Eigby, Brassy ;• the jerry-builder> 
 
 - had -'an' -interview with Mr. Faulmann, and before 'the week 
 
 ■ 'w&B out foundations were being put in fori a row'of. jerry- 
 . built houses in the immediate ' vicinity of' the works. The 
 , foimdations were little ' more ■ than a few. courses of -brick 
 
 below the level of the grbund. . There was no .pretence at 
 
 ' draining the' houses^ which 'we:e reared in'this marshyclay. 
 
 They stood 'back to back, without yards or any, necessary 
 
 accommodation. The ashes' and refuse were thrown.'. into 
 
 'middens on the opposite side 'of the road. Mr. -Brassy 
 
 built at the corner of\the first' street; a public-house, for 
 
 which he secured a full lideiise. ' Hedid'-not, howe'ver, stop 
 
 : there, but placed . it '• in charge of his hephew,-" -who ^'had 
 
 ' served his time as barinan 'and tapster at the " Red Dragon,"' 
 
 :at Eigby.' ■ - ■■ ■ ' ■ " ... '" '.■... 
 
 ' Such was the beginning of the town of Garlam. . By-and- 
 
 ■ by,as the business flourished 'and more and more' workmen 
 . battle' to the town, other streets were biiilt in .'a siriiilar 
 
 fashion. ' The Rural Sanitary 'Authority, hoivever; had its 
 . a'ttentibn directed to several leases of enteric fever'. 'They 
 
 ■ sent down their inspector, and insisted that Some elementary 
 
 ■ prfeoautions should be taken to provide the people' of: Garlam 
 with the first essentials of sanitary existence. 'Mr. Faulmann 
 never entered the village which- had ' grown up found, his 
 works. It was none of his business, he sajd;' pri-rate enter- 
 prise must supply houses; It was enoiigh for him to.inanu- 
 facture white lead. He paid good wages, none better; and 
 if the working man was worth' his -salt; he would see that 
 he was properly lodged and had all necessary conveniences. 
 "When the inspector pointed out to him the need" for an 
 improved water supply, Mr. 'Faulmann' said he entirely 
 agreed, but it was none of his business. He had not 
 a house in the place, and all his. attention was "devoted 
 
 ; to the management of the ' works;. He' was not going to 
 convert free and independent workmen into servants and 
 
 -vassals by-troubling.-himself .'with what they did with their 
 wages when they left his works. He had no more to do 
 with them than 'they with him after work hours. 
 
 Now most of the '.'property belonged- to' Mr. .Brassy, who 
 had put it up, and^was charging his wretched tenants' more 
 than would have beeii a fair rent for good sanitary property 
 with air the necessary appliances for health. Mr. Brassy 
 
 .'expressed his .willingness to do > anything,' and in 'earnest 
 thereof sank cesspools at intervals throughout his property 
 in which the sewage of the neighbouring houses could 
 accumulate. He also sank a well in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of the stream from which they had hitherto drawn 
 their supply of water. For this he charged a halfpenny a 
 
26 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 pail, for water was too precious a commodity to be had 
 without payment. Besides, the less water there was, and 
 the more one had to pay for it, the greater was the pro- 
 bability that the inhabitants would find their way to the 
 bar of the " Green Man." 
 
 The workmen were as a rule Welsh and Irish, and were 
 ■divided into cliques mutually antipathetic, neither of whom 
 would dream of cordially co-operating with one another 
 for the attainment of the greatest possible good for the 
 town. There was no resident vicar or any place of worship. 
 Occasionally a Catholic priest came to the village to see that 
 the children were baptised ; but for his ministrations there 
 was little call. In this way there had gradually grown up a 
 township of 5,000 or 6,000 inhabitants, utterly destitute of 
 all means of grace, excepting an iron mission-room, which 
 had been opened by the benevolent exertions of the Countess 
 of Bladud, who on one occasion after her separation from her 
 husband had been called to Garlam to see an old lady's-maid 
 "who was dying there, and had been so penetrated with a 
 sense of the squalid misery of the place, that she had 
 opened a mission-hall, which three Sundays out of four 
 had no service. On the fourth Sunday an occasional local 
 preacher or a curate from a neighbouring parish would read 
 the lessons and deliver a discourse, which was listened to by 
 a congregation small but by no means select. The adult 
 male population spent its time in dog-fighting, poaching, 
 and pigeon-flying, and made the "Green Man" their head- 
 <}uarters for the transaction of such business as was, of a 
 general and public character. There was one old midwife 
 ill the town who presided over the arrival of such infants as 
 were so unfortunate as to be born into Garlam. A doctor 
 came once a week to a dispensary, where those who were 
 ailing had their wants attended to. 
 
 The cesspools were occasionally emptied, but for the 
 most part remained reeking with their poisonous filth in the 
 midst of the community. The death-rate was high, there 
 was no bath or washhouse in the whole village, neither was 
 there a library, reading-room, or hospital. Meanwhile the 
 Patent White Lead Company divided its twenty per cent., 
 and Mr. Faulmann prided himself on possessing that com- 
 mercial enterprise which is the glory of this free country. 
 Conscience, Mr. Faulmann had none ; but a rudiment of a 
 •conscience might possibly be discerned in the uneasiness 
 with which he contemplated the arrival of Her Majesty's 
 factory inspector. The appliances for making white lead 
 were of the best ; of that he had no fear. He paid to have 
 good machinery, and good machinery he had. The fact that 
 haunted him was the way in which the inspector would 
 speak of his negligence in not supplying the requisites of 
 health to his employes. This, however, was not a statutory 
 offence. He took care to keep himself strictly within the 
 letter of the law, and if a large proportion of the hands 
 suffered from lead-poisoning, that was their look-out, not his. 
 If they chose to accept the work which he offered, they 
 ought not to comp'ain. The consequence was that if the 
 Patent White Lead Company paid higher dividends than 
 any other white lead company, it also had the worst array of 
 miserable and wretched workpeople. 
 
 All this, however, was incidental to the manufacture of 
 white lead. If the world needed white lead, a certain 
 number of workmen must be poisoned in its production. 
 
 One day, Mr. Faulmann's attention was called very 
 sharply by the inspector to his failure to supply what he 
 had frequently pointed out was necessary to prevent a 
 wholesale excess of mortality. 
 
 " Why," said Mr. Faulmann, somewhat impatiently, " you 
 forget that the.se things cost money." 
 
 " Of course they cost money," said the inspector ; " but if 
 you do not supply them they will cost men." 
 
 Faulmann" shrugged his shoulders. " If the people do not 
 like their work, that is their look out, not mine." Beyond 
 that the inspector could get nothing out of him. He reported 
 adversely upon the works, roundly condemned the lack of 
 sanitary appliances, and went as near accusing Faulmann of 
 manslaughter as an inspector could in a report. But the 
 reports of factory inspectors are seldom read by the public, 
 and if they were there was no means of compelling Faulmann 
 to comply with the inspector's recommendations. 
 
 So things went on, until one fine day an epidemic of 
 typhoid fever broke out in the wretched place. Death 
 followed death with alarming rapidity. The sanitary 
 inspector reported the existence of an epidemic which 
 demanded immediate attention. The Rural Sanitary Autho- 
 rity sent down a temporary hospital, with a trained nurse 
 and an emergency doctor for the purpose of attending'to the 
 worst cases. - The hospital was soon overcrowded, and 
 still the epidemic showed no signs of abatement. A special 
 committee from the Sanitary Authority with the doctor made a 
 special survey of the place and condemned it root and branch. 
 The houses were badly built; there was no system of 
 , main drainage ; the whole surface of the subsoil was 
 saturated -with ' sewage ; the water supply was tainted ; 
 there was no provision made for cleanliness, and, in short, it 
 would be difficult to conceive a set of human beings more 
 ■ hopelessly doomed to disease and misery than the in- 
 ; habitaiits of the town of Garlam. Mr. Brassy, as the owner 
 . of most of the house property, was duly served with notices 
 , which hepalmly disregarded. 
 
 It was to this town when affairs ware in this condition 
 that Lady ^nid made her way in search of her friend Ethel 
 Merribel, who was -doing duty at the hospital as nurse. 
 After the first excitement of welcome was over. Lady Jinid 
 was startled- to see the change which had come over her 
 - Australian acquaintance. In place of the buoyant, buxom, 
 healthy girl from whom she had parted but two years before, 
 there was a haggard woman, with a weary look in the eyes, 
 and an expression about the. mouth which told more plainly 
 than words could do that she was suffering from a terrible 
 overstrain tending to nervous collapse. It was evident that 
 Lady .Slnid's visit was a profound relief to her friend. 
 
 " You don't know," she said, " what a pleasure it is to see 
 a friendly face again." 
 
 " How long- have you been here ? " asked Lady 5Cnid. 
 
 " I have been here six weeks. It is horrible. It is 
 very different in the big hospital in London where I have 
 been. There the work is hard, no doubt, but it is shared 
 with many, and you feel at any. rate that there is some one 
 caring for you. Here it is not so; nobody cares — it is a 
 God-forsaken place." 
 
 " Does the Company not do anything ? " asked JEnid. 
 
 " Company ! " said the nurse, with a bitter smile, " Com- 
 pany ! Much the Company would care if every one in this 
 hospital were to die before midnight. Nor would many 
 other people care, and some would be very glad." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " said Lady .ainid. " But don't talk 
 now. Take your tea, and you can tell me afterwards if you 
 like." 
 
 " No,"- said Ethel, " it is a relief to tell you. The constant 
 pressure of want, disease and misery, and — I was going to 
 say, sin," she added wearily. " But you don't feel that it is 
 sin any more, and that is the worst of it. Vice and crime 
 seem to come as naturally to these wretched people as 
 breathing, and who can blame them ? It is poisonousr— the 
 atmosphere is poisoned. They are poisoned with lead when 
 they work, and when they come out they are poisoned with 
 the beer they drink, and poisoned by the fojtid miasma which 
 rises from the marsh on which they live. Poison and dirt,— 
 
The Modern Town of Garlam. 
 
 27 
 
 they never escape from them from the hour they are horn 
 till they die. How can you expect such people to be other 
 than they are ? " 
 
 Lady jBnid was seriously alarmed at the vehemence with 
 which her friend spoke. It was evident that the tension was 
 proving too much for her, and that W she remained there 
 much longer she would collapse, and stand in need of nursing 
 as much as any of the patients in the hospital. 
 
 By every means in her power she tried to turn their 
 conversation from the vice and misery of these poor people 
 to the pleasanter memories of. the days in Australia when 
 they were girls together. Fitful, gleams of pleasure would 
 glow upon the nurse's pale cheek, but only for a moment. 
 With the regularity of a pendulum her mind would swing 
 back to the ever-present weight of misery, and the squalid 
 horror of the place was • never , 
 absent from her mind. When 
 tea was over. Lady ^nid in- 
 sisted that they should go out 
 for a short walk. The moon 
 had risen, and the view from 
 the hillside on which the hos- 
 pital stood was not unpleasing, 
 for the sea stretched right 
 before them in the silver moon- 
 beams. However hideous- a 
 man may make the land, the 
 sea at least is beyond his power. 
 
 " Are there no county 
 families," jEnid asked, "to 
 whom you could appeal for 
 help ? " 
 
 " County families ! " said the 
 nurse indignantly. "There is 
 only one county family, and it 
 is worse than none. You have 
 heard, of course, of the Earl of 
 Bladiid? I sometimes wonder, 
 when I am sitting up at night 
 watching by my patients, which 
 is ■ the ■ greater curse to the 
 countryside — the Earl at Sloane 
 Hall, or Mr. Faulmann at his 
 factory. The Earl is young, 
 reckless, drinking himself to 
 death, gambling, spending his 
 substance in riotous living, 
 and thinking only of his own 
 brutal pleasures. ' On the 
 other hand, there is Mr. Faul- 
 mann, bent on making money, 
 as keen in grasping it as 
 the other is in spending it, with a result that you can 
 see." 
 
 " But how does Lord Bladud affect you ? " said .^nid. 
 
 " Come and see," was the reply. " It is not merely Lord 
 Bladud himself, but the servants and keepers at Sloane Hall 
 take him as an example, and live as he does ,to the best of 
 their ability. It is all drinking, and rioting, and worse," 
 eaid Ethel. " Come here." 
 
 Lady JEnii followed her into the hospital. They stood 
 beside a bed on which lay a fair young girl, on whose 
 features death had placed his unearthly seal. Clasped to 
 her breast was a miserable, puny child, whose face was 
 marked with scars and ghastly running sores. Lady ^Enid 
 shuddered. She had never seen anything like it before. 
 
 " Tell me, what does it mean ? " she asked. 
 
 " That is one of the Earl's babies, marked with his sign- 
 manual, they say. It is the third of the kind. All ricketty. 
 
 WHAT A PLEASURE IT IS TO SEE A FRIENDLY PACE ! " 
 
 all rotten from their birth, they cannot, fortunately, live 
 long. , This one willioUow its mother to the grave." 
 
 " But," said .^nid, horrified, " how did he come to have 
 anything to do with her ? " 
 
 " They tell me," said the nurse, " it is impossible to keep 
 a pretty girl in the village. They are born here, I suppose, 
 as elsewhere, but there is nothing to keep them. There is 
 always a demand for pretty housemaids at Sloane Hall, and 
 they all' go the same way. This one, thank God, is dying. 
 She caught the fever and will go even before her baby. The 
 other two are now walking the streets of London. Oh, it is 
 maddening," said the nul:se, " maddening to think of it a'l 
 — what that house might have been to such a place as this, 
 and what it is 1 " 
 
 The door opened. " Oh ! " said the nurse, with a sigh of 
 relief, "here is Dr.. Glogoul! 
 Dr. Griogoul — Lady jEnid." 
 
 "Delighted tQ see Lady ^nid. 
 We have met before, nurse. 
 But, Lady JSnid, this is no 
 place for you." 
 
 " I am the best judge of 
 that,'' she replied airily. "But 
 how did you come here ? " 
 
 "Come to my room," said 
 the doctor, " and we will have 
 a talk." The two girls followed 
 him to his room., "There is 
 no mystery about me," con- 
 tmued the doctor. " Mysteries 
 do not belong to my profession. 
 After I left you I went to 
 London to see a friend. I no 
 sooner found him than he asked 
 me if I were disengaged. ' For,' 
 said he, ' my brother, who is 
 medico at Garlam, is breaking 
 down with the strain of a fever 
 epidemic. It would give you 
 an experience which you can- 
 not get elsewhere. You can 
 conduct what experiments you 
 please, and make what observa- 
 tions you like. There are sorne 
 five thousand persons among 
 whom the epidemic is raging, 
 and there is no one to look 
 after them excepting my brother, 
 who is breaking down, and , a 
 nurse- who has broken down. 
 You need not be afraid of news- 
 paper fellows, because they do 
 not go near the place ; nor of the authorities, for they are 
 ten miles off. Here is your chance.' So," said Dr. Glogoul 
 pleasantly, "I came, and I have 'had a pretty lively time." 
 
 There was something uncanny about the doctor, , and 
 jEnid understood better than before how it was that Ethel 
 had described him as worse than a cannibal. 
 
 " But what experiments are you makmg, doctor ? " 
 "Invaluable experiments," said he. "I am cultivating 
 the bacillus of typhoid fever. I have converted this hospital 
 into a physiological laboratory. Have you ever been at 
 Pasteur's establishment in Paris ? " 
 
 " No," said iEnid, " never. Is that the horrid .place 
 where they vivisect animals ? " 
 
 Glogoul glanced at her with infinite scorn. " Yes, they 
 are reduced to animals at Pasteur's ; here we have humans." 
 " You don't mean to say that you are vivisecting men and 
 women !" cried ^nid, indignantly. 
 
 f 
 
28 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Well, you need not call it vivisection if you do not like. 
 I am cultivating the virus of typhoid fever. By starting 
 fresh cultures from vreakened ones I hope to have it suffi- • 
 ciently attenuated so as to be able to inoculate every one 
 against typhoid fever ; I am almost on the point of success. 
 Indeed, in another day or two I shall have arrived at results 
 which wiU justify me in writing a monograph on the subject 
 for the Academy of Medicine." 
 
 Ethel here remarked, " Of course, doctor, you only experi- 
 ment when you are quite sure it is sufficiently attenuated ? " 
 
 " My dear nurse," said Dr. Glogoul, " I am surprised that 
 any one in your profession should be so ignorant of the first 
 condition of experiments, when you know positively there 
 is no need for experiment. The other day I inoculated 
 five perfectly healthy subjects. It is true that they were 
 healthy — that is, healthy at the moment I pricked them — 
 but they were not healthy five minutes afterwards; and 
 after all it is only a question of time. They took typhoid 
 fever in due course, and are going through all its stages." 
 
 Ethel's eyes were dilated with horror. " You don't mean 
 to say that you give healthy people typhoid fever merely in 
 order to experiment ? " 
 
 " Of course," replied he, '' we all do it. What are your 
 great London hospitals for but to collect the poor in order 
 that they may be used as experiments for the benefit of the 
 rich ? Surely you don't need me to tell you that." 
 
 " But suppose," said Lady iEnid, " any of the patients you 
 inoculate should die ? " 
 
 " One of them did," said the doctor calmly. " What of 
 that ? There is only so much more organic matter reduced 
 to its elements. The death of a thousand such cattle as 
 these," said he airily, " cannot be compared with the gain 
 to science which my discovery will be." 
 
 Ethel Merribel remained quiet, bat her fingers worked 
 convulsively in her apron. 
 
 "It seems to me," said Lady ^nil angrily, "you stand a 
 good chance of being hanged as a murderer. Dr. Glogoul." 
 
 " Not nowadays," said he carelessly ; " we are too civilised 
 for that. There is a certain risk, of course, but the pioneer 
 must often take his life in his hands and be ready to die if 
 need be that others may live." 
 
 "Xow, Dr. Glogoul," said Lady ^nid, "don't talk like 
 that. It is odious to hear you talk science ; but when you 
 come to cant, it is really more than I can stand." 
 
 " Well, well," said he, " I am now going to inoculate a 
 baby with the matter from the infant whose mother is dying." 
 
 Ethel rose without speaking a word, and left the room. 
 They could see her through the door go down to the bedside 
 of the dying woman. 
 
 " Dr. Glogoul," said Lady jEnid, " you are not going to 
 inoculate a healthy child with the poison from that infant?" 
 
 " Such is my intention, madam," said he, indifferently. 
 
 " But you are not going to do any such thing," jEnid 
 replied. 
 
 Somewhat amazed at the tone of quiet decision, he looked 
 up. " Why not ? " he asked. 
 
 " Because if you do I shall have you arrested within 
 twenty-four hours for attempted murder." 
 
 " Bah, what folly is this ? There is no one here to arrest 
 me, and supposing you do bring a constable from Sloane, 
 there is no evidence against me. But," said he, chaiiging 
 his tone, " if it annoys you, I will not make the experiment 
 imtil you depart." 
 
 " Your word of honour ? " said ^nid, looking at him 
 intently. 
 
 " I will not pursue my experimental researches until you 
 have left Garlam." 
 
 "Thanks," she said. "It is a bargain. I must rejoin 
 nurse." 
 
 At her approach Ethel looked up furtively, as if expeotinw 
 to see the doctor. " Don't be alarmed, Ethel dear," Mnii 
 said in a whisper. " He has promised he will not do 
 anything as long as I am here." 
 
 " Then," said Ethel, " you will stay here until he leaves." 
 
 Lady iEnid pressed her hand, and they remained silent by 
 the bedside of the dying woman. Dr. Glogoul made his 
 round, left his written instructions and departed. Presently 
 the woman began to moan feebly. 
 
 Lady Mnid knew instinctively that for the first time she 
 was in the presence of death. She was awed and silent. 
 Ethel, with the trained habit of a nurse, busied he.-self with 
 little ministrations of tenderness and mercy. 
 
 " Where is he ? " whispered the dying woman under her 
 breath. " Why does he not come ? I have waited for him 
 so long — oh, so very, very long ! " 
 
 She spoke brokenly, with pauses between the words. 
 Ethel took the wasted .hand in hers and caressed it softly. 
 
 The patient slowly opened her hollow eyes and fixed them 
 on the two girls with a half vacant, half puzzled air. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she said at last, slowly. " Why are 
 you here ? " 
 
 " Taking care of you, dear," said the nurse. " Now, don't 
 talk, or you will tire yourself. Come, take a spoonful of 
 this ; it will do you good." 
 
 " Tire myself ! " said the girl-mother, as she swallowed 
 the medicine,' with a slightly reproachful accent. " If only 
 he would come! " 
 
 The child lying by her side gave a piteous little moan- 
 ing , cry^-miserable in its weakness. Its mother slowly 
 turned' her mournful eyes to the p)uny little bundle of disease 
 and pain. "He told me nothing would come of it," she 
 moaned; "and now he has never come to look after his 
 child." 
 
 She was silent; her eyelids sank heavily upon the long 
 underlashes. Lady Enid's eyes filled with tears. The 
 little hand of the baby was clutching its mother's ear. Then 
 a change oame. The girl shuddered- and moaned. Then 
 she opened her eyes almost with a jerk, and tried to 
 speak. 
 
 " You .liave not come ! " she said, " not yet. And it is 
 too late— now. But — but not here! Yonder! Do you 
 
 hear ? " she gasped. " You must meet me there, and " 
 
 her strength fiickered, her voice failed, and ceased. 
 
 Lady Mnid thought all was over, and was rising. Ethel 
 restrained her with a look. The dying woman heaved a 
 long, slow breath ; the closed eyes opened heavily, the thin 
 lips quivered. And the watchers by the death-bed heard 
 her mutter : 
 
 " And soon ! " 
 
 A slight tremor passed over the body, the breathing 
 ceased. Her great hollow eyes stared impassively into 
 vacancy. The woman was dead. 
 
 The two girls slowly made their way to the matron's 
 room. Hardly had they shut the door than Ethel dropped 
 into a chair and -buried her head in her hands. She swayed 
 her .body to and fro, saying nothing. 
 
 " Ethel dear," said ^Bnid, "bear up. It is better so." 
 
 Ethel looked up. " I am not thinking about her, I am not 
 thinking about her. Yes, it is better so. But the others. 
 There seems to be such an eiidless succession. How long 
 will that bed be empty ? It will be filled almost before we 
 have had time to lay but the corpse of its last occupant. I 
 cannot' stand it. It is not as if it were unavoidable. Three- 
 fourths of the misery which I have seen since I caroe here 
 has been distinctly due to two men— Lord Bladud on the one 
 hand, and Mr. Faulmann on the other. When I sit up at 
 night listening to the moaning of these people, or when I go 
 out to the village and try to do something for the miserable 
 
The Modern Town of GarlAm. 
 
 29 
 
 victims of lead poisoning, I know that it is due to tlie 
 determination of the company to have twenty per cent, 
 rather than to h? content with fifteen. I feel as if I were 
 going mad. I know how Charlotte Corday felt when she 
 killed Marat." 
 
 Lady Jiaid put her hand upon her f" nd's lips. " Hush ! " 
 she said. " Do not speak lightly of murder." 
 
 " Murder ! " said Ethel. " Murder ! What do you mean by 
 talkicg of murder ? Who is murdering — who has murdered 
 ihit girl whose dsath-bed we have just left? Who has 
 murdered all those who are dying in the village at the pre- 
 sent moment ? Murder ! Do you call it murder, that swift 
 death hy shining steel, or swifter bullet that kills painlessly 
 and at once ? And do you 
 not call it murder when 
 death is delayed by long 
 drawn-out torture? No, 
 JEuid, no. Let us call 
 things by their right 
 names." 
 
 "My dear Ethel," said 
 .Baid firmly, "you will 
 never be able to get 
 through your work' if you 
 give way like tliis." 
 
 "My work has got 
 through me," said Ethel 
 grimly. " It . is no use 
 working any more. What 
 is the use of my patching 
 up the wrecks of bodies, 
 when those two men are 
 allowed to shatter them 
 wholesale ? You say my 
 nerves are giving way — it 
 is no wonder. Do you 
 know what I see night 
 after night in the darkness 
 when I lie in my bed 
 trying to sleep, and being 
 unable to get these dread- 
 fdl thoughts from my 
 uiind ? Peopls talk of 
 haunted houses and of 
 ghosts of the dead, but 
 what are they to the 
 ghosts of the living ? Yes, 
 there are two ghosts, 
 horrible as demons, which 
 never ^leave this place. 
 Oh ! " said she, and her 
 fingers began to work con- 
 vulsively, " can you not 
 
 see them? Look! by the side of that dead woman whom 
 we have just left there is the phantom form of Lord 
 Bladud ! He stands there and he laughs, and then buries 
 .... oh, horror ! " cried the almost frenzied girl, pointing 
 in the diraction of the death-bed. " Do you see what he is 
 doing?" 
 
 " No,'' said JSnid, " I see nothing." 
 
 " You are blind," said Ethel savagely. "He is burying 
 his teeth in her bosom. He is eating, eating his way to her 
 heart ! Oh, the foul vampire that he is ! Now he stands 
 up — his mouth is alLfrothing with blood. Oh, Lady :MmA ! 
 Lady jEnid ! " she cried, " heliD me, help me, I am going 
 mad ! " 
 
 "My dear Ethel," said .^nid firmly, "you certainly will 
 go mad if you do not allow me to put you to bed and give 
 you a sedative." 
 
 TOU ARE NOT GOING TO INOCITLATE 
 WITH POISON ! " 
 
 " Sedatives are no good. I have tried them all. It is no 
 use, no use. That loathly vampire stands there with his 
 bloody jaws, but even he is not so bad as the other one. 
 The other one never leaves the place. Lord Bladud only 
 comes sometimes, but the other one is always here. Do you 
 not hear him ? " asked the girl. She raised her.self upon the 
 bed where Lady MniA had laid her. " Do you not hear him ? 
 Hark how he goes from bed to bed." 
 
 " No," said jEnid, " the place is perfectly still. There is 
 only the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece." 
 
 "You say that," Ethel cried. "You say that to deceive 
 me, but you cannot. You must see what he is doing." 
 " No," said Lady iEnid ; " what is it ? " 
 
 " He is going from bed 
 to bed, and at each he 
 stops and listens ; and 
 when the patient moans 
 he smiles, and when they 
 writhe in jiain he laughs 
 and rubs his hands. For 
 why ? — oh, for why ? " she 
 said. " Do you know for 
 why ? Because every pang 
 they suffer means gold — 
 yellow gold — in his purse ! 
 it is full of the souls of 
 miserable men, who have 
 died that he might be rich. 
 Oh, the little children ! Do 
 you hear them crying. 
 Lady ^nid? I do— cry- 
 ing through the night for 
 their father who will never 
 come back to them any 
 more, and for their mother 
 who is in the cold, cold 
 grave because of that 
 man's greed! It would 
 / have cost so little," she 
 said piteously — "so little! 
 Only to sink the well a 
 little higher up the hill. 
 It would not have cost 
 ^t^ him one per cent., but he 
 ' would not do it. And now 
 he is coming here — he is 
 coming to me to take away 
 my reason, and make me 
 as the others! Oh, help. 
 Lady JEniil help!" she 
 cried, and then, shudder- 
 ing convulsively, fell back 
 in a dead faint. 
 Lady .S!uid hastily summoned the servant in attendance, 
 and together they succeeded in putting Ethel Merribel to bed, 
 and prepared a sedative which they administered to her as 
 soon as she came to herself again. 
 
 " What will you do ? " asked the servant. 
 " I will remain with her through the night." 
 And Lady jEnid remained not only for that night, but 
 for many days and many nights, nursing the nurse back 
 into life, and helping as best she could in the adminis- 
 tration of the hospital. The Duchess, without wishing 
 to appear to sanction such unorthodox procedure, thought 
 it wisdom not to challenge opposition from her self- 
 willed niece, and confined herself to acquainting Lady 
 Belsover with .Enid's latest whim, and to sending her 
 such necessities and small comforts as the occasion 
 demanded. 
 
 A HEALTHY CHILD 
 
30 
 
 OH, HOSHOU r DO YOU SEE WHAT HE IS DOIXG ? ' 
 
A Birthday Party at the " Radical Arms." 
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A BIKTHDAT PARTY AT THE " RADICAL ARMS." 
 
 r^ DMUND WILKES' tnee recovered slowly. He chafed : 
 ^j* bitterly against the enforced ina^on. It was impos- 
 ^" sible- for the Eadical. campaign to begin until he 
 had at least two legs to stand upon. At present he 
 had only one, and the doctor warned him that if he 
 attempted to address a meeting he would be lamed for the 
 rest of his natural life. His irritation was increased when 
 he heard frond correspondents in all parts of Blankshire that 
 Lord Bulstrode's party was .preparing for the campaign. 
 Not that any -meeting had been held, but Primrose Dames 
 had been seen flitting about mysteriously.- In many 
 parishes there had been heard sermons against spoliation 
 and sacrilege, which to the rustics who. hfeaid them seemed ;to 
 have no practical meaning beyond an exhortation to vote 
 for Lord Bulstrode, although, of. course, his' lordship's name 
 was never mentioned. 
 
 Sociable by nature, and accustomed to . meet meu and 
 women of his own age, and to be in the ihidst of the life, 
 and movement of the day, he. found it terribly dull being 
 cooped up in the best room of the " Radical Arms," with no 
 one to speak to with the exception of an'.boc'asional! Radical 
 committee man who would look in to tell him how, things 
 were going ; and' as they were not usually going his way, 
 these visitOTS tended' rather to. aggravate than 'to alle- 
 viate his irritation. His acquaintance -with- the minister, 
 Ebenezer Brown, ripened into something like friendship, and 
 Hopton looked in every evening; but still Wilkes feltivery 
 lonely. As his birthday was ' approaching he, in sheer 
 despair, wrote to' two or three of his friends in town to. ask . 
 them to' come down and cheer' him. in his loneliness, at the 
 " Radical Arms." . "Come down,". he wrote, " I beseech yoii, 
 and have compassion upon my. solitude,-and let the light.of 
 your countenance shine once more upon theafflicted prisoner, 
 Edmund Wilkes." 
 
 In response to that, appeal, three or foui* of. his old 
 college friends came down- from London and spent his birth- 
 day with him in Rigby.. ■ There was Sir Artegal Haddon, a 
 Conservative, of the Conservatives, but absolutely free froni 
 prej udibe or bigotry. . As to the old order,, he saw. they^ were 
 changing,' and giving place to a- new and not'by any meanis 
 a better order. But, even if- the. change were advantageous, 
 it would be all the better if it were not rushed, he thought. 
 He defended all. the superstitions and "prejudices of his clasfe, 
 not because he believed in them, but becauseit seemed to him 
 they.were tesuporarily useful in retarding what he regarded 
 as the hothouse growth of Radical nostrums. ' With 
 him came Dick MJlman', one of the -bright and . shining 
 lights ofBalliol, whose friends were quite sure that he would 
 be Prime Minister some day, or if not Prime Minister, then . 
 Viceroyof. India, or Archbishop of Canterbury,' or anything 
 else he chose to desire.. For Djck had been born under a 
 lucky star, and whether he devoted himself to journalism, 
 finance, or to administration, it was all the same. ■ An unseen 
 pow€r seemed to thrust him forward' from behind, la,nding 
 him- at the top of .the tree before his rivals had reached the 
 first branch. He was a msm of detached mind. Secluded 
 by his position from- active pavtizanship, yet he was closely 
 linked both by personal and social ties with leaders oh 'both 
 sides. He saw as much of the game Of politics as most 
 men, and judged them with the impartiality of one Who is 
 without and the knowledge of one Who is' within. , ' • ■ 
 
 Another old crony of Wilkes' was a man of a very 
 different stamp. It would be somewhat difficult to locate 
 preeisely the political position of Mr. Rawton SOvertongae. 
 He was the most cosmopolitan of the group. Bom beir to 
 an Irish estate, he speedily discovered that it- would yield 
 
 him but a miserable subsistence ; so, without abandoning 
 his ancestral acres,, he applied himself with the courage and 
 resource of an EUzabethan adventurer to build- up a fortune 
 for him self.-' In this quest he had ' travelled -much and far. 
 He had owtied cattle ■ by the -hundred thousand in the 
 great Western ranches, and then when they were smitten 
 by the drought he transferred himself with equal faciUty 
 to the Court of Sfei-ihgapatam, where he occupied for a 
 time the position of confldeiitial adviser to the Maharajah. 
 Wearying of the limitations Of the feudatory prince, he 
 retiirded to the Western- world, and spent his time between 
 Washington -aild. Lohdon. No. Englishman was so versed 
 in all the intrigues of the lobby at Washington, or more 
 familiar with all the ins and outs of the. political- and 
 financial world in London. After trying many'modes of 
 diversion, he finally came to the conclusion that you got 
 more sport for ' your moHey ih hunting the currency, hatfe 
 than by any other pursuit known to maiik-ind. Mr. Silver- 
 tongue therefore- became the impassioned advocate afld 
 apostle- of bimetallism, in which he saw the only'liope of 
 uhregenerate. man. ■ He delighted to haunt the salons of the 
 great in order to whisper in the ears' of his hosts warnings- 
 of the revolution and disaster which- awaited them if they 
 refused, to remonetise silver. 
 
 One day he would' indite-an article in one of the monthly 
 reviews, proving irrefutably, from a survey Of the history of 
 the world, that civilisation "had only one hinge, and that 
 hingff was the ratic of silver -to; -'gold.- -Another night .he 
 would be dining, with a Rothschild, describing to the financial 
 m9.gnate how his house in Piccadilly would sorne day be sur- 
 rounded by a howling mob,' while he, Mi-. Silve'rtongue, would 
 endeavoiir to' pacify the crowd iy handing' oiit all the plate. 
 A third time he would be .addressing .a- Chamber of 
 Coinmeroe, ani setting forth the fact that, the' insatiate 
 devotion of. the white man to the yellow inoney would lead 
 tq.the transfer of the industrial supremacy of the world to 
 the yellow man .with the' white money. ... 
 
 (With these three came a young peer, who had jiist 
 succeeded to a heavily, mortgaged and encumbered estate^a 
 manifuU of : generous -illusions, resourceful, open-jninded, 
 w;ell-informed, and resolute to carry out whatever seemed to. 
 him to be the duties of his position. 
 
 'Such. were the' foui: companions whoin' Edmund Wilkes, 
 gathered round him at the " Radical Arms," in order to- 
 celebrate his .birthday. Very .pleasant was-their talk', and. 
 many the reminiscences of college and other days wliicb 
 they indulged during dinner;' but' il was not until the 
 cigarettes were produced and they fell to smoking, that they 
 bggan to taUc. seriously- of politics.. Of course, they began 
 ,with a. speculation as to the result of the coming General 
 Election. . • ' 
 
 .."-Oh, we.sha,ll.lose of course," said Wilkes, "outside 
 Blankshire I mean," he added, smiling. "You fellows have 
 the game all in yoiir own hands."'' . , - - 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," said Sir Artegal. "Never 
 prophesy iinless you know is' a^good rule, at all times, and an 
 especially good rule when you are dealing with that very 
 dark , horse, the British piiblic. ■ No- one knows what an 
 hour may bring forth.- iThatis one of the charms of politics. 
 "Kou- are always face to face with the inscrutable." 
 
 ■-'.'I. don't:knbw,!' said' Milman, "the one thing certain is 
 that the outs always iVih a General Election. Parties have 
 their tupi in oflffice,just as'two elevens' have alternate innings 
 in tiicericketi'field." ' . ' 
 
 ' "Bttt sometimes," said Sir Artegal^ " yoii have, to ' follow 
 on ' in cri Aet." 
 
 " Sometimes," said Milman. " But in politics it happens so 
 seldam thafrit^oes not count: I should say the betting was 
 five to one for a Conservative majority at the comingslection." 
 
32 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Ten to one, I should say," said Silvertongue, " since the 
 glamour of Lord Hosebery has been dissipated and Ladas 
 has lost the St. Leger." 
 
 " Well," said Sir Artegal, " I have known Lord Eosebery 
 since he was a schoolboy. He is shrewd, resourceful, 
 reserved. He is by no means a heaven-sent statesman; 
 but neither is he the idiot which our side is attempting 
 to make him out to be. He has a very difficult game to 
 play, and is playing it much more adroitly than any of his 
 censors could do if they were in his place. But they are 
 overdoing it, and the ne.xt thing will be that, before we 
 know where we are, he will once more be a heaven-sent 
 statesman as he was when he first became Prime Minister." 
 
 " I have been very much disappointed in him," said Lord 
 EastweU. " We had hoped he would have come out strongly 
 on the Imperial line." 
 
 "And," interi'upted Wilkes sarcastically, "wrecked his 
 Government before it had been a week old. What would 
 you have thought nf him then? Surely Mr. Gladstone's 
 experience in 188(3 should have cured Liberal leaders of the 
 desire to execute curves with too great a rapidity, 'i'he 
 situation does not call for heroics of that kind; indeed, it 
 very seldom does, excepting when the Forum gapes for your 
 Quintus Cm-tius, and it might gape until the day of judgment 
 before Lord Eosebery would leap into it." 
 
 " There you are wrong," said Sir Artegal. " He is quite 
 capable of doing that, if only because he has gained 
 everything which he can expect to obtain. Remember — 
 
 Worse than adversity that befell, 
 He felt the fuluess of satiety. 
 
 " Do you think he ha? achieved everything ? " said Dick 
 Milman. " I should say that he had only found the tools 
 with which he could do anything. Here is the British 
 Empire practically waiting reconstruction. Never had a 
 statesman a greater chance. To speak of him having 
 achieved everything merely because he has in his possession 
 that which will enable him to achieve everything, seems to me 
 to be absurd. But a truce to this endless discussion about Lord 
 Eosebery, which always ends in the discovery that he is a 
 darker horse than we imagined. What are you going to do 
 in Blankshire V " 
 
 " Get my knee better first," said Wilkes, " and then make 
 it as lively as I can for tlie Duke." 
 
 " What particular strip of Liberalism do you affect ? " said 
 Lord EastweU. 
 
 "Oh," saiil Wilkes, " I woidd be an Independent La:bour . 
 candidate if I had ever done a stroke of work in my life, 
 which I haven't, and I am not quite callable of masquerading 
 as a working-man." 
 
 " The scruple does you honour," said Milman, laughing. 
 " It does not seem to trouble some gentlemen with whom 
 you are in the habit of colleaguing." 
 
 " You see," said Wilkes, " I am a Socialist and a Democrat. . 
 I do not care a straw for' the present. Government of mono- 
 polists and of landowners and large eriiployers of labour; 
 It is a Government composed of the natural enemies of the 
 working-man. If we can only threaten them enough, we 
 shall succeed in making them give us some unwilling con- 
 cessions which we shall accept as instalments. But nothing . 
 will content us except the nationalisation of all means of 
 production, commencing with the land." 
 
 Lord EastweU pricked up his ears. " Eeally, why 
 beginning with the land ? " 
 
 " The land," said Wilkes, " is the source of all wealth. All 
 private ownership in land is usurpation, and the sooner it 
 ceases- the better." 
 
 " Stufl' and nonsense ! " said Silvertongue. " What the 
 mischief do you want to nationalise the land for V Look at 
 
 my little property in Ireland. How much in the last ten 
 years do you think I have drawn from my patrimonial 
 estate ? Why, not a red cent. The whole of the rent paid 
 by the tenants was swallowed up' in the administration of 
 the estate, and this year I have just had to send them a 
 cheque for £500 to balance accounts, i'recious little piofit 
 the State would get out of Ballymeoarry if it were nation- 
 alised." 
 
 " Oh, well, Irish land, you know," said Wilkes, " is 
 different." 
 
 " Different," said Lord EastweU, " chiefly because the 
 agricultural depression is less felt in Ireland than it is in 
 England. In Ireland you can get rent; in l^'igland you 
 cannot." . 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Wilkes. " What do you say 
 to the rent-roll of the Duke of Eastland, the Duke of 
 Northumberland, and others who might be named ? " 
 
 " I mean this," said Lord EastweU hotly — ". if you take 
 the southern and eastern counties of England, with which I., 
 am better acquainted,' you will find that purely agricultural 
 land has no rental value at all. In short, agricultural land, 
 in England at this present moment has sunk to prairie 
 value." 
 
 " I see ! " said Wilkes sarcastically. " And what about the 
 rent-rolls of the country, which, judging from statistics, do 
 not seem' to have fallen off very materially ? " 
 
 ■ " I don't know about your statistics," said Lord EastweU, 
 " but this 1 will say— if you take any estate in these eastern 
 counties, and go into matters carefully, you will find that 
 what is nominally called rent is nothing less than interest 
 on capital— outlay by the landlord. You cannot strike at 
 that without striking at investments of every kind." 
 
 " Oh, that is what is always said," replied Wilkes airily. 
 
 " It is true," retorted Lord EastweU. " Who is going to 
 sink money in rebuilding a farmstead or draining a bog, if 
 the .whole of his money is to be airily wiped out by. you 
 Eadical fellows because it happens to be invested in land ? " 
 
 " But," said Sir Artegal, " without discussing the morality 
 of the question, will you explain to me how it is that any one 
 is going to invest capital in land in the future, if it is once 
 laid down that the only kind of capital which is entitled to 
 no protection is capital invested in land ? " " 
 
 " Excepting capital invested in strong drink ; that is 
 also outlawed without benefit of clergy," interrupted , 
 Si!vi3rtongue. 
 
 ,"6h," said Wilkes, "why talk like that? People wUl 
 he keen enough to invest money in their own holdings when 
 the great estates, are broken up and the whole country is 
 covered with peasant proprietors." ... . , , 
 
 "HutQ," said, Lord EastweU, "perhaps you. have not had 
 so much expei:ience in dealing with peasants, or the labourers 
 whom you are proposing to convert into peasants, as some 
 of us. Take myself, for instance. I have done my best to 
 develop small holdings on my estates., I have done this, not , 
 because of philanthroijy, but because I think the landed 
 interest has followed a suicidal policy in destroying those 
 who ought to have been its most effective supporters. We 
 certainly should not have had Free Trade, which is ruining, . 
 us, if, instead of a few landowners, the whole country, had ■ 
 been covered with small proprietors. If you doubt that, 
 look at France. What is the invariable rule whenever I 
 grant an allotment? I have always to advance the money. 
 I have to drain the land or to fence it or to put up buildings. , 
 I do this, and do it gladly ; but if you are to go through the ,,- 
 county preaching the doctrine that. capital invested. in land 
 is to bear nointerest, you put the knife to the throat of aU . 
 improvements." 
 
 "Now," said Silvertongue, "if you want to nationaUse 
 something, why don't you begin with a business that pays? 
 
A Birthday Party at the " Radical Arms." 
 
 33 
 
 Why not nationalise railways, or banks, or pawnbrokers, or 
 anything rather than the only industry in the country which 
 is stricken to death by the fiscal system which you have 
 deliberately adopted ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lord Eastwell, " and vrhft is more, there seems 
 to be no bottom to it. The fall in pi;ioes in agricultural 
 produce alone this year represents a loss of twelve millions 
 sterling to the British farmer." 
 
 " But look at the countryside," said Silvertongue. " Look 
 at Kent, to say nothing of Blankshire here. They are all 
 studded with empty houses, which stand like sepulchres of 
 the deceased landed interest. Where are the owners ? They 
 cannot make lanl pay, and do you think the State will ? " 
 
 " That is all very well," said Wilkes., " These owners, 
 where are they, and why are their houses shut up? Simply 
 because they have outrun the constable. The agricultural 
 depression is responsible no doubt to some extent, but the agri- 
 cultural depression has much less to do with the reduction of 
 • our landed aristocracy to their present impecunious position 
 than "the reckless expenditure which was the result of sense- 
 less emulation. For one country house which has been 
 shut upr because rents have fallen, you wiU find two which 
 have been closed because their owners spent 30s. for every 
 twenty they received. The fact is that the struggle of the 
 peers to outdo the plutocracy in expenditure has finished the 
 ruin which the democratic movement of our time brought to 
 their order. Beaten from one stronghold after another by 
 successive reform bills, they entrenched themselves at last in 
 their social position. Tl^ey would still flaunt it with the 
 best. Then the new men came in, and'just as the Radicals 
 had ousted them from a monopoly of the representation 
 of the House of Commons, so the brBwew, the bankers, and 
 the millionaires from across the' seas have ousted them 
 from that posi ion of social pre-eminence which is due to 
 the expenditure of money. As one of their number said 
 recently, the pace was set by the 7umveaux riches ; and the 
 landed nobles, instead of taking refuge in a proud but 
 honourable poverty, eagerly accepted the challenge, and have 
 gone under, exhausted by their own folly and extravagance. 
 And England is now studded from end to end with the 
 castles of splendid paupers." 
 
 " And supposing all this is true," said Sir Artegal — " and 
 no one can deny that there is much truth in it— why should 
 you select this broken interest, weighed down with mort- 
 gages and hopelessly crippled with debt, as that of all others 
 which you propose first to nationalise ? " 
 
 "They have had their day," said Wilkes, "and must now 
 make room for men who will bring business instincts to the 
 management of their estates." 
 
 " Commercial instincts, you mean," said Milman ; " and I 
 wish you joy of the exchange. The old aristocrat may 
 have been a fool — no doubt he often ^as— but so far as the 
 people in the mid^t of whom he lived are concerned, they 
 will find thenewplutocrat will- chastise them with scorpions; 
 whereas the old noble but scourged them with whips." ' 
 
 " What I don't see," said Lord Eastwell, " is where you 
 are going to ge]t the margin with which to carry on. You 
 talk about allotments, but if you had had any experience 
 with land at all you would know that only a fractional part 
 of the land is capable of being cultivated as allotments." 
 
 " Oh," said Wilkes, " what we propose to dp is to constitute 
 a commission in every county, which will be "era powered to 
 ascertain how much land there is that is "available for allot- 
 ments, and then proceed to divide it up." 
 
 " And how do you expect," said Lord Eastwell, smiling, 
 " to cultivate the remainder ? For the land which can be 
 cultivated, as allotments constitutes what we farmers- would 
 call the ' eyes ' of our farms. Only the other day I let a - 
 farm which" had been lying vacant for two years, and I was 
 
 only able to do so by adding to it a field, without which, the 
 tenant declared, it would be impossible to make it pay. In 
 a few days my labourers came to me and asked that they 
 might have that field for allotments. But if I divided that 
 thirty acres among them as allotments, I should have three 
 hundred acres thrown on my hands without a tenant. They 
 saw how the land lay, and did not press their application. 
 You will find in Blankshire, and elsewhere," he added, 
 " that while the labourer is anxious to have a garden, he 
 will not say, ' Thank you ' for a small farm." 
 
 " I am of the same opinion," said Sir Artegal, " as the 
 late Lord Derby, who used always to put this riddle; which 
 no one seems to have answered : Who is it wants land in 
 this country? Here, in Blankshire, we have 20,000 acres 
 of land lying derelict, which will not pay rates and taxes. 
 There seems to be no land-hunger in Blankshire now. In 
 Ireland, yes ; in the North of Scotland, yes ; but here — no. 
 So far from hungering and thirsting after land, it seems to 
 me people will not have land as a gift." 
 
 " Try," said Wilkes, savagely. " See what a paradox it is. 
 Look at Holland. The iSutch, one of the most thrifty- 
 people in the world, are beginning to pump the Zuyder Zee 
 dry, spending £12,000,000 sterling on that transaction. 
 Why ? To reclaim from the ocean depths, as it were, some 
 100,000 acres of land. Here we have farms which are drained, 
 fenced, with roads and farmsteads, near to the greatest 
 market in the world, and you cannot find any one to take 
 them ! Is it possible to frame a more terrible indictment of 
 the system under which this is possible ? " 
 
 " You may indict the system as much as you please, but 
 that does not affect the fact," said Lord Eastwell, " that you 
 cannot get people to cultivate the land. The system which 
 renders it impossible is not the system of which you 
 complaiii. The system which is really to blame is that by 
 which yeu crush- the land by a ruinous burden of local 
 taxation, and at the same time keep your markets open for 
 India and Australia to undersell all that your land produces. 
 That is the system which is ruining English agriculture, not 
 the landed interest which is your hSte noire." 
 
 " Tell me, Wilkes," said Dick Milman, " do you really 
 doubt that English agricultural land at present is a drug in 
 the inarket ? " 
 
 " Under the present system, of course." 
 
 "Never mind about the present system," continued 
 Milman. " Will you believe me when I say that one of the 
 most prominent peers. in the country said to me only the 
 other day, ' If any one were to offer me as a free gift 
 agricultural land with a nominal rental of £100,000 a year, 
 I would refuse it. It would cost me more than £100,000 to- 
 keep the estate up.' He illustrated this by telling me a 
 fact in his own experience. ' My estate,' he said, ' in 
 Buckinghamshire, has a nominal rental of £12,000 a year. 
 Supposing you reckon that to keep vip the house and 
 grounds cost £3,000 a year, I ought then to have a rental of 
 £9.,600. But how much do you think I got last year? 
 £6,000, £3,000, £1,000 ? No, instead of receiving anything, 
 I had to send a cheque for £6,000 to meet the deficit on that 
 estate.' " " 
 
 "But we all know cases like that," said Silvertongue, 
 " I pould mention nobleman after noblernan who this year 
 has received nothing, and has to face a reduction of the 
 November rents." 
 
 " I have never been able to see,'' said Sir Artegal, " why 
 you should object to land going out of cultivation in England. 
 If wheat can be grown more cheaply in India, why- should 
 you lament that land in Blankshire, which is only capable of 
 growing wheat, should have gone out of cultivation ? From 
 the point of view of Free Trade it is very illogical," 
 
 " So it is," said Silvertongue. " But even your most 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 vehement Free Trader knows that men do not live hy bread, 
 alone, and no healthy State can exist which has all its 
 population crowded in great cities, and no human reserve in 
 the country to renew the Vigour of its population." 
 
 " Oh, but you are not a Free Trader, Silvertongue," said 
 Sir Artegal. 
 
 " Yes I am, up to a point," said Silvertongue, " and every 
 one is — up to a point. Talie the Cobden Club for instancfe ; 
 it would not be in favour of allowing the land to go derelict 
 if it knew that we should have war with France next 
 year." 
 
 " Your argument points then," said Milman, " rather to 
 the relief of the land than to an increase of the burdens upon 
 it, whereas Wilkes, I understand, is anxious to tax the land- 
 lord out of existence." 
 
 " Precisely," said Wilkes ; " we have bfegun with the death 
 duties, and we shall more and more saddle the land with the 
 whole cost of local administration." 
 
 " And yet," said Sir Artegal, " the landlord is the only 
 capitalist in the country who corresponds in any way to 
 your socialist ideal." 
 
 " How do yo\i make tliat out ? " asked Wilkes. 
 
 " He receives the sinallest interest upon his investments to 
 li?^in with, and of the proportion which he does receive he 
 returns to the general community a far greater proportion 
 than any of those who are engaged in trade or who 
 Jiave money in Consols." 
 
 " I will give you a case in point," said Milman. " I know 
 ■" two brothers — two of my uncles, in fact — who, fifty years 
 ago, came into possession of £100,000 upon tlieir father's 
 death. The elder brother took his £100,000 in the shape of 
 the family seat, which yielded him, after paying cost of 
 administration, about £3,000 a year. My other uncle had' 
 his £100,000 in Consols. This was fifty yeslrs ago: The 
 uncle who had the estate has lived on it ever sifice. He 
 was a frugal man, and 'was able to keep his expenditure 
 down to abbut £2,000^ a year. The other thousand he 
 devoted, year by vear, to the improvement of the estate. It 
 was his ambition to have his labourers well housed ; to 
 have a good water supply for the villages ; to furnish 
 them \vith reading-rooms, and generally to make the life 
 of the labourers on his estate as happy as possible. Out 
 nf the £2,000 a year which he allowed for liviiig expenses, 
 lie contributed at least £200 to schools and churches and 
 local institutions. Besides this, his park, which is not 
 A'ery large, but is very beautiful, with a fine herd of deer, 
 was as much at the service of the public as any of the royal 
 parka in the neighbourhood of London. His house was the 
 centre of all efforts for the improvement of the condition of 
 the jJeople, and was the common meeting-place' for rich and 
 ])oor in the country-side. Now, after fifty years, my uncle 
 i< an old man of seventy. The fall in the value of produce 
 has brought down his net rent-roll from £3,000 to £1,500 a 
 year, which is only three per cent, on the £50,000 he has 
 iavested in the estate since he came into its possession. 
 That is to say, the whole of his £100,000 is wiped out, 
 and he is living upon the interest of his savings. 
 
 " Contrast this with my other uncle. He put his £100,000 
 in Consols and lived in a house in Kensington, spending 
 about £2,000 a year. His money came to him punctually 
 every quarter-day. He had no responsibility for its' 
 ciil!ei.tion, nor diil he feel any personal obligation towards 
 those who paid him his income. Living in Kensington, he 
 hid no local responsibilities. He was neither a Justice of 
 the Peace, nor a member of the Quarter Sessions, nor an 
 ex-officio Guardian. His time, like his money, was his ONvn. 
 He was not expected to subscribe to schools, churches or 
 charities, and all the other local institutions which tell so 
 heavily upon the purse of the landlord. Instead of being 
 
 rated, as his brother was, upon the fuU value of £3,000 a 
 year, he paid- rates upon his house rent, which was not more 
 than £500 a year. ■ For .every penny one paid in rates the 
 other paid a schilling. At the end of fifty 3-ears this uncle 
 has a secure, fortune of £150,000 in Consols, with no 
 encumbratices, no obligations. - He has spent twice as much 
 upon himself, and' has but given one-tenth the anioiint of 
 thought to his neighbours that the other brpthfir hap done. 
 Yet according to your scheme of the universe, Wilkes, it 
 seems that the one who ought to be h'eld up to execration as 
 a tyrant, and whose property should be confiscated, is the one 
 who owns land, while you do nothing' at all with the man 
 who owns Consols." 
 
 " Oh, yes, we do ; we propose to get at that gentleman 
 through the death duties," said Wilkes.- 
 
 " Yes, you have begun to try your hand in that direction, 
 but even then you have hit the landowner as hard as you 
 have the other man ; and the worst of it is that the land- 
 owner cannot run away, and the other man can.. Did you 
 ever hear the story of Mr. Jones of New York?" 
 
 " No," said Wilkes ;" what is it ?'" , ' ' , ' ' 
 
 " The othei^ day he proposed to ' Lord Rothfechild that he 
 should take ihe custody of securities valued at £800,000, 
 and collect the ihterest on them without deducting the 
 income-tax, which had been collected by the Bank' of 
 England. Eothschild replied that as long as Jones 
 remained in this country and enjoyed the protection of its 
 laws he must pay the income-tax like other pedple. Where- 
 upon Jones in great dudgeon withdrew his securities 
 from the Bank of England and froift Eothschild, and 
 transferred them to Paris, where, up to this time, they 
 have not attempted to levy income-tax upon non-French 
 subjects." 
 
 " The scoundrel ! " said Wilkes. " We shall have to tar 
 and feather some of these millionaires before we have done 
 with them." ' ' 
 
 " I wish you joy of your task," said Silvertongue. 
 
 " Come," said Sir Artegal, "it is getting late, and we must 
 break up now. I think we have pretty well arrived at an 
 agreement of what may be called the fundamental facts of ' 
 the controversy. Firstly, agricultural land in the East and 
 South of England is at the present moment valueless ; 'there- 
 fore it is the i^roperty of all others which should be taken 
 over by the nation. Secondly, -the landlord differs ffom the 
 fundholder in recognising personal obligations of neighbour- 
 hood and service to thoSe whose labour earfls the interes't on 
 his ih-vestme'nts ; therefore the landlord must be hunted 
 down as a monster. Thiidly, as English' land with the 
 present rates and taxes cannot be made to pay, even when 
 ample Capital is plabed at the disposal of the agriculturist, 
 therefore let us hand it over to the men who ha-ve no capital 
 and no skill, and let us saddle it still more with increased 
 rates and taxes." 
 
 " Well, you cannot expect me to accept that as a fair 
 summing up of our conclusions," said Wilkes. " I should rather 
 say that what we have agreed upon is that the existing 
 landed system 'has hopelessly broken down, that land which 
 in every well-governed country is a source of profit and is 
 eagerly competed for, has in England, under the present 
 management, become a drug in the market. Therefore the 
 time has come to change all that, to abolish the old system, 
 and raise up another on its ruins which will give the -virtual 
 ownership of the land to^ — " 
 
 Lord Eastwell interrupted. " To men without experience, 
 without capital, and with neither the buildings, the imple- 
 ments, nor the skill with which to cultivate the land." 
 
 " Come, come," said Milman, " you will only get vexed if 
 you carry on like this. Good-night, Wilkes, and good luck 
 to j'our candidature, despite all your heresies ! " 
 
Exit Lord Bladud. ,. 
 
 35 
 
 C'fi APT BE-IX. 
 
 EXIT LOUD BLAmJD. 
 
 ^THEL MERBIBEL'S. illness was more serious than 
 ^5)(» iEnid at first iniagined, wHen, in the. flush of friendly 
 ^* sympathy, she uffd6rtfl6k 'to%eli{Jve her, thinking 
 ■ that in the morning she would be well again. In the 
 TOurning' Ethel was far froni"wellr' When she tried to get 
 up sh^ fell rack faint and .helpless, and uttered a despairing 
 little grqah which brought- Lady ^nid to her side at once. 
 •' What can I do ? " she moaned — " what can I do ? I am 
 so weak, I cannot mbve ! " 
 
 " Never' mind," said Lady .S)nid ; " lie still for a time, 
 and you wi'l soon be better. We will get a nurse down to 
 reheve you." 
 
 "Yes," said Ethel dreamily; "but in the meantime — in 
 the meantime, what will become of them ? There is so 
 much to do, and you have no help." 
 
 Lady Jilnid, for the first time confronted by the sterner 
 duties of life, rose. unhesitatingly to the occasion. "Ethel," 
 she said finnly, ". lie still. It is simply a case of utter nervous 
 collapse with . you. I will stay here until the new nurse 
 comes. In the meantime you must be quiet and rest." 
 
 When Dr.- G-logoul came in the morning. Lady iEnid 
 to'd him with brief peremptoriness what had happened. 
 ■" Now," she said, " you have promised on your honour that 
 there will be no experiments on the patients while I am in 
 charge. Although I shall be here longer than I expected 
 when you gave me the promise, that does not matter." 
 
 The doctor bowed. "Certainly, Lady ^nid. Having 
 promised, I keep my word ; but it is a positive sin to aUow 
 andb. a beautifid chance to pass. With that lone orphan I 
 could have inoculated half the village." 
 
 " No," said .^nid, " even if there had been no other 
 objection, you have come too late. The little thing died 
 last night within an hour of its mother. They will both be 
 Iburied to day in one coffin." 
 
 " But, Lady MmA," he said, " what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I am going -to telegraph to the Sanitary Authority to send 
 down a nurse. UnKi she comes I hope you will regard me 
 as acting in Miss Merribel's place. I know I have no expe- 
 rience," she said, somewhat pathetically, " but Ethel will 
 give me general instructions, atid if. you will tell me exactly 
 what to do I will carry out your directions implicitly." 
 
 Dr. (Jlogoul was touched by the appeal for help made by 
 this strong, self-reliant young woman, and he made light of 
 difficulties which would otherwise have seemed to him 
 almost Insurmountable. 
 
 " You may rely upon me, madam," said he, " neither to 
 vivisect my patients nor to neglect the instruction of their 
 murse. I hope," said he, with a little laugh, "that the 
 virtue of the latter part of the promise will atone for the sin 
 of the former. For a doctor to neglect to practise experi- 
 ments upon his patients is to be false to the first duty he 
 owes to medical science." 
 
 " I know nothing of science," said ^Enid simply, " But 
 there must be no vivisection while I am here ; and now will 
 vou take me round and tell me exactly what to do." 
 
 So matters were arranged, and Lady Mnii took charge 
 of the temporary hospital at Grarlam. It was not found so 
 «asy a matter to provide a substitute for Ethel Merribel. 
 The Rural Sanitary Authority was slow to realise that their 
 nurse had brokea down, and adjourned the question till the 
 next meeting of the Board. Meanwhile Lady .ffinid became 
 more and more engrossed in the work of the hospital. 
 
 "Ethel dear," sh'e said one night, when sitting by the 
 bedside of her friend,. " you have n6 idea how interesting I 
 find this nursing. I think there is a great deal of the 
 bunter in my blaxi. F;-om the time of the Conqviest down 
 
 to the Repeal df the 'Corri' Lawfs,th6 mile Belgovers at least 
 hajre' spent a third of their life in the pursuit of, game. 
 When ,su,ch a .habit is persisted in for centuries, the taste 
 seems to be wrought into your very bones, and you. get to 
 look at everything more, or less fr'oni the point of view of the 
 hunter." 
 
 "Really," said Ethel, somewhat drowsily, "I do not 
 understand what you are driving at." r 
 
 " Well," said Lady Jinid, " I feel as if you' and I and 
 Dr. Glogoul were three hunters stalking wild beasts. All 
 the diseases of our patients present themselves to me as 
 wolves and beard and tigej'S and other : carnivorous beasts. 
 They are prowling all around us,, watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to strike us down, while \\ e, on our part,, are con- 
 stantly endeavouring tu drive them away from the prey 
 which they have already seized. How tarne; deerstalking 
 seems to me beside fever-stalking! It is what- ?ub-hunting 
 is to tiger-shooting. This hospital sport becomes ' all- 
 engrossing. It possesses every element of romanb^. ' Tjigre 
 is personal danger, there is the need for constant vigilance, 
 and thete is the great rewaid of possible success.' I fefel as 
 proud of every patient who goes out of the hospital cur.ed as 
 ray father did when he brought in the great elk's., head 
 which he had shot in the Far West." 
 
 "Yes," said Ethel, faiily roused, her eyes glistening 'with 
 'excitement, " I have never quite looked at it in the light of. 
 a hunt. I dare say }-ou will get mere spcrt out of it than I 
 should. But I also visualise diseases. To me they seem to 
 be unclean spirits,, and, as I go round the ward at jo.ight 
 when everything is silent, save the moan of a p'atient.or 
 the muttering of the delirious, I see the diseases, like shadowy 
 spectral vampires, draining the lifeblood of the poor .people or 
 stifling their breath. Twenty, beds in. , a ward, and every 
 bed occupied ; in every bed beside eve;y patient there are 
 these loathsome things. Ah ! how I h^ve often longed for 
 the power of some ancient saint, by which I would, mak« the 
 sign of the cross, and compel all these phantpms to flee 
 away and leave their victims at rest. But charms don't Work 
 nowadays. It is a life and death combat between UB and 
 these powers of evil. That text has often come to my tired 
 brain while I have been lying here helpless : ' For we wrestle 
 not with flesh and blood, but against principalities and 
 powers, against the rulers of darkness of this world, against 
 spiritual wickedness in higli places.' " 
 
 " Oh," said JSJnid cheerily, in her practical matter-of-fact 
 way, " I am not mystical like you, but it is a constant exhilara- 
 tixDn to regard this Garlam as a kind of Indian jungle full of 
 all kinds of fierce beasts which we are stalking, Dr. Glogoul 
 aud I. Sometimes they get the better of us, but oftener we 
 get the better of them. And what tricks they play, these 
 maladies. I declare they are as cunning as the cleverest old 
 dog-fox that ever baffled the hounds in the hunting-field." 
 
 " I never can imderstand the difference," said Ethel, 
 " which you make between the spiritual and the material 
 woi'ld. I suppose it is because you don't see the things 
 which I see. They are all real to me ; and it is not the so- 
 called invisible which are the worst. By the way," said 
 she, " did you hear whether the Earl of Bladud took any 
 notice of the death of his little child and its mother ? " 
 
 " Not the least," said iEnid. " I got Dr. Glogoul to write 
 to Sloane Hall and report the death of the girl and her child, . 
 but no notice was taken of the letter." 
 
 " I suppose," said Ethel, " he is having one of his drinking 
 . bouts, or possibly enough he may be in London. Not that 
 he would care, anyhow. It is he and Mr. Faulmann who 
 seem to me to be so much worse than all the diseases which 
 we have to keep at bay. They seem to dwell in the 
 hospital, the lords of the unclean spirits who torture and 
 slay according to their sovereign will and pleasure." 
 
36 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 "Did you (sver see Lord Bladud?" said .Enid. 
 
 " I have never met him in flesh and blood, and pray Grod 
 I never shall. He is not the kind of man any woman would 
 care to meet." 
 
 " I don't know," said Lady .Enid ; " the same instinct 
 which leads you 
 to go in a haw- 
 dah when the 
 elephants are beat- 
 ing the jungle for 
 tigers, miikes me 
 feel that I should 
 rather like to see 
 this Lord. Bladud. 
 It is not likely 
 chat he would do 
 me any harm." 
 
 The day after 
 this conversation - 
 Ethel had re- 
 covered suffici- 
 ently lo- insist on 
 ^Enid taking a 
 couple' Of hours 
 relief fropa nurs- 
 ing. She had been 
 a ' week . in the 
 hospital without 
 having had a- 
 breath of frfeshair, 
 an'd the confine- 
 ment and un- 
 acCustdmed wort 
 had told upon her 
 considerably. She 
 was looking a 
 little haggard, so 
 in' the evening 
 Ethel insisted 
 upon her taking 
 a long run on her 
 bicycle^ jn the 
 moonlight. Satis- 
 fi^d- that'thfi 
 parttents were 
 sleeping quietly, 
 anii that her friend 
 was well enough 
 to stan^ two hours' 
 vigil, Lady jEnid 
 mounted, her cycle 
 and rode off into 
 the country; J 
 
 Down in the 
 village she could 
 see the lights, of 
 the," Green Man," 
 at the 'door of 
 which soThe loafers 
 
 were, standing, but with that exception the streets of the little 
 town were deserted. The moon was bright, the road fairly 
 gocd, and'there was no wind. Very sunn, Lady .Enid had 
 left the squalidlittle town behind her, and was rushing along 
 between the high hedges which lined either side of the road, 
 and. whose shadows' marbled the mnonlight on the ground 
 before her wheeU' Lady .Enid went in the direction of 
 Coleford, determined to have a nde i>f about twenty miles. 
 
 Presently she saw the lights of Sloane away in 
 
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 HHH^^^I;-.-, 
 
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 t^i^ 
 
 •:g^ 
 
 
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 ^pi 
 
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 ^y.^,. 
 
 '^^■' 
 
 l^p*""^^. fe^- 
 
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 ^},S„iiitaiik 
 
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 W[ , 
 
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 W: 
 
 V. ■^^^ 
 
 r* 4^V', "^..'V-^^i'' 
 
 Nli,\KEB AXU NE.^RER HE CAME TO THE KEYING GIRL. 
 
 tlie west. The gas-lamps on the outskirts of the town 
 appeared like pin-hole.s of light against the darkness. She 
 then turned to the north, along the main road, which led to 
 Sloane Hall. Slie slackened her pace and was dreamily 
 peilalling along, thinking of the strange experiences of the 
 
 last fortnight, 
 when she was 
 suddenly startled 
 by the sound of 
 horses' hoofs not 
 far beliind her. 
 
 Looking back 
 along the road she 
 saw four or five 
 men following at 
 a smart trot. 
 They were appa- 
 rently market- 
 merry, or worse, 
 for they were 
 shouting and 
 swearing and 
 laughing loudly. 
 It was — although 
 Lady .Enid did 
 not know till some 
 time after —Lord 
 Bladud and some 
 of his boon com- 
 panions, who had 
 been out hunting, 
 and having dined 
 and wined at 
 Coleford, were now 
 returning to Sloane 
 Hall. For a mo- 
 ment jEnid felt 
 the awkwardness 
 of her position. 
 Here she was, 
 alone in the 
 country roads, it 
 was almost mid- 
 night, and within 
 a hundred yards, 
 of her was a party 
 of drunken horse- 
 men. Her only 
 chance was to out- 
 distance them by 
 her superior speed. 
 Slie silently in- 
 creased her pace, 
 hoping to gain a 
 turn in the road 
 before they no- 
 ticed her, in 
 which case she 
 could easily out- 
 distance them, 
 as they were only coming along a'^ a trot. 
 
 Unfortunately, the moon was shining very brightly in n 
 cloudless sky. The foremost horseman spied her, and gave 
 vent to a wild yell. " Tally-ho ! " he shouted, " Tally-ho ! "' 
 and spurring up his h(.irse he came galloping down the road, 
 followed by his companions, shouting drunken curses as 
 they came thundering behind her. Lady yEnid sent her 
 cycle forging aheaii at its utmost s]ieed. Fortunately, after 
 two or three hundred yards the road began to descend, and 
 
THE DEATH OF LOBD BLADPD. 
 
33 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 d-ojiped by a vretty steep decline into tlie valley below. 
 The road was clear and free from loose stones. Down such 
 a hill a bicyclist can go at a rate which no prudent horseman 
 can follow. Lady ^nid, without pausing for a moment, 
 dashed down the hiU. 
 
 By the time she had reached the bottom of it she 
 had gained a clear lead of several hundred yards. Rested 
 by the momentary relief from constant pedalling, she shot 
 forward with renewed vigour. But it was evident that her 
 pursuers found the chase of a flying cyclist quite as 
 exciting as a fox-hunt. As soon as they reached the level 
 ground they began to gain upon her. One of the men, mounted 
 on a hght chestnut, led the others by at least a couple of 
 hundred yards. His horse was either fresher or its I'ider 
 was not so drunk as his companions. 
 
 Nearer and nearer he came to the flying girl. 
 
 She had a moment's horrible consciousness that he would 
 ride her down, and then she suddenly became perfectly calm. 
 She was flying along the level road with the horse hardl_y 
 a length behind her. The rider swerved slightly to the right 
 to pass her and then compel her to stop. Stooping down. 
 Lady ^nid unfastened the clasps of her air-pump, and 
 the moment the horse's head came level with the seat, she 
 struck the animal with all her force across the nose. As 
 she struck she almost reeled over, but the speed with which 
 her cycle was going enabled her to regain her balance before 
 she dashed into the ditch on the other side of the road. As 
 she did so she saw that her blow had succeeded bsyond h6r 
 hopes. 
 
 The horse, on receiving the blow, had shied violently to 
 the right, falling into a deep ditch and throwing its rider 
 into a mass of briars and b; ambles, from which-, with 
 imprecations deep and loud, he was endeavouring to 
 extricate himself. She had only time for a momentary 
 glance, as the other horsemen, paying no attention to the 
 mishap of their companion, came galloping after her. She 
 had dropped her air-pump in the effort to recover her 
 balance, and was now without that resource. 
 
 Although they gained upon her, it was but slowly, and 
 judging from the sound of the hoofs one had abandoned the 
 chase. The third horseman, she thought, must have gone 
 back to the aid of his dismounted companion. The second 
 horseman, too, began to lag behind. Not even the excite- 
 ment of the chase could prevent her from feeling that her 
 strength was giving out, and the labouring of her- breath 
 warned her that if the struggle Ijetween horse and cyclist 
 were prolonged much longer she would be at the mercy of 
 her pursuer. Hot as she was, a cold shudder came over her 
 as she thought of this eventuality, and of all that it might 
 mean. 
 
 Suddenl}'' she saw a man ahead. Another glance, and she 
 saw he was carrying a red flag, a sigu that he was preceding 
 a traction-engine, to give warning to approaching vehicles. 
 The pufSng of the engine was heard round the turn 
 of the road, which was bordered on either side with sloping 
 hanks. For a moment she thought of stopping and appealing 
 to the man with the red flag for help, but at the rate at 
 which she was going she could not hope to dismount until 
 she, was carried considerably beyond him, and her pursuer 
 would by that time have her in his grasp, regardless 
 of what any dismounted man might attempt in the way 
 of rescue. 
 
 So she went on with a kind of wild despair. The man with 
 the red flag waved it frantically, and shouted, but neither 
 she nor her^^pursuer paid any attention. On they went, the 
 bicycle about' twenty yards in front of the hunter. As 
 liady .iBnid swung round ^the corner she saw, the lights of 
 tne traction-engine wTiich "apparently blocked' up the whole 
 of the road. More by instinct than by calculation, she 
 
 swerved to the left, and attempted to force her w.iy between 
 the sloping bank and the wheel of the engine. 
 
 She passed the front wheel all right by riding through 
 the little ditch at the side of the road. But to pass the 
 second wheel she had to mount the side of the slope. It 
 was a desperate chance, for as the cycle rose on the bank it 
 was almost certain to fall. Still, there was no otheir way of 
 escape, and she dashed at it. The pedal revolved once, 
 twice, and carried her just past the engine. Then the front 
 wheel slipped, her pedal caught in a briar, and Lady .^nid 
 had barely time to spring froiu her machine before it fell 
 heavily into a ditch. 
 
 All this happened in a much shorter time than it takes to 
 describe it. She jiuUed the machine from the ditch, and in 
 the mad passion to escape mounted and rode off without a 
 moment's pause. Her machine was damaged, but on, on, she 
 went. 
 
 She rode more than a mile along the road 'before it 
 occurred to ' her that there was no longer any pm-suit. She 
 could neither hear the clatter of horses' feet nor the 
 snorting of the traction-engine. , But still she rode on, and 
 'it was not until she had covered another three or four miles 
 that she discovered that she had punctured her hind wheel, 
 and that almost all the air had escaped. She had lost her 
 air-pump, and so there was nothing for it but to get off and 
 walk the remainder of the way to G-arlam. Fortunately it 
 was not very far distant. She could see the glimmering of 
 the light on the lightship which lay off Garlam three or four 
 miles ahead. 
 
 It was almost two o'clock when she arrived at the hospital. 
 By that time she had recovered from her fright and from her 
 exhaustion. She was able to reassure Ethel, who had been 
 very anxious at the excessive prolongation of the midnight 
 ridej with the explanation of the punctured tyre and the lost 
 air-pump, which were sufficient to account for her delay. 
 She easily persuaded Ethel Merribel to go to bed, and 
 resumed her post as night nurse. 
 
 About the same time that she resumed her duties at the 
 hospital, two men were carrying on an improvised stretcher 
 the ■ mangled remains of the Earl of Bladud up the 
 avenue which led to Sloane Hall. Lord Bladud had 
 been drinking heavily, and being moreover somewhat 
 heavier than his companions, he had fallen behind in 
 the race with the cyclist. But when his companion had 
 been flung, he took the lead in the race with the dogged 
 pertinacity of his character, and was steadily and speedily 
 overhauling his flying game when the traction-engine 
 blocked the way. He was too keen in pursuit of his prey 
 to draw rein, even if he had been aware of his danger, which 
 he was not. Hence he galloped full speed round the curve, 
 and his horse, on seeing the lamps of the traction-engine, 
 halted so suddenly that the Earl was flung from his saddle 
 right under the wheel of the lumbering monster. The 
 driver shut off the steam and reversed the engine, but it was 
 impossible to bring it to a standstill before the heavy wheel 
 had, crushed Lord Bladud's skull level with the road. It 
 was all over in a moment. Lord Bladud's horse galloped 
 riderless homeward. As for Lord Bladud himself, he also 
 had gone to his own place. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE E APICAL CAMPAIGN. 
 
 1^ OW it fell out upon a day, the very day after the 
 
 fy birthday-party at the "Radical Arms," that a 
 
 ' ^ mustering of discontents took place at the Temperance 
 
 Hotel, where the wi*thy 'Brassy- held council with 
 
 his cronies about the prospects of the election. 
 
The Radical Campaigi^. 
 
 39 
 
 " I don't like it," said Brassy ; " my suspicion is tliat we are 
 being sold. Wilkes, they said, was the man for our money. 
 Wilkes, they said, would gp as far as anj' of us ; but, con- 
 found it, he is. a stuckTup snob who will hardly speak to an 
 honest working-man like toe." 
 
 "Why," said Bob Greenaci#, whose features were 
 picturesquely decorated with a long strip of plaster, covering 
 a gash he had received recently in a poaching affray, 
 " thoU'rt gettiiig mighty pertickler, old man. This 'erj 
 , Wilkes be as thorough as they make 'em, and iny cousin 
 who Svorks ia tjle printing-house where they are striking off 
 his address, says it's real stingo and no mistake. He makes 
 " 'em sit up, hBido." 
 
 . _" Oh, writing's,; one thing," said Brassy, " but doing's 
 another. We don't want any of your blooming snobs coming 
 round h,ere hobnobbing with duchesses, and then standing as 
 a regular Deinocrat. It won't 
 do, boys — it won't do." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" , 
 asked, BilLDawkins, who" was 
 .sitting on the table, filling a 
 very, dirty pipe with twist 
 tobacco. . " Who's been hob- 
 nobbing with ■ duchesses ? I ' 
 don't" believe" it on him, no, 
 not if you say it ypuj'self, 
 Joe Brassy." 
 
 " Don't you,"- said Brass^-; . 
 " and what woivld you say if 
 no later than last night this 
 precious Radical candidate of 
 ours had a birthday party at 
 the ' Eadical Arms ' ; and who 
 do you think he invited? 
 Why, a set of aristocrats 
 frond the West-end of Lon- 
 don, that snivelling "peer. Lord? 
 Eastwell, being the chief of 
 the" party." 
 
 Bill DawkiDs seemed to 
 adrnit that this looked ugly, 
 so he said no iiiore. 
 
 " But a lord ain't a duchess," 
 said Greenacres; "yoii don't 
 mean to say he has been up 
 at Eastland ? That would be 
 top much." 
 
 " Why," said Brassy, with ' 
 a malignant ' scowl on his 
 unprepossessing features, " I 
 
 don't say he has . been at Eastland, but I do say on 
 unimpeachable authority that this 'ere blessed Eadical 
 candidate of &u;s actually arrived in this 'ere town, of Eigby 
 in a castle carriage." 
 
 " That he didn't," said Dawkins, recovering himself, " for 
 ■ I seed him mesel' geitting out of an old cab at the ' Eadical 
 Arms.'" ''■'•■:' ■' 
 
 " Which is true," said another, " for I *as downstairs 
 having a pint at the bar when T seed him being carried 
 in. It was a cab, I tell you — Jim Ostler's cab; for when 
 ■Jim had' gtft his "fare he came and joined me ,in another 
 pint." .... - , . . 
 
 "And whp says no," said Brassy.- "I didn't say 
 that he came td ,the 'Eadical Arms' in a castle car- 
 riage. Np, a conspirator and a traitor ' don't ■ play such 
 a game so openly. But nOw as- you- have mentioned 
 Jim Ostler; I will 'tell you -that -it was' Jiin himself 
 ,-\yh6 saw Wilkes get' out of -the' carriage -which set hi-m 
 do-wn at -the Cab-stand at the . entrance of the town, 
 
 THE RADICAL CANDIDATE. 
 
 and if ye doubt my word, Dawkins, you can go and ask 
 yei- friend." 
 
 After this Dawkins ventured no further protest, and 
 Brassy had it all his own way. "We are in for it, how- 
 ever," he said, " and we have to fight with this here Wilkes 
 or with nobody ; but he's not a gamecock, he's a craven. 
 I'll put none of my money on him, anyhow. It will 
 surprise hae if at the meeting to-morrow night,, which is to 
 open the campaign, he will say so much a? a' hot word about 
 his friends at the castle. However, we will all turn up and 
 draw our own conclusions." 
 
 The Sadiqal campaign was to be gpened the following 
 evening by a large meeting in the town ball of Eigby. The 
 word haij. been passed round by Mr. Wirham among the 
 Conservatives that on no account was a,ny attempt to be 
 made to break up the meeting. ' That' sagacious agent 
 had not been in Eigby many 
 hours ■ before he discove.ed 
 that, the. true policy -vy.as to 
 lie low, and allow the hetero- 
 geneous forces of discontent 
 to develop their differences 
 free from .all menace from. 
 wi thout. 
 
 Mr. Wilkes was in '.blissful 
 ignorance of the n^jutterings of" 
 "discontent: at the Brassy head- 
 quarters. He had "draWn up- 
 an electoral address which, as. 
 G-reeiiacres had described, was 
 "real stingo." In it he had 
 ^riiug the changes upon alll the- 
 notes of Eadical ojatory. It, 
 was, an impassioned appeal to 
 the millions to rise up in^their- 
 might and possess themselves 
 of the acres now monopolised 
 by aristocrats whose title- 
 deeds, obtained by fi-aUd and 
 violence, were besmeared with 
 the people's blood. The ad- 
 dress concluded with a glow- 
 ing picture, of . the time that 
 was ciiming,, when the landed 
 aristocracy would, have van- 
 ished' , into 'limbo, and the 
 whole, country would be 
 'covered, with small cultiva- 
 tors, under whose spades the. 
 derelict : land of Blankshire- 
 would bloom as a garden and blossom a,s the rose. 
 
 Wilkes, who had penned this address with great care,, 
 regarded it -with the affection of a mother for her -first-born. 
 He was particularly pleased with the reference to the derelict- 
 farms. He stole out in the evening and .joined as an un- 
 known, stranger a group of Eigby citizens who wesre studying 
 the address as it was displayed outside the " Eadical Arms." 
 They read it without much conament beyond, an occasional 
 gruot; but when they came to the end, a roiigh-looking 
 labourer somewhat disconcerted Wilkes by observing, " If 
 that chap had a try with a spade on the clay lands of 
 Blankshire, he wouldn't be so glib with his gardens and 
 roses, I reckon, eh, Bill? " 
 
 Bill had not quite finished thepei:usal of the address,- and 
 made no answer. When he had .finished he turned on his 
 heel and said, " Aye, but you can't expect townfolk toknow 
 aught about land." . . ., ;■ 
 This was OQotvery comforting .- , f, S.- 
 Wilkes's satisfaction was still further damped the foEowing 
 
40 
 
 The Spi^endid Paupers. 
 
 morning by receiving a brief, business-like letter, wliich ran 
 as follows : — 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have read your address to the electors of Blank- 
 sliire. I am at the present moment the unfortunate owner of 
 several of the derelict farms to which you refer with so much 
 feeling. As I tnko you to be a m .n of your word and to 
 believe what you say, I would very gladly offer you one of 
 these farms as a free gift. You can have one hundred, two 
 hundred, or three hundred acres, as you please. All that I 
 ask is that you will pay me the present cash value of the farm 
 buildings and other improvem nts, in which I have sunk a 
 pretty penny in the last thirty years. I shall be very glad to 
 show you the land' at any time, and if you have among your 
 friends any labourers whom you think can be trusted to turn 
 any of these farms into a garden by spade cultuie, the land is 
 at your disposal, free gratis and for nothing. 
 
 The letter was signed by one of the smaller landowners in 
 the neighbourhood. When Hopton, who was completing the 
 arrangements for the evening meeting, and who had taken a 
 day ofif for the purpose, looked in, Wilkes was reading the 
 letter for the second time. He threw it over to Hopton and 
 a.sked him what he thought of it. Hopton read it, and 
 then said, " Don't you wish you might get it ! They must 
 think that you are very green." 
 "Why? "asked Wilkes. 
 
 " Why, to think that any sane man would take a farm as 
 a free gift if he had to pay for the buildings. Why, there 
 is hardly a farm in Blankshire that is paying interest on 
 landlord's capital sunk in buildings or improvements — hardly 
 one. Well, I never," continued he, " but he must think 
 town people are very green." 
 
 Wilkes said no more, but asked what were the prospects 
 for the meeting. 
 
 "I know," said Hopton, "there will be no opposition, so 
 
 you will have it all your own way to-night. But " 
 
 " But, what ? " said Wilkes, looking at him. 
 " Well, I hardly like mentioning it, but as you have 
 asked me, I will tell you. Some of my friends have been 
 talking rather curiously about your being an aristocrat in 
 ■disguise." 
 
 " Eeally," said Wilkes, somewhat interested to know on 
 what the accusation was based. 
 
 " Well," said Hopton hesitatingly, " that you have 
 been dining with lords and driving in carriages with 
 -duchesses." 
 
 Wilkes smiled, and Hopton went on, "And they say, 
 moreover, that the orders which have been given from the 
 -Conservative Club not to disturb the meeting are a clear 
 proof they are right in their suspicions. The Radicals of 
 Rigby have never been allowed to hold a meeting without 
 broken heads. There must be a reason, some of our people 
 are saying, that they should have made an exception in 
 your favour." 
 
 " What drivelling nonsense ! " said the young man. " But 
 we will let them see." 
 
 "I hope so," said Hopton cheerfully, and departed to 
 complete the arrangements for the meeting. 
 
 It went off very well. The Conservatives had obeyed orders 
 from headquarters. Wilkes made a very good impression. Ha 
 was young, eloquent, earnest, enthusiastic, and at the close of 
 the meeting a vote accepting him as the Radical candidate 
 was passed with acclamation. But after the meeting was 
 over Brassy observed significantly to Grreenacres as they 
 -walked down to the Temperance Hotel (where more beer 
 was drunk than in many a beershop) : " Didn't I teU you ? 
 Never a word against the Duke, not a single word, only 
 comphments, as if we wanted a Radical candidate to coijie 
 here and compliment Tory dukes. He soon showed the 
 cloven hoof." 
 
 "Why," said Grreenacres, "I thought his speech had a 
 good ring in it. No one said a word agin 'im." 
 
 " Grreenacres," said Brassy, " thou'rt a fool. Wbo was to 
 say a word against him ? But mark my words, he won't be 
 a week in the field before there will be a split in the camp." 
 Saying which, Brassy turned into his hotel, meditating 
 moodily over the disappointment of his hopes. What vexed 
 him most of all were not the compliments to the Duke, 
 which it must be admitted were of the most perfunctory 
 nature, but the ferocious attack which the candidate had 
 made upon the owners of slum property. Brassy had not 
 bargained for this, and he saw with disgust, from the cheers 
 which greeted this portion of the candidate's speech, the 
 ■ begrnniug of an agitation which boded him no good. 
 
 Wilkes was in high spirits. Hopton, to whom the success 
 of the meeting was largely due, -was also very weU satisfied ; 
 and the minister, when he retired to his room that night for 
 prayer, thanked Grod with exultant heart that at last a young 
 David had been raised up to smite with sling and stone the 
 Goliath of landlordism. The campaign which had been 
 opened at Rigby was to be prosecuted at Coleford, which 
 was the centre of the division, by a meeting to be held in 
 the Corn Exchange. It was to be presided over by Mr, 
 Faulmann, the president of the Liberal Association, who 
 had been unavoidably prevented from taking the chair at 
 the Rigby meeting. 
 
 Wilkes, who was accompanied by Hopton, Brown, and a 
 contingent of Rigby Radicals, dined before the meeting with 
 Mr. Faulmann at the " Boar's Head." Among the members of 
 the Radical executive Wilkes saw Brassy, but ignored him. 
 When he shook hands with Mr. Faulmann his heart some- 
 what sank within him! He was in the presence of a mail 
 of great force of character, with keen dark eyes which 
 seemed never to be at rest. There was the soul of a Jew 
 behind the mask of the Teuton — a powerful combipation, 
 Wilkes thought. But there was in his somewhat passive 
 and sphinxlike features a negative element which chilled 
 and repelled him. His hand was cold, and there was no 
 grasp in it. In conversation at dinner Wilkes found him 
 somewhat reserved, but apparently well informed as to the 
 business of the association. His utterances were cold but 
 clear, and no one could have been more devoid of enthu- 
 siasm. Wilkes felt an instinctive repugnance to the chair- 
 man of his committee, and kept marvelling at the strange 
 chance which had brought him into close political alliance 
 with one towards whom he was utterly antipathetic. 
 
 The meeting in the Corn Exchange was crowded and 
 enthusiastic. The same tactics were employed by the 
 Conservatives at Coleford as had been used at Rigby. 
 There was a great muster of all the Radical elements in 
 Blankshire. Conspicuous on the platform was the Rev. 
 Jedediah Jones, the Methodist tub-thumper whose invec- 
 tives against the Earl of Bladud had been mentioned by 
 Mr. Holdem. There were several Dissenting ministers, a 
 great muster of trade unionists and of agricultural labourers, 
 several Radical shopkeepers, and a large contingent of ladies. 
 On the whole, it was a good gathering of the elements of 
 revolt which exist more or less in every English- county, 
 and seeing that the division had never been contested in the 
 present generation, it is not surprising that the mere novelty 
 of the gathering brought together a large and interested 
 crowd. 
 
 As the crowd was gathering at the doors of the Corn 
 Exchange, a rumour ran from mouth to mouth that there 
 had been a terrible accident, and that the Earl of Bladud 
 had been killed. No details were given, but the news was 
 confidently repeated. The death of a leading opponent 
 added a certain tragic interest to the assembly. The news, 
 however, had not been published, and apparently no whisper 
 
The Radical Campaign. 
 
 41 
 
 of it had reached the platform, for when the Eev. Jedediah 
 Jones opened the meeting with prayer he did not omit a 
 single syllable of his impassioned appeal to the Lord of 
 Hosts to avenge the innocent and " to smite ■ the oppressor, 
 which all iis hearers knew had reference to the evil earl of 
 ' Sloane Hall. • 
 
 A suppressed hush ran through one part of the hall, but it 
 passed unnoticed, and Mr. Faulmann arose amid prolonged 
 cheering to introduce the candidate. 
 
 He spoke with precision and with a slightly foreign accent. 
 He said they in !^lankshire had groaned long under the 
 dominion of the territorial aristpcraoy. .Under their baneful 
 rule the bread of the people had been taxed, the liberties of 
 the people had been confiscated; and under the influence of 
 the same upas tree the prosperity of the county was languish- 
 , ing.- . The land must be . freed. They were there to 
 inaugurate a struggle for the rights ,pf man, to assert the 
 obligations of property, and to declare that where these 
 obligations had been neglected and ignored, the rights of 
 property were forfeit to the sovereign people. 
 
 Mr. Brassy,'who acted as fugleman, cheered and cheered 
 again this declaration of war against the Duke. 
 
 Mr. Faulmann then proceeded to introduce the candidate 
 to those whom before long he hoped would be his constitu- 
 ents. He said he was a young man, but a true man, whose 
 principles could be relied upon, and who would go straight 
 for the people wherever their' interests led him. 
 
 When Mr. Wilkes rose to speak, and looked down upon 
 the crowded meeting, which had risen to its feet, and was 
 cheering him vociferously, he .suddenly caught sight pf a 
 familiar face which startled him not a little. It was that of 
 a young lady who was sitting almost immediately in front 
 of him, and who was contemplating the scene with an 
 amused interest. He recognised the face in a moment, but 
 could not reroember its owner. It was not until he had 
 gone through the first sentences of his gpeech that it flashed 
 upon him that it was the cyclist who. had rewarded him for 
 saving her life by spraining his knee, and whose subsequent 
 kindly offlces had given rise to an incipient revolt among 
 the Eadicals of Eigby. He felt pleased that she should 
 have come to his meeting, and the consciousness of her 
 presence inspired him to put forth all his powers. " She 
 shall see," he thought to himself, "that although I am a 
 Eadical and a Socialist, I can be a gentleman, and treat my 
 opponents with as much chivalry as if I had belonged to 
 their own order." 
 
 Accordingly, he began his speech by disclaiming any 
 intention of making a personal attack upon the territorial 
 magnates whose domain he had invaded as the representa- 
 tive of the people's rights. There were landlords and 
 landlords. They were men of like passipns with themselves, 
 and he had not come to the county to carry on a campaign 
 of personalities. Brassy nudged Dawkins (who was sitting 
 next to him) in the ribs, but said nothing. 
 
 " In the county of Blankshire," Wilkes continued, ".they 
 had the Duke of Eastland, an honourable and upright 
 nobleman " — " Did I not tell you ? " growled Brassy-^" who 
 was bearing to the best of his ability, and discharging 
 according to his lights, the onerous responsibilities which he 
 had inherited from his forefathers. Of the other peer, the 
 Earl of Bladud, he could hardly speak in similar ternis, 
 ■ but-^— ^" 
 
 " ■ At this moment, a taD, gaunt countryman, who w:as 
 -standing beside one of the pillars in the centre of ;he hall, 
 • eiclaimed, "Young man, say no ill of the dead^ Lord Bladiid 
 
 (liecliast night." ■ - '•' 
 
 — 'A' profound sensation thrilled the crowded audience, not 
 
 one-third of which had heard the rumour of Lord Bladud's 
 death. 
 
 Mr. Wilkes abruptly stopped, and said, " I had not h'eard 
 the news, but it only" adds another reason to those which^ I 
 was about to mention as to why I should keep silent cofa- 
 cerning the deceased earl." 
 
 Having thus, in his most courtly manner, shaken hands with 
 his opponents on entering the political jing, he proceeded-to 
 show fight in the approved style. Possessed of a vivid imagina- 
 tion, Mr. Wilkes warmed up the audience, which for years 
 had never heard the existing system roughly handled, except 
 with bated breath and whispering humbleness. Even Bill 
 Dawkins plucked up courage to whisper to Brassy that 
 " He's ■ agoin' it, isn't he ? " to which the only response was 
 a growl. 
 
 He devoted the greater part of his speech to a denunciation 
 of the landed system and of the ascendency of the territorial 
 magnates. He merely referred in a few sentences to such 
 political issues as Home Eule, Employers' Liability, and the 
 Welsh Church, all of which he seemed to think were only 
 of importance as they helped out the indictment of the 
 Lords. But when he came to the exordium, he declared 
 that his candidature was no personal matter, — ^it was a means 
 by which the great democracy was going to break down the 
 system which had so • long cursed the land in order to 
 establish on the ruins of an effete social system the social 
 millennium. 
 
 " Eemember," he said, in warning tones, " that our 
 foes are many and strong. If we had merely to deal with 
 the mediaeval and bankrupt peers who are perishing, 
 stifled by the mortgages iiicurred by their extravagance, 
 and smothered by the unpaid bills of their unfortunate 
 tradesmen, we could win the battle almost without a fight. 
 But behind the battered and broken ranks of landlordism we 
 can see rallying already to their support the serried legions 
 of plutocracy. Behind the peer stands the sweater ; behind 
 the landlord, whose broad acres are. lying desolate as the 
 result of the banishment of the people from the soil, 
 stand the owners of slum property, the jerry-builders, and aU. 
 the unclean crew who are heaping up wealth by poisoning 
 the life and ruining the health of the people.". 
 
 It was now Dawkins's turn to nudge Brassy in the ribs. 
 " One for thee, old man, I reckon ! " said he. 
 
 " Hold your mouth," said Brassy savagely. " Did I not 
 tell you he was a traitor in the camp ! " 
 
 " Nay, but he speaks true," said Dawkins. 
 
 Mr. Wilkes' peroration, which brought down the house in 
 a tumult of applause, was an impassioned invitation to all 
 the oppressed and down-trodden people to rally round the 
 standard of liberty and reform and follow his lead against 
 the enemies of the people. " I am not rich or famous, 
 neither do I own a single acre in this country. I have 
 nothing to oflfer you but the devotion of a heart and a life 
 that is dedicated to the service of the people. Far before 
 us gleam the camp fires of the vanguard of the hosts of 
 liberty ; I follow where they lead. They are already on the 
 point of triumphing over the broken and helpless forces of 
 those splendid paupers, our territorial peersj but the real 
 struggle of the future will be with the cruel and grasping 
 hordes of that capitalism which ruthlessly exploits the laboui 
 of those who fill its coffers, and' is already rearing a mort 
 hateful tyranny upon the ruins of the territorial aristocracy. 
 In that struggle you may at least depend upon me not 
 to falter, not to flinch. Whoever goes back," said he 
 proudly, " I at least press on !," 
 
 When he sat down, and iis audience had also resumed 
 their seats, among all the confused crowd of faces aroijnd 
 him he distinguished", only two. One was that of Lady 
 .^nid, who seemed to be carried away by the enthusiasm of 
 
42 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 the meeting. Tlie other was that of his chairman, who, 
 somehow or other, did not seem particularly happy. 
 
 One or two other speeches followed, and then the chairman 
 said, " I am teld that there is some one here who can give 
 us some information concerning the sudden death of Lord 
 Bladud. As we are all near neighbours and interested in 
 the news-, will he come forward and tell the meeting what 
 he knows ? " 
 
 A sturdy, stout little man came forward with difficulty 
 through the crowd and mounted the platform. He was 
 evidently labouring under the influence of deep feeling. As 
 he passed on to the platform. Lady ^Enid thought she had 
 seen the face before; but the impression was vague, and 
 she could not connect it with any definite time or place. 
 
 She had come over to Coleford with Ethel Merribel. The 
 relief nurse had arrived, and Lady ^Euid had driven Ethel 
 over to Coleford on her way home. When her friend had 
 been carefully put to bed at the "Boar's Head," Lady jEnid, 
 finding that Wilkes had to speak at; the Corn. Exchange, and 
 that this afforded her an opportunity of hearing him speak 
 without being recognised herself, she had joined the crowd, 
 and found herself seated immediately in front of the plat- 
 form, where Mr. Wilkes had seen her as soon as he rose to 
 speak. She had. no idea as to the tragic sequel of her 
 adventurous midnight ride, nor had she the least idea as to 
 who they were who had hunted her so savagely a few hours 
 before. The whole incident was to her niore like a night- 
 . mare memory than an actual occurrence. It was only when 
 the man begaii to speak that she suddenly linked on her 
 own experience with the story which he told. , 
 
 "I am no scholar, and not much of a speaker," said the 
 man, as soon as he was hoisted upon the platform ; " but so 
 be as, the chairman asks me ^o teU what I know, I will do 
 my best. It was last night, in bright moonliglit, that, I and 
 my mate that drives tte .traction-engine was, conilng aloiig 
 the main road through the cutting which lies between. Sloane 
 Hall and Garlam." , , , 
 
 Lady Mnii started, and in a moment remembered wliere 
 she had seen the man. He was the man who had waved the 
 red flag in order to announce the approach of the engine. 
 
 " We were coming along," the man. continued, " at our 
 usual pace, when suddeiily I see a bright light coming down 
 the road as swift as lightning, and behind I hears the, clatter 
 of horses' hoofs and some shouting. I ivaved my flagand 
 shouted, but before I had time to say two words the light 
 flashed by me, and a bicyclist passed me riding as for dear 
 life. He was by me in a flash and round the comer, and 
 how he got past the engine I don't know. My mate saw 
 the light for a moment as if it was climbing up the hill, 
 then it vanished, and we have never seen it sin<je. After 
 the bicyclist, galloping as hard as a hunter after a fox, 
 came the Earl of Bladud on his grey mare. He was 
 swearing and cussing and spurring his horse like mad. 
 He took no more notice of me than if I hadn't been there. 
 He dashed past, and in a moment he was right upon the 
 engine. The horse gave the most awfuUest shy that I ever 
 seed in my life. I heard the Earl shout ' Damnation !' quite 
 loud, and he fell heavily on the ground, right in front of 
 the wheel. My, ;nate shut off steam and reversed engine, 
 but it was too late. I heard a sickening noise as if a cart- 
 wheel was crunching a rotten turnip. I turned sick-like, 
 and sat down on the roadside. We found tliat the, engine- 
 wheel had just stopped at the shoulders ; there was no head 
 left, only a mass of blood and brains, all mixed up with hair. 
 He was quite dead. Afterwards some of his friends came 
 up, and we carried the body to Sloane Hall, where it lies 
 now. It was not our fault. Neither me nor Jim coiild have 
 done more than what we did." 
 
 The man then sat down on a chair, took a drink of water, 
 
 and buried his face in his hands. There was a- profouad 
 silence throughout the haU. Lady ^nid was breathing 
 hard, clenching her hands, almost overcome by the sudden 
 and horrible tragedy in which she had played so prominent 
 a part. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the silence was broken by a longrdrawn- 
 out cry, half moan, half an exclamation of exultant joy. The 
 sound came from a woman plainly di:ess'ed, with strbngly 
 raarked features, who seemed to be as it were in a trance. 
 Her lips were moving,, but there was no sound .beyond the 
 first exclamation. She swayed silently to and fro, and then 
 rising to her full height — and she was very tall-^she cried 
 out, " Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, 
 for mine eyes have seen the coming of the vengeance of the 
 Lord." A shudder of horror passed through the meeting, 
 which, however, speedily died away as the tall form sank 
 back insensible upon her chair. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Wilkes to his neighbour, " what a 
 horrid thing, to exult O'vev such a death ! " 
 
 "Perhaps," said his neighbour, in ah unsympathetic! whisper 
 •^—"perhaps if your sister had I een walking the streets of 
 . London, as Deborah Jinksjs sister is, through the dead Earl's 
 devilry, you' would understand." 
 
 : CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 Y^ EXT morning, wlaile waiting for breakfast, Mr. Wilkes 
 
 1^1 w-as turning over the pages of the hotel register, when 
 
 ' ■^ his attention was struck by the name of Miss Ethel 
 
 Merribel. . ' ! 
 
 "What, Ethel— my cousin Ethel ! " he said. " What in the 
 
 name of wonder has brought her; to this jjart of the' world? 
 
 I thought she was nursing in a London hospital." Then 
 
 turning to a waiter who was standing hear he' asked if'Miss 
 
 Merribel wg,s still in the hotel. 
 
 ' " Yes, she arrived yesterday with another lady. They are 
 leaving to-day. We are just taking up breakfast." 
 " What is her numter ? " 
 " Number 32," replied the waiter. 
 
 "Your breakfaist is served, sir," said another waiter, hurry- 
 ing from the coffee-room. On taking his seat the waiter 
 handed him a note. " The other gentleihan has gone, sir," 
 he said. Wilkes tore open the envelope. It was a brief 
 memorandum from Faulmann, informing him that pressing 
 business had summoned him to London at once. He begged 
 Wilkes to excuse hirn. 
 
 " Humph," said Mr. Wilkes, " I wonder what is behind 
 all this? He seemed to be very cool last liight.- He 
 hardly exchanged a word with me, although the meeting 
 was an immense success ; of that there can be no doubt." 
 And thereupon the complacent candidate applied himself to 
 his breakfast with the appetite of a man whose conscience 
 and whose digestion were both of the best. 
 
 Upstairs, in Number 32, Ethel Merribel was pouring out 
 her tea, and wondering what could be the matter with 
 Lady' .Snid. Ethel was feeling the first glow of returning 
 health. She had had a sound sleep, and was feeling better 
 than she had done for a long time. She had called Lady 
 Mnii half an hour ago, and she wondered much why her 
 companion had not made her appearance. " Strange," she 
 thought, " she is usually up so bright and early. I must 
 really go and see what is the matter." 
 
 Leaving the table, she went to Lady ^Enid's bedroom, and 
 knocked at the door. There was no answer, so she quietly 
 opened the door and entered. Mmi was asleep, but in very 
 restless slumber. Her eyes, although closed, seemed red 
 and swollen. Ethel saw in a moment that her friend had 
 
An Unexpected Meeting. 
 
 43 
 
 been pa-«ing thraugh some verytrying experience. Stooping 
 over ttie bed, she kissed the girl gently on her lips. 
 
 M.iid started, opened her eyes, looked wildly round her as 
 if she were a hunted thing, and said, " Oh, it is you, dear ! I 
 am so glad you have come." And^tretching out her arms 
 she pulled her friend down toward^her, then raising herself 
 on her pillow she burst out crying. 
 
 " Oh, Ethel, Ethel, it is too dreadful ! It has haunted me 
 all night." 
 
 " You poor child, what is dreadf a1? Everythiiig seemed 
 . -to -have gone so well." 
 
 " Oh, you do not know ! " .iEnid said. . " You could not 
 -know,-you were asleep when I came in. The thought of it 
 has nearly driven 
 r.ie mad.? ' .; . ' 
 ... -"Come,.itell 
 me what it is all 
 about, dear," said 
 Ethel sooth- 
 ingly. 
 
 But Lady 
 ^nid .having at 
 lastlfound some 
 one to cling to, 
 simply juried 
 her face in her 
 friend's .bosom, 
 and sobbed as if 
 her heart woiild' 
 break. 
 
 It was only 
 after a lon^ time 
 that Eth^ was 
 able to extract 
 from her the 
 terrible story of 
 Lord Bladud's 
 fate. 
 
 As she heard 
 it come, syllable 
 by syllable, from 
 the lips of her 
 trembling and 
 sobbing friend, 
 Ethel could 
 hardly resist a 
 feeling of stern 
 delight thi-.t the 
 man whose mis- 
 deeds had 
 haunted her so 
 long had at last 
 
 met with so terrible a doom. She said nothing, however, 
 until her friend had told her story to the close. 
 
 "Now, dear," she said, when the poor girl had ceased, 
 " it is very terrible, no doubt. Still I do not see why you 
 should torment yourself about the doom which has, overtaken 
 the Earl. But, come, I will not say anything more to you 
 now. Compose yourself, take a cold shower-bath, and come 
 to breakfast. I am afraid the tea will be ice-cold by this 
 time." . So saying, she left Mm&, much relieved by the 
 mere fact of having communicated her trouble, to her bath 
 and her toilet. 
 
 As she had said, the tea was ice-cold, and when she rang 
 for some fresh tea the waiter who came up said, " Please, 
 mum, there is a gentleman below who says he knows you, 
 and wants to know if he may come up. ' Here is his card, 
 mum." ,.,... 
 Ethel took it. " Edmund Wilkes ! " she said. " Why, it 
 
 AXD GENTLY 
 
 SLKEPING GIIIL. 
 
 is my cousin. Show him up at once. Has he had 
 breakfast?" 
 
 "Yes, mmii, he has just finished-" 
 
 "Tell him to come up directly," she said impulsivelj', 
 ' " and bring up some fresh tea." 
 
 In another moment Wilkes appeared in the doorway, and 
 holding but both his hanils to his cousin, said, "I thought 
 you were tied by the heels nursing in London." 
 " So I was ; but how do you come here ? " 
 " Don't you know ? I am. Radical candidate for the 
 representation of Blankshire at the coming election." 
 
 "Never'heard a word of it," said Ethel. "So you are 
 really goins to Parliaiuent ? ", 
 
 Wilkes smiled. 
 "Not by this 
 road, I am afraid, 
 but we shall 
 make a fight for 
 it. The rest will 
 come hereafter. 
 But do sit down 
 and get your 
 breakfast and 
 tell me all about 
 yourself." 
 . Ethel sat 
 down, and while 
 pouring out the 
 tea she explained 
 how she had been, 
 sent down as pro- 
 visional nurse to 
 take charge of a 
 :iever hospital at 
 Gradam. The 
 momentshe men- 
 tioned! Garlam, 
 Wilkes started. 
 
 " What," he 
 said, " you have 
 been there ? " 
 
 "Have I not, 
 
 and nearly 
 
 ■ stay«d there for 
 
 good in a grave. 
 
 I never saw such 
 
 a God-forsaken 
 
 place in all my 
 
 life. In fact, I 
 
 should have' died 
 
 had it not been 
 
 for Lady JEnid. 
 
 But here she is," she exclaimed, as J5nid entered. "Let 
 
 me introduce you to her. Lady .^Enid ' Belsover-^my 
 
 cousin, Edmund Wilkes." 
 
 Lady ./Enid had come in looking pale and feeling still the 
 effects of the storm which had raged through the whole 
 night, unrelieved even by her feverish sleep, for she had 
 seen in her dteaiQs all the passages of that tragic chase with 
 the vividness of reality. . But when she saw standing before 
 her the man wlo had already been associated with her in 
 her flrsl but tnuch less' serious cycling adventure, she blushed 
 ©rimsoh. 
 
 " Lady .ffilnid," said Wilkes, looking at his cousin inquir- 
 ingly, " we have have met before, but I did not know that 
 you were Ladyi.^nid," and advancing he' shook hands with 
 the girl with a frank, unaffected friendliness that soon put her 
 at her ease. " I' was glad to see you at my meeting last night. 
 Lady MmA. Yours was the first face I saw on rising to speai." 
 
44 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 "Yes, I was there. I ttought it a .good opportunity of 
 hearing you without compromising either you or myself." 
 
 " You are quite right," said Wilkes gaily. " Do you know 
 that 'I am threatened with the defection of some of my 
 supporters on the ground that I have been riding in carriages 
 with duchesses ? " 
 
 " Who has told ? " she asked impulsively, much to Ethel's 
 amazement. 
 
 " It was the cabman, I think, to whose care you left me 
 when we arrived at Eigby. After he had deposited me at 
 the ' Radical Aims,' he had a drink at the bar with some of 
 my supporters, and the whole story leaked out." 
 
 " But the cabman did not know who I was." 
 
 " But he recognised the carriage as belonging to the 
 castle, and so the story got about that I was driven to the 
 Kadical stronghold by a Conservative duchess." 
 
 Lady ^nid laughed. " Well, you can deny that, anyhow. 
 But how is your campaign progressing ? " 
 
 " Oh, we have just begun," said Wilkes. " But tell me, 
 what did you think of the meeting last night ? " 
 
 " It was splendid. I enjoyed it immensely. The con- 
 clusion of your speech was magnificent." 
 
 Wilkes smiled. He had thought so himself, but, of course, 
 could not say so. Nothing is so pleasant as to find your 
 own sentiments expressed with enthusiasm by the lady iji 
 whom you have already begun to feel a certain sympathetic 
 interest. 
 
 " Well, you see," said he, " my father is a very wealthy 
 man, and all but a very small portion of our money is 
 invested in stocks and business- enterprises. About a tenth 
 of it, however, was sjient in buying a small estate in 
 Gloucestershire, and upon my word we have to spend more 
 on the people's cottages and the like from the proceeds of 
 that estate than we have to spend from the proceeds of all 
 the other investments, which are nine times as great. Of 
 course, I am against territorial interests and all that ; it is 
 played out, and the time has come to make an end of it. 
 But our own experiment in Gloucester has been suffi- 
 cient to prove to us many times over that of all forms of 
 property, land is that which returns least to the owner and 
 involves the largest obligations to those employed about the 
 place. Hence, I could not in honesty, after having said so 
 much about landlordism, conclude without speaking one 
 plain strong word as to the much greater evils of capitalism." 
 
 " You certainly spoke strongly," said she. " You will 
 think me very rude, but do you know what thought came 
 to my mind when we were all standing up and cheering 
 vou ? " 
 
 " No," said Wilkes ; " what was it ? " 
 
 " Whether you would dare to be as good as your word," 
 said Lady jEnid shortly. 
 
 Wilkes flushed slightly. " Oh, really. Lady ^nid," said 
 Ethel, "you are too bad for anything ! " 
 
 -" May I ask what reason you had for doubting me ? " asked 
 Wilkes, after a pause. 
 
 *' Forgive me," Lady ..Enid said, " for.my rudeness. It was 
 Muly because I seemed to realise more than you did what it 
 -would cost you to live up to your declaration." 
 
 There was an awkward pause. Then by way of changing 
 the subject, Wilkes remarked, ". What a terrible affair that 
 was of Lord Bladud's death ! " 
 
 'i-Yes," said Lady .Slnid, doing her best to. look uncon- 
 cerned. "I have never heard anything more awful than 
 that woman's cry; although! think, Ethel, you at least 
 would have said ' Amen.' " . - . 
 
 " KeaEy," said Wilkes, " was the Earl in reality such a 
 bad lot?" 
 
 " You had better not ask," Ethel said. " Ever since I came 
 to Garlam, the thought of that man has haunted me like an 
 
 evil demon. No one can imagine what a curse he has been 
 to the country-side." 
 
 . "There was one thing in that signalman's story," said 
 WUkes, " which I could not understand. I cannot say I alto- 
 gether disbelieve him, but it was very improbable, all that 
 tale he told concerning the pursuit of a flying cyclist, who 
 strangely and mysteriously disappeared into space. I 
 confess,", he went, on, not noticing the embarrassment of 
 Lady Mnii or the self-conscious look of her friend, " that 
 the probability is that the men in charge of the traction- 
 engine were drunk, or keeping no look-out, and invented 
 this tale in order to conceal their crime." 
 
 " But," said Lady .ffinid, " what motive could have induced 
 them to invent the story ? " 
 
 " Motive ! " exclaimed Wilkes. " You do not know, then, 
 that both the men were arrested last night, and will be 
 charged with manslaughter." 
 
 " You. don't say so ! " said Lady >35nid in genuine alarm. 
 " Why, it is monstrous 1 They could not help it." 
 
 " My dear Lady ^Enid," said Wilkes, " pray don't excite 
 yourself. Justice will be done, depend upon it. For if 
 they can produce their cyclist it will be all right. If not, 
 it will be a case of hard labour for both of them. It is a 
 serious business killing an earl in the public highway,' even 
 although he may be as big a scoundrel as Lord Bladud 
 . seems to have been." 
 
 Lady .^nid was silent, and again there was an awkward 
 P' use. 
 
 ,' "Are you going back to Garlam?" Wilkes asked of his 
 cousin. 
 
 " Never, I hope," she replied. " It is one of those places 
 to which one never willingly returns." 
 
 " What was the matter with the place ? " Wilkes asked. 
 
 " Garlam," said Ethel, " is the latest and most authentic 
 illustration of the policy of imrestricted commercialism, with 
 its policy of laissez-faire, and the devil take the hindmost. 
 Lord Bladud was bad enough in one sense. His personal 
 character was scandalous, but even he, scoundrel as he was, 
 had a higher sense of the obligations of property and the 
 responsibilities of life than has Mr. Paulmann." 
 
 Wilkes drew a long breath. " Is it really so very bad?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Bad ! " said Ethel ; " no one who has not lived in the 
 midst of those poisoned, fever-stricken people can possibly 
 ftirm any conception of how bad it is 1 I have frequently said 
 to myself, when I have seen them come into the hospital all 
 cankered with lead and groaning with disease, that the most 
 malignant tyrant we ever read of in history could not- have 
 contrived a more horrible; arrangement of human torture 
 than that which results almost automatically from this man's 
 cynical neglect of his duty towards his workmen." 
 
 Wilkes looked across the table at Lady iEnid. She did 
 not. seem to be listening to the conversation, but was 
 gently applying herself to an egg. 
 
 " Lady .Sinid ! " said he. 
 
 She. did not hear. 
 
 " Lady .ffinid ! " he repeated, more earnestly. 
 
 " I beg. your pardon," she said, starting. 
 
 " I begin to understand,", said Wilkes, " somewhat of the 
 reason for the. doubt which you expressed just now." 
 
 " Oh, forgive me ! " Lady JEniA said. " It was very rude 
 of. me, and I am the last person in the world who should 
 have said such a thing to you." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Ethel. 
 
 "I mean," said Lady .iEnid, ."that I must have been 
 judging you by myself when I. doubted whether you would 
 flinch, because I have.in myself the qoward soul which would 
 flinch under similar cirounistances. If you fail, you will 
 only be following my example." 
 
An Inquest at Sloane Hall. 
 
 45; 
 
 "You speak in enigmas," said Ethel. "What do you 
 mean, both of you ? " 
 
 " I mean," said Wilkes gravely, " that Mr. Paulmann is 
 the chairman of my election committee, and that he pre- 
 sided over my meeting last night, a:^ introduced me to the 
 audience." 
 
 " And I mean," said Lady .^nid, as if impatient to get 
 the painful confession out — " I mean that I was the cyclist 
 whom Lord Bladud hunted when he came to his death, and 
 I shrank like a coward from coming forward to confess the 
 fact. No one knows of it, no one would suspect me of 
 riding about at that time of night ; and think what a 
 scandal it would cause! It would nearly kill my poor 
 mother. As for the Duke, I do not think I could ever enter 
 Eastland again." 
 
 At that moment the waiter knocked at the door and said 
 that a gtotleman named Brassy wished to see Mr. Wilkes. 
 He was waiting below. 
 
 " Brassy ! '* said Ethel ; " can that be the man who put up 
 all the slum property in Garlam ? " 
 
 " Very likely," said Wilkes gloomily. " I will go and see 
 him anyhow." So, bidding the ladies good-bye, he uent 
 downstairs. 
 
 Sure enough it was the redoubtable Brassy. But what- 
 ever might be his motives, there was not the slightest trace 
 of animosity on his smirking countenance. " I just called 
 to congratulate you, Mr. Candid ite, on the effect you pro- 
 duced last night. Quite wonderful. I walked down with 
 Mr. Faulmann to the station, and he declared that he had 
 never seen anything like it before ; but," continued Brassy, 
 " it has just occurred to me that it would be friendly like 
 on the part of one of your committee to give you a hint 
 that you have said quite enough about capitalists. There are 
 precious few capitalists in the county excepting landlords." 
 
 " And Mr. Faulmann," observed Wilkes, rather bitterly. 
 
 Brassy was pursing up his lips for a whistle, but he checked 
 himself. " Yes," said he, " excepting Mr. Faulmann, and, of 
 course, a candidate ain't going to quarrel with his own 
 chairman, leastwise not if he hopes to make any show in the 
 fight. But a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse," 
 added Brassy sententiously. " Good-day, Mr. Wilkes." 
 
 Hopton came running in. " Won't yoii go across to the 
 court ? " said he. " Those traction-engine drivers are coming 
 up before the magistrates directly, and they will be 
 remanded. Decent fellow is Jim, the driver, as ever stepped, 
 but I am afraid it will go hard vrith him." 
 
 Wilkes put on his hat and walked across to the court with 
 Hopton. It was crowded in anticipation of the opening of 
 the magisterial inquiry into the death of Lord Bladud. 
 Almost immediately one of the justices of the town and 
 another of the county took their seats upon the Bench. The 
 prisoners were brought up and charged with having caused 
 the death of Lord Bladud. The Inspector who conducted the 
 ease produced a policeman who deposed that he had on the 
 previous night arrested both the driver and the signalman, 
 and after duly cautioning them that anything which they 
 might say would be used as evidence against them, read out 
 the statements which they had made. They were sub- 
 stantially the same as that made at the Radical meeting. 
 The driver merely said that he heard the tramp of horses 
 when approaching the turn of the road ; that he heard the 
 signalman shout, and a moment after the bright light of a 
 bicycle lamp flashed past him, the bicyclist almost brushing 
 against the wheel of the engine. Then he heard no more, 
 for his attention was immediately directed to the horseman, 
 who was apparently chasing the. bicyclist. He described the 
 shying- of the horse and the death of the Earl as the other 
 had done. . 
 
 " I have now to ask," said the Inspector, " that the men be 
 rejnanded till to-morrow. The coroner's inquest will be held 
 to-day at Slosine Hall, and to-morrow I hope to have sufficient 
 evidence to justify you committing these men for trial." 
 
 The magistrates conferred for a moment, and then remanded 
 the two men in due form, ordering the prisoners to remain 
 in custody until next day. 
 
 " Cannot you bail them out ? " asked Hopton. 
 
 " I am afraid not," said Wilkes. " Otherwise it will be 
 supposed that I had a hand in the killing of the Earl." So 
 there was no question as to bail raised. The two men were 
 to appear as witnesses at the coroner's inquest two hours- 
 later at Sloane Hall. 
 
 After leaving the court, Wilkes returned to the hotel and 
 sent up his card to his cousin's room. The answer came 
 down that the lady had gone out, but that the other lady 
 would be glad to see him. He went up and found Lady 
 JEmi alone. She was looking very distraught, but there 
 was a grim determination about her face. 
 
 "Well?" she said. 
 
 He told simply and briefly what had happened. He pro- 
 posed to go to the coroner's inquest, but it was evident that 
 unless the cyclist could be produced, and some confirmatory 
 evidence brought forward that the signalman had warned the 
 unfortunate Earl, the men were certain to be committed for 
 trial at the assizes. Lady .^nid sat still for a moment. 
 Then, looking up, she said, " I was very rude to you just 
 noW' when I said that I doubted whether you would keep 
 your word. I, little thought that I should so soon have 
 personal knowledge of the bitterness of sacrifice." 
 
 "There is no need for apology. Lady .^nid. I under- 
 stand too well hpw just was your doubt." 
 
 " But," said Lady .^nid, with a radiant light of determina- 
 tion in her bright eyes.' " I want to tell you that I see my 
 duty quite .plainly, and I am going to do it," she added, 
 "and I hope you will do yours." 
 
 "It would be. a shame," said he slowly, "if I were to be 
 less faithful to my public pledge than you to a duty of 
 which no one knows but us three. If you don't fail, how 
 d^ire I flinch?" ' 
 
 She stretched out her hand and grasped his. " That 
 strengthens me to do iny painful task," she said. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " asked Wilkes. 
 
 " Ethel has just gone out to ordfer a carriage, and we are 
 going to drive over to Sloane Hall, to the inquest," said 
 Lady .^nid. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN INQUEST AT SLOANE HALL. 
 
 / f^ADY .(ENID'S trials were by no means over with her 
 « r resolution to appear before the coroner, and give 
 ■*^ evidence on behalf of the engine-driver. When 
 Ethel Merribel returned, announcing that the trap 
 had been engaged, and would be round in a.n hour, she 
 brought with her a telegram, which was addressed to Lady 
 jEnid. She opened it hastily, looked at its contents, and 
 cried, "Oh, Ethel, father is ill, and they want me to 
 return home immediately. What can I do ? " 
 
 Ethel glanced at the telegram. It was from the Duchess 
 of Eastland, and simply stated that bad news had arrived 
 from Belsover ; that Lord Belsover was dangerously ill, and 
 in- a state of such prostration that any excitement might be 
 fatal, and that Lady iEnid must return home immediately, 
 as the worst might happen at any moment. 
 
 " Of course, you must return home at once. How about 
 the trains ? My poor child," she said, " this is a terrible 
 blow." 
 
 Lady ..Enid's eyes were filled with tears. "My poor 
 
46 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 father," she said. " He was always so good to me. Now if 
 I go to this inquest there will be a scandal in all the papers, 
 and who knows what the consequence might be?" 
 
 Her companion was already turning over the pages of 
 ■" Bradshaw." " Now," she said, " it is eleven o'clock. 
 The next through train to Belsover is— let me see^does 
 not leave Coleford until four. You have time to go to the 
 inquest. What will you do ? " 
 
 If Lady '.'Enid had not spoken about it to Mr. Wilkes, the 
 chance's, would have been ten to one that she would have 
 said that she would not go, justifying her sacrifice to the 
 interests- of justice by" the paramount consideratioir of the 
 life of her father ; but she had said she would not flinch, 
 and the additional strain to which her resolution was 
 subjected strengthened rather ithan weakened her resolve. 
 
 "Iwill go," she said. "Meanwhile, leave me alone for a 
 time." 
 
 Ethel caressed her tenderly, and left her hi her own room', 
 where, in an agony of prayer, Lady ^Euid sought for 
 strength from on high to do her duty without flincliiug. 
 
 Mr. ^Wilkes aeked his cousin if he might accompany 
 them to Sloane Hall. . 
 
 " Better -jiot," said Miss Merribel. " You know what 
 trouble came from riding with a duchess before," she added, 
 with a shrug. 
 
 So it "Was-'agreed that Ethel and Lady ^/Enid would drive 
 by themselves, while Mr. Wilkes and Hopton would precede 
 them- in a cab, and arrange for their aocomihodation. 
 
 The nnqiieat was fixed for one. It still wanted ten 
 minutes to that hour when Wilkes and Hopton drove through 
 the -gates' aiid uJD. the avenue of the 'beautiful Elizabethali 
 mansion which had so siiddenly lost its owner. 
 
 Sloane ' Hall ' was one of liiose famous, country , places 
 which were built towards the close of ' the Ehzabethan'era. 
 It stood on the. site of an old priory which had been dis- 
 mantled and condemned in Henry VIII.'s reign, and the 
 Chxirch lands' passed into the hands of a courtier who was 
 the founder both of the Sloane Hall mansion and the earldom 
 of .Q-arlairi. ... 
 
 It was a long drive from the lodge gates to the house, 
 through! the beautifully laid-'out park. The carriage-di-ive 
 passed some charming artificial waters in which swans were 
 sunning themselves in the .bright noonday sunshine of 
 October, and the . water from the lakes fell in miniature 
 cascades into the -stream, which; formed a- thread of silver at 
 the foot of the ravine. Herds of deer browsed quietly on 
 either side of the drive. The long-legged herons sailed 
 lazily overhead. Now."and again the drive passed a copse 
 into which rabbit? ran in scores,-.bobbing their white tails as 
 they went. 
 
 In the ■ drive Wilkes and Hopton overtook a cart laden 
 with wine-oases, which the Coleford spirit .' merchant had 
 been ordered to send to ' Sloane Hall only the day before 
 Lord Bladud's death. The Earl had issued invitations for 
 a great dinner party that tiight, preparatory to the annual 
 slaughter of the pheasants that was to take place the follow- 
 ing moi-ning, and, although -telegrams had been sefat to many 
 of the guestSi'. others whci Jlad heard nothing of the cata- 
 strophe were arriving at what they expected to be a house of 
 mirth, only to find it full of desolation and death. 
 
 Approaching the ' mansi6n, they passed a' waggon piled 
 iiigh with boxes and trunks of every 'Conceivable variety. 
 Some one was evidently leaving the house, who had either 
 made or intended to mlake a long stay. : 
 
 " Halloa ! " said Wilkes. " There she is ! I had foi-gotten 
 she was here, although it was notorious enough." 
 
 As he spoke, an open carriage and pair dashed by. Seated 
 alone in the carriage, half buried in luxurious furs, sat 
 Mth. Longton, one of the most notorious of courtesans of the 
 
 Victorian era. Wilkes recognised her in a moment. He 
 had seen her on the stage, where she posed bat could not act, 
 and her well-known face,' with the smooth regularity of its 
 features, and the absolute lack' of any expression other than 
 that of a somewhat stupid sheep, enabled him to identify at 
 once the harpy who, having battened on the liVes and 
 fortunes Of many lovers, was' now hastening with her gains 
 from the last man who had called her mistress. The'se were 
 her boxes, which were going away, and ..with her in.. the 
 crriage she had her jewel base. She had taken :g66d. bare to 
 stow away every precious stone the. late Earl had ever' placed 
 within her reach. There was ho trace of emotioA upon ^that , 
 wooden and impassive face, as little as there.' was, of Ipission 
 in, its owner, for Mrs. Longton -was one of those woinen who, 
 from the very lack of all feeling, seemed the, better ,'ablfe to 
 play the fatal game of rousing -the. passions, ot.thfise, whom 
 they seek to plunder. , , .■,,,. 
 
 The soii'nd of the wheels- of the departing .leman.'.had 
 aheady .died, away, in the distajjce when they drove into-'the 
 spacious quadrangle of Sloane Hall, .;It seemed 'as , if half 
 the county were there, .Eve^y one had his own version of 
 the strange and mysterious death of the fast Earl,': ,Men 
 gathered tdgether in little groups, discussing the . matter. 
 One held t'nat it was a Radical plot directed' By 'the 
 Anarchists, and that the Earl hnd TDcen as surely done to 
 death as if he had been blown up ■'by dynamite ;b'ombs. 
 Others- held that , it served him right, and the only wonder 
 was that it had not happened long ago. Between these two 
 opinions the conversation ebbed and iiowed, but the ' one 
 thing on which all agreed was that there was a j^reat 
 mystery about the cyclist. The majority flatly refusedi to 
 believe that there was any such person.. It was the inven- 
 tion of' the driver. But all these effusions were. cu,t short 
 by the arrival of the coroner, who at once proceeded tc 
 emi^anel the jury. '^ 
 
 Mr. Wilkes was uneiasy. ' Lady jE'i'iidhad not yet arrived, 
 but the inquest had been formally opened, and as the jury, 
 together with some , friends, were already on their' way "to 
 view the body," hie joined the' little gathering of visitor^' -who 
 streamed through the house to the chamber of death. 
 
 Everything about Sloane Hall bore testimony to .the 
 luxuribus magnificence in which its, late owner had U'ved. 
 
 Lord Bladud was an illustration of the:truth of' the old 
 saying that one generation makes money, the second keeps.it, 
 and the third spends it. Lord Bladud, was the third,. and 
 there was no doubt that he had riiade money fl.y with both i 
 hands since his accession to the , earldom.; . , , ■ :'l ■ ; . ,' 
 
 If thfe aristocracy are " splendid paupers,", the Earl had 
 splendour for his share ; leaving pauperism to those who came 
 after. The Sloane estate was in splendid order, and it had come 
 to him on the death of his father unembarrassed by any 
 encumbrance ; but its net rental of £20,000 a year was far 
 too little' for the extravagant tastes of the hew Earl. In 
 addition to -his ancestral seat in . Blankshire, he had a 
 shooting-box in a deer forest in the Hiffhlands, a mansion 
 in Berkeley Square, and a floating palace of a yacht, the 
 maintenance of which cost him considerably more than the 
 incomfe of a Cabinet Minister. He prided himself on his 
 kennels, which were the best in the eastern counties. He had a 
 small but valuable stud of racehorses ; and wherever he was, 
 to use his own phrase, " he went the pace." Wine, women and 
 play soon exhausted his immediate resources, and he resorted 
 to borrowing recklessly and lavishly, but to his credit be it 
 said, he did not reduce the outlay which had been the condition 
 of the estate, nor the management of the farm and the affairs 
 of labourers' Cottages. In another year or, two, even these 
 resources would have failed hun, but up to the very moment 
 of his death the Earl had always been able to lay his hands 
 upon as much cash as he needed either to spend or to give . 
 

 MBS. L0K6T0N LEAVES SLOANE HALL. 
 
48 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 away, and Sloane Hall, from garret to basement, simply reeked 
 with evidence of the luxviry and extravagance of its owner. 
 
 There was about the late Earl a certain popular sympathy 
 which made him anxious to emulate the openhanded and 
 unostentatious hospitality which used to distinguish the 
 English nobility. The tenantry were always welcome to 
 Sloane Hall, nor were any restrictions .placed upon the 
 number of times they might come to regale themselves at 
 the hospitable table which was set apart for their use, and 
 abundantly furnished with foaming tankards of ale and 
 vast sirloins of roast beef. He was no niggard, and when 
 he had money he spent it as freely upon others as upon 
 himself. No more generous host ever lavished the resources 
 of his mansion upon his guests. He was very fond of flowers, 
 was by no means deficient in natural taste, which found 
 expression in the choice of pictures and statuary, and his halls 
 and drawing-rooms were veritable treasure-houses of art. 
 
 Through the tall, through the drawing-room, past the 
 library, which was converted into a billiard and smoking room 
 — for the Earl and his boon companions cared little for any 
 books but those they made at races — the jurors made their 
 way to the Earl's bedroom,' where the body lay waiting 
 identification. 
 
 There was a strange contrast between the voluptuous 
 beauty of the fittings of the Earl's room and the figure 
 which lay stretched upon the bed. Immediately opposite, 
 looking down, as it were, upon the mutilated corpse, 
 was a picture of Bacchus and Bacchantes, fuU of life and 
 colour and a certain shameless immodesty which the Eai-1 
 in life had always affected. One" or two of the still more 
 i;)ronounced pictures of the French school had been draped. 
 Luxurious settees, piled high with the softest of cushions, 
 stood near the fireplace, and there was everywhere a pro- 
 fusion of mirrors which, when the great electrolier was 
 turned on, gave a wonderful brilliance to the room, a 
 brilliance that could be converted into utter darkness by the 
 turning of a button. 
 
 On the bed there lay a figure covered with a sheet, around 
 which the jurymen grouped themselves, waiting for the 
 coroner. They had not long to wait ; they heard his quick 
 step and authoritative voice. 
 
 " This way, gentlemen, please, to view the body. 
 Uncover tte corpse," said the coroner, upon which the 
 attendant drew back the sheet that concealed the body from 
 sight. 
 
 The Earl was a man of somewhat gross body, and the 
 spectacle that was presented of an almost headless trunk, was 
 sickening indeed. Identification of the remains was almost 
 impossible ; but there was no doubt that it was the Earl. 
 
 Having viewed the corpse, the sheet was replaced over 
 the Earl's remains, and the jury returned to the library. 
 
 The evidence was clear and to the point. The Earl, with 
 three of his companions, had been dining at the " White 
 Hart." They had dined generously, and had partaken freely 
 first of champagne, and then of some hot whisky-and-water as 
 the)' got into the saddle. They were all mellow, but none of 
 them were much the worse for drink. Two of the Earl's 
 companions, who were summoned as witnesses, testified 
 that, after having gone some two or three miles from 
 Coleford, the Earl had suddenly raised the c-y of " Tally-ho ! " 
 and had begun galloping after a ojxlist. They had believed 
 it was a race between horse and machine. They followed 
 to see the sport. That was all they knew. They had not 
 seen the cyclist, and could not identify him ; had seen 
 nothing of the accident until -they rode- up to find the- Earl 
 crushed to death by the traction-engine. 
 
 Their evidence was given reluctantly, and they seemed to 
 be considerably confused. 
 
 " We have had in evidence," said the coroner, " that 
 
 there were three companions of the Earl. Where is the 
 third?" 
 
 There was no. answer. 
 
 " Call the landlord," said the coroner. 
 
 " Now, Boniface." said he, " who were the three gentle- 
 men with Lord Bladud ? " 
 
 "Two of them have just been called. The third was 
 Lord Skeppy. " 
 
 " Where is Lord Skeppy ? " said the coroner ; " let him be 
 brought." 
 
 " Lord Skeppy,'' said one of the servants, " is ill in his 
 bedroom." ,j 
 
 " If he is too ill to leave his bed," said the coroner, " we 
 wi'l take his evidence where he is, but carry him down, if 
 it can be managed." 
 
 After a short delay it was announced that Lord Skeppy 
 would be brought on a chair, and that he was anxious to 
 testify what he knew. When he was carried into the 
 library he made considerable sensation. His face was fear- 
 fully scratched, one of his arms was in a sling, and he looked 
 ghastly and ill ; but the sensation produced by liis appear- 
 ance was nothing to the sensation produced when he stated 
 that the cyclist whom Lord Bladud had chased was a lady. 
 
 " Lady ! " said the coroner incredulously. " Ladies do not 
 go about cycling at midnight." 
 
 " I assure you it was a lady, and a very pretty lady as 
 we'l, otherwise she would not have been worth the chase." 
 
 " Then you chased her as well as the Earl ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Lord Skeppy. " I was a lighter weight, 
 and better mounted than he, and I was the first to come 
 upon her. I was going past her to hedge her back, so that 
 Lord Bladud could pick her up, when she struck my horse 
 over the head so violently that it shied into the ditch, flung 
 me off, dislocated my shoulder and scratched my face,' as 
 you see ; after that I know nothing." 
 
 The engine-driver and signalman were then called. They 
 repeated their former story, but neither of them could say 
 anything as to the sex of the cyclist. They swore they had 
 seen no petticoats^onlj' a flashing light, and some one 
 rushing past them like the wind. Upon the vital question 
 as to whether or not due warning had been given, they 
 coi Id produce no further evidence. : 
 
 "I do not see what can be done," said the coroner, " unless 
 that cychst can be found. Shall we issue *a reward for her 
 appearance, or shall we adjourn this inquest until at least we 
 have time to make inquiries ? It ought not to be difiicult 
 to discover what lady cyclists there are in the county." 
 
 The Superintendent of Police here stepped up to the 
 coroner and said that he believed the lady was in attendance 
 and was willing to give evidence. 
 
 " Let her be called at once," said the coroner. 
 
 Wilkes drew a long breath when he saw Lady ..Enid 
 make her way to, the witness's stand. 
 
 After being sworn, she began her evidence. 
 
 " What is your name '? " 
 
 ■" ^nid Belsover." 
 
 The coroner and those present looked as if the ground 
 had suddenly opened before their feet. 
 
 " Lady JSnid ? " said the coroner. " Address, please ? " 
 
 " Six Elms Castle, Belsover Park." 
 
 Then the examination began. Iiady ..Enid told her stoiy 
 verysimply. She told how she had cycled over to sec her 
 friend Ethel Merribel, who was present, and could be pro- 
 duced. Finding her knocked up with nursing at the Fever 
 Hospital, she had taken her place for a few days, until she 
 recovered strength ; that, after being in close confinement for 
 more than a week, a fine moonlight night had tempted her to 
 - take a ride, when the roads would be free from traffic, and she 
 couldget a breath of fresh air before returning to duty. 
 
The Plutocratic Microbe. 
 
 49 
 
 Then she detailed all that fallowed. On the vital question 
 of the warning her testimony was perfectly clear. She was 
 about- a hundred yards off when she caxight sight of the 
 signalman waving the red flag, and shouting repeatedly. 
 It was only because she was in mortal terror of her pursuer, 
 and found it impossible to stop at the rate she was going 
 in time to claim the protection of the signalman, that she 
 had ridden on. The distance between the signalman and 
 the engine was, she 
 thought, about a 
 hundred yards, but 
 there was a turning 
 in the road, and she 
 could not speak cer- 
 tainly about the dis- 
 tance. She was, how- ■ 
 ever, quite sure that 
 everything had been 
 done to warn herself 
 and her pursuers of 
 the approach of the 
 traction-engine, and 
 it was because she 
 knew this to be the 
 fact that, at consider- 
 able inconvenience 
 to herself, she had 
 come forward to bear 
 testimony. 
 
 When she had 
 finished her evi- 
 dence, Ethel Merribel 
 was called merely to 
 confirm the state- 
 ment as to Lady 
 .Enid's departure 
 from the hospital, 
 and her subsequent 
 return, with a 
 damaged machine, 
 and in a condition 
 of exhaustion and 
 excitement. 
 
 The coroner then 
 summed up, and the 
 jmy returned a ver- 
 dict of "Accidental 
 Death," entirely ex- 
 onerating the driver 
 and signalman from 
 all responsibility for 
 the accident. 
 
 After the verdict, 
 Lady .^nid hurried 
 back to her carriage. 
 At the door, Mr. 
 Wilkes met her, and 
 handed her into the 
 carriage. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said, in a tone that told voluines 
 as to the intensity of the strain from which she was 
 suffering. " I have not flinched ! " '"■'.' — " 
 
 " Good-bye," he said. He held her hand for one moment 
 in his. " Lady iEnid," said he, " you have done bravely 
 indeed, and the memory of your deed will help me when 
 my turn comes." - • ■ ' ■ 
 
 She looked at him gratefully — just one wistful look , of 
 gratitude mingled with a' sense of weariness and pain, and 
 ihen she was gone. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE PLUTOCKATIC MICROBE. 
 
 HEN Mr. Wilkes was turning back to the Hall, in his 
 abstraction he almost walked over Dr. Glogoul, who 
 had come over from Garlam to attend the inquest. 
 " I beg pardon," said Mr. Wilkes. 
 " On no account," said Dr. Glogoul. " I am glad to 
 
 make your acquaint- 
 ance, sir< if you are 
 the gentleman who 
 is standing as the 
 Radical candidate for 
 Blankshire?" 
 
 "I am," said 
 Wilkes. "Are you 
 an elector ? " 
 
 " I am not — at 
 least, not in this 
 county. My voting 
 place is some thou- 
 sands of miles away 
 from here, in the 
 American Republic, 
 but I was anxious to 
 make your acquaint- 
 ance, and if you have 
 no objection, and you 
 are not particularl}' 
 busy, I should like 
 to accompany you 
 around Sloane Hall." 
 Wilkes did not ex- 
 actly know whether 
 to resent the liberty 
 which his new ac- 
 quaintance was tak- 
 ing, but thinking it 
 would be following 
 the line of least re- 
 sistance to assent, he 
 languidly assented, 
 and the American 
 marched him off over 
 the grounds, through 
 the conservatory and 
 the vineries, tziking 
 glibly as he went 
 about many things, 
 to which Mr. Wilkes, 
 -^ absorbed in his own 
 thoughts, paid Uttle 
 attention. 
 
 Suddenly he was 
 aroused from his 
 brown study by 
 hearing the word 
 "Fauhnann." He 
 Ustened, and marked 
 Dr. Grlogoul's words — "I should not be surprised if Faiil- 
 maim were to take this place. • He is on the look-out 
 far- a well-preserved- property- that can be had cheap; told 
 me,s.o himself, and Bladud's place might have been made 
 for him. It is hot more than half-an-hour's drive to his 
 
 works;"- - ■■ ' ' 
 
 " Tou mean Mr. Faulmann of Garlam ? " said Mr. Wilkes 
 incredulously.. 
 
 ^ . " That same gentleman, -and no one else," said Dr. Glogbul 
 blithely. " I was talking to hirn- this very morning." 
 
 E 
 
 HE HtLIl iiER HAiiD ioB iJ^K ilOMEi^l. 
 
5^ 
 
 The Splendid Paupers,. 
 
 " Tliis morniug," said Wilkes. " Why, I understood that 
 he had been summoned to London." 
 
 " I know nothing about his being summoned," said Dr. 
 GIogouL " Hu was at the Patent White Lead Works at' 
 Garlam tliis morning, and in a very bad temper too. He is 
 not a beauty at tliu best of times, bat to-day something 
 seemed to have vexed him beyond liis wont. , Still, he was 
 evidently bent uijon getting possession of .Slowe Hall, and, 
 if so, the Lord have mercy upon the tenants and the 
 peasants and dependents. It is a bad time they will have 
 «iien Faulmann comes to the fore." 
 
 Tliey had wandered now into the picture-gallery, which 
 was dtsorted by all but themselves. 
 
 " Sit down," said IMr. Wilkes. " I want to speak to you. 
 You know this man I'aulmann V " 
 
 " Rather," said Dr. Glogoul. " I have been physicking 
 the people he has poisoned for the last three weeks, and 
 I am about tired of it. Not all the drugs of the Ph^irma- 
 copoeia. would cope with the wholesale murder for which 
 Faulmann is resjwnsible. I have told him repeatedly what it ■ 
 was necessary to do in order to diminish the mortality, but 
 he said that life was cheap, and it was none of his business. 
 He had. to make money and pay wages. If they did not, 
 like the conditions of work they could go elsewhere ; and, 
 of course, I recognised that it was business. In our country 
 that is the way in which we run things. 'Each man for" 
 himself, and the devil take the liindmost.' What interests 
 me is to see the way in which the substitution of this kind 
 of thing for the doctrine of nobhsse oblige seems, to find 
 favour with Radicals in this country." 
 
 Mr. "\Mlkes_ winced slightly, and only said, "Are you 
 going back to Garlam to-night y " 
 
 " I intend to go there as soDn as our conversation is 
 ended." , , ,' '- 
 
 " Will you. take me over to j'our place ? " . ■ 
 
 " You. will have to put up with short, commons and, 
 miserable accommodation, I am afraid; but if you care to 
 come I shall be delighted." 
 
 "I will come," said Wilkes. "I want ,to see with my 
 own eyes what you have been telling me. ' Do you know," 
 said he suddenly, " tliat this man Faulmann is the chairman 
 of my election committee V " 
 
 " I heard 40," said Dr. Glogoul, in a matter-of-fact kind 
 of way. " WJhat. of that ? Business is a thing outside 
 (lolitics. A man can be a good Radical, but a bad employer 
 of labour. There is no necessary connection between 
 private, life and public policy, is there ? " 
 
 " There ought to te," said Mr. Wilkes. 
 
 " Well, if you think so, come to Garlam," said Dr. Glogoid, 
 •" and test, if you like, your chairman's public professions by 
 his business practices. It is a dangerous experiment, and 
 I do not advise you to make it ; but if you are bent upon it, 
 I am very much at your service." 
 
 And so it came to pass that the Radical candidate for Blank- 
 shire accompanied Dr. Glogoul to the village of Garlam to visit 
 incognito the Patent White Lead Works of Mr. Faulmann, 
 and the town which had sprung up around those works. 
 
 As Wilkes drove through the unijaved streets and over 
 the open gutters, Glogoul asked him to' notice a low, strag- 
 gling building standing a little on the right hand side of the 
 road. " That," he said, "is the latest achievement in .jerry- 
 building. By-the-bye, do you happen to know anything of 
 Brassy, the jerry-builder ? " 
 
 AVilkes asked, "Do you;mean Joe. Brassy, an oily, sinister- 
 looking fellow, vfith a hare-lip and a curious bald patch at 
 the back of his head ? " 
 
 " The same," said Glogoul. 
 
 "Know him?" replied Wilkes. "I should think I do; 
 he is one of my committee '. " 
 
 Glogoul smiled grimly," and said, "We had better look- 
 into, your committeeman's shed, if you are not afraid of 
 infection." . . , i , f 
 
 " No," said Wilkes, " where you can go I can g? ; and if 
 my committeeman keeps this house, I had better see what 
 it is like." . : ,: 
 
 ', They got . out of the carriage and m.ade their way 
 to the • door. ■ Dr. Glo^pul.. opened..it ; withqixt cei'ernony, " 
 and they entered. Wilkes was almost .overpowered 
 with the nauseous stench. ' Bunks w^re^ arranged round 
 the room, at the end of %vhich were the sanitary con- 
 veniences, 30-caIled because they, were the most insanitary 
 that could be contrived, and filled the shed with a foetid 
 smell. By the light of two paraffin lamps there were dimly 
 visible .groups of frowsy men and women sitting round tables, 
 at one of which they played cards, and at the other dominoes. 
 In the middle of the- room, before the fire, some herrings 
 were frizzling, adding a flavour all their own to the aroma 
 uf mildew and sewage which filled the shed. 
 ,, ," Well, Tom;" said Glogoul, addressing the deputy, " how's 
 Nance ?",,,,. , , : 
 
 " Worse, doctor," was the reply. " I don't think she 
 will last the night. Her cough is son^ething fearful,, -and 
 the moment she dozes there is some drunken row, and 
 she is waked up again." 
 
 "You don't mean to say,'' said Wilkes, "that a poor 
 . woman is dying in the midst of this crowd?" 
 
 " Come aod see," said Glogoul. They, passed the two 
 , groups of players, and made their way to the farthest ead of 
 the room. In one of the bunks, with :her hfiad not more 
 than a foot or two from the open cesspool which served as a 
 lavatory and retiring-room for the lodgers, a poor woman 
 lay in the last jtage of consumption. , Her cheeks were 
 'sunken and' her ,eyeniad-an -unearthly, glitter, vfhile from 
 time to tinje a hacking cough was followed by ^ pitiful 
 spitting of blood. When Glogoul approached she, raised 
 herself slightly on her elbow, but failed to do more than 
 turn herself slightly in the bed. 
 
 "Doctor," she said,- in a hollow whisjper, "could you not 
 
 take nae to' some quiet place to die ? Here it is too " Her 
 
 hacking cough interrupted her sentence. 
 
 "I will do what I can," said Glogoul; "meantime 
 I will give you some medicine which will give you a littk 
 sleep." 
 
 " Thanks, doctor," she said, " oh, thanks so much ! — it is, 
 too horrible here." ' . , ■ 
 
 " Bring me a glass, will you ? " said Glogoul to the, 
 deputy. The man brought a tin pot. " Now," said Glogoul, 
 " a little water and a spoon to mix this medicine with. Nance 
 is suffering a great deal, and I am going to give her some- 
 thing to make her sleep." He mised a potion and put it to 
 her lips, she swallowed it eagerly, and lay back with 
 closed eyes. In a few minutes she seemed easier, and 
 appeared to fall into a quiet sleep. 
 
 " She is all right now, I think," said the doctor, " until 
 the morning. I will call to-morrow ; do not send for me 
 during the night." 
 
 So saying they left. " Is she the only patient you have 
 here ? " asked Wilkes. 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Glogoul,; " there are two or three others, 
 but they wiU last a little longer. She has been here for a 
 week or more, aiid it is Very interesting to notice the develop- 
 ment of consumption among the other lodgers." 
 
 The doctor spoke in a cold unsympathetic tone, as if the 
 communication of the virus of consumption to healthy 
 persons was an' ih'telre^ting experiment provided for his 
 observation by kindly Nature. ' ' 
 
 " Won't you have to come and see that woman again ? " 
 asked Wilkes. ' 
 
The Plutocratic Microbe. 
 
 51 
 
 " Certainly not," said Griogoul ; " I am going to spend the 
 evening with you." 
 
 " But," said Wilkes " she is a dying woman ! " 
 
 " She will be dead before midnight," replied Glogoul 
 calinly. m 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed AVilkes. 
 . " Deal," said Griogoul. " I arranged for that. If I had 
 not given her that jnedicine ■ she- would- have lingered for 
 another day, continuing to poison the atmosphere of that 
 overcrowded shed, suffering miserably, as you saw, because 
 she cannot get a quiet place to die in. The opiate which I 
 gave her has secured her all that she needs. She will never 
 wake again." 
 
 Wilkes, who \ya? of a hot temper and unaccustomed to 
 discuss the problems in the midst of which Glogoul spent 
 his life, ex- 
 claimed 
 wrathfully, 
 ■"Do you 
 mean to say 
 vou poisoned 
 iier?" 
 
 ""My dear 
 sir," said Glo- 
 goul calmly, 
 "I have 
 given her a 
 sleeping 
 draught. 
 There is not 
 a doctor in 
 the profession 
 who would 
 not justif)' its 
 administra- 
 tion under 
 the circum- 
 stances. But," 
 he continued 
 grimly,'- "if 
 you wish to 
 prolong- her 
 life, you have 
 only to re- 
 turn, wake 
 her up and 
 give ■ h^r this 
 emetic, and 
 she will suffer 
 hoiTibly for 
 another day 
 and then die 
 in agony, whereas 
 midnight." 
 
 Wilkes was silent, 
 
 now she will sleep peacefully off at 
 
 When he entered Glogoul's lodgings 
 and noticed the skulls and jars of' specimens which lined the 
 walls, -he said to the-dootor, " After hearing your defence of 
 murder, one feels almost as if one were entering the den of a 
 poisoner." 
 
 " So you are," replied Dr. Glogoul coolly, ■ " All medicine 
 is poison. The most successful physician has to, poison or 
 to murder— if you prefer the word— the microbe which is 
 destroying the vital tissue of his patient. Hence the study 
 Of medicine is the study of poison. Do you see these jars 
 ranged round my laboratory? In every one. of thein I am 
 cultivating some bacillus or other. I am making great 
 progress here. Never could I have had more admirable or 
 more willing subjects for .pathological experiments. I am 
 cultivating, as you see, the bacilli of all the diseases, and at 
 
 each successive stage I test their virus upon one or other t f 
 the inhabitants of Garlam. The progress of each patient 
 is carefully noted, until at last 1 arrive at a suflSciently 
 attenuated sample to be used for purposes of general 
 inoculation." 
 
 " But do you mean to say," said Wilkes, "that you are 
 absolutely inoculating healthy persons with disease in order 
 to test the imperfect results of your experiments ? " 
 " Certainly," said Dr. Glogoul ; " and we all do it." 
 " But it is a species of human vivisection," said Wilkes 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Of course," replied Glogoul. Then assuming a more 
 confidential tone he went on. " My dear sir, I perceive that 
 you are labouring under a great dehision. You call your- 
 self an advanced -politician, but you are in reahty a very 
 
 reactionary 
 philosopher. 
 You do not 
 seem to have 
 mastered-: the 
 fundamental 
 doctrine, of 
 the philo- 
 sophy or reli- 
 gion of the 
 f u t u r e -^- 
 namely, that 
 men are auto- 
 mata, and 
 that the doc- 
 trine of moral 
 responsibility 
 is ■ a figment 
 of the imagi- 
 nation. The 
 laws of force 
 and.' energy 
 act with nn- 
 d e via ting 
 •uniformity 
 throughout 
 the whole of- 
 life. Meta- 
 physicians 
 have ima- 
 gined they 
 could slice off 
 a small 'frag- 
 ment of exist- 
 ence and as- 
 sume that the 
 laiv of neces- 
 sity which dominates the whole of physical nature ceases 
 at an arbitrary frontier line which they draw. Itdoes not 
 cease. There is no frontier line. We are all ' creatures of 
 necessity." 
 
 " Then,'' said Wilkes, " on that doctrine what becomes of 
 the moral law ? " 
 
 " There is no moral law," replied Glogoul, " any more 
 than there ' is any religion. WhSit is right to-day may be 
 wrong to-mcrrow, and what, is wrong to-morrow may be 
 right the day after. The welfare of society in the future: 
 will, rest as a foundation upon what, if we may use old 
 mythologjcalplirases, may be described as the moral obliga- 
 tion to murder." 
 
 " You talk like an assassin in the jargon of a philosopher," 
 said Wilkes bitterly. 
 
 "You will not offend* me," said Glogoul calmly; "nothing 
 can offend a man when he has once firmly grasped the 
 
 IIEKE IS KG JIOltAL L.WV, 
 
 'AID l_.LnuuL-L 
 
52 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 fundamental principle of the ijew philosophy. An unfamiliar 
 idea, when first propagated, always produces its natural 
 reaction in the social organism which is always con- 
 servative, and rightly so. Your martyrdoms and cruci- 
 fixions, what were they but the reflex action of the self- 
 preserving instinct in society? You may call me an 
 assassin now, but the assassin of to-day is the philanthropist 
 of to-morrow. Modern civilisation is rapidly securing the 
 survival of the unfit, with the result that the whole race 
 has run to nerves. The modern man, but still more the 
 modern woman, is becoming a hopeless neurotic, and if it 
 were not for cholera, war and similar beneficent agencies I 
 should despair for the future of the race. - 
 
 " Now, for instance," continued Glogoul, handing a cigar- 
 case to Wilkes and lighting his own cigarette, " you consider 
 that your democratic socialism and humanitarian enthusiasm 
 are the finest outcome of the civilisation of the past. That 
 it is a product of the past, and that it will work out certain 
 results, I do not doubt ; but these results are not what you 
 anticipate. Your maudUn philanthropy with its revolt 
 against the decrees of Nature, what is if doing? It is 
 creating a neurotic population which flies from the country, 
 in which alone healthy manhood is possible, and crowds the 
 cities, which are hotbeds of mental and physical deteriora- 
 tion. Having destroyed the monarchy, you are now waging 
 a holy war against the aristocncy, and what is the result ? 
 Bladud has gone and Faulmann rises in his steid. The 
 tendency of the neurotic civilisation is to establish on the 
 riiins of all dynasties and hieiarchies and ' religions the 
 despotism of the dollar, the sway of the plutocrat j which 
 wiU be as ruthless as Asiatic cholera and a great deal less 
 speedy in its beneficent surgery." - 
 
 "A truce to theorising," said Wi-kes. "You may, be 
 rigtit or you may be wrong, but what about Taulmann ? " 
 
 " All right," said Glogoul ; " don't be so impatient. Let 
 me finish what I have to say. In this old country you. have 
 succeeded, in preserving, how I do not exactly know, nor 
 need we inquire, the principle of noblesse oblige, which has 
 played its part and has contributed its fair share to the 
 welfare of the social organism. It has even succeeded: in 
 teaching ten per cent, of your moneyed men that if noble- se 
 oblige is, a good doctrine, richesse oblige has also some- 
 thing to say for itself. But if you want to see_ the plutocrat 
 freed from the swaddling-clothes of aristocracies, you must ' 
 come- to my country. There you will be told that 
 Democracy is Triumphant, with the result that capital is 
 king — king by right divine of the almighty dollar, with a 
 ])ower which disdains the limitations with which your ' 
 philanthropic sentiment has crippled the capitalists in this 
 country. But your sentimental socialism- is saturating the 
 American working man with its dreams of an impossible 
 Utopia, and capitalism, even in the States, has occasional 
 nightmares based upon the memories of the Christian 
 mythology which it learnt in its childhood. To see the 
 true ultimate, of the power of plutocracy freed from the 
 trammels of mythological scruples or humanitarian preju- 
 dices we must go to China. There alone the pathological 
 student can make experiments without fear of conse- 
 quences. There alone is the right divine of money 
 sanctioned by custom and recognised as the highest law, 
 by a population laborious and ingenious enough to dominate 
 the world." 
 
 Glogoul paused, and for a few minutes the two men 
 smoked on in silence. Then Wilkes looked at i.'s watch. 
 " You have not told me a word about Faulmann," said he. 
 
 "No," said Glogoul; "I have all the material reudy, and 
 you can read it at your leisure." Thereupon he L xnded him 
 aportfolio, in which were arranged with the careful pedantry 
 of a university professor all the documents relatii;g to the 
 
 " tyjje Faulmann." There was, to begin with, the copy of 
 the original prospectus on which the White Lead Company 
 was fovmded ; lists of the shareholders, of the ofiicers, and 
 reports of all the annual meetings held since the company 
 was founded. There was a list of the dividends paid from 
 the year of its commencement. There was a portrait of the 
 man Faulmann, with a biographical sketch as complete as 
 could be made, showing that he was the son of a Jew pedlar 
 in Germany, and commenced life by helping his father to 
 wheel his barrow. "He had gradually accumulated a little 
 capital, with which he had speculated luckily, and again 
 speculated until he had been able to start business as a small 
 moneylender. It also stated how his business had grown 
 and thrived ; that he had excited much animosity in the 
 district in which he lived ; that he had been obliged to 
 realise his investments and come to London. There was 
 also the scandalous story of the obtaining of the monopoly 
 for the-supply of white lead to the Turkish Empire, which 
 he had. procured by bribing a pasha high in office at the 
 Sublime Porte, together with notes of the conversations 
 which the doctor had had with Faulmann on various 
 occasions. The gist of all these was the same, that business 
 was business, money was money, and that — 
 
 " Dollars and dimes, dollars and dimes, 
 To be -without money's the -worst of crimes. 
 To keep all you get, and get all you can 
 Is the first, the last, the whole duty of man." 
 
 Then followed a series of extracts from blue-books which 
 coiitained the reports of the inspector of factories as to the con- 
 dition of the lead works. They began from the year after the 
 works were opened, and continued down to the last published 
 volume. They were an unbroken series of condenmations. 
 They_ pointed out that the machinery was left unfenced, that 
 the necessary provisions for cleanliness were not made, that 
 the -wprkpeople were allowed to eat in the works, and that, 
 in short, every precaution which sanitary science showed to 
 be necessary to render innocuous the prosecution of such 
 ah industry was conspicuous by its absence. 
 
 There were also one or two cases in which actions had been 
 brought in the neighbouring police and county courts against 
 the White Lead Com'pany, but always with one result — 
 namely, that after the first hearing there was a remand, and 
 ■ then nothing more was heard of the case. The Company 
 always found it better policy to square the individual than to 
 provoke a public scandal. 
 
 As Wilkes read on and on with a sinking heart, he turned 
 to another bundle of documents. They were extracts from 
 the reports of the medical officer of the Union in which 
 Garlam stood. From these he learned that the whole of the 
 ground on which Garlam stood had been leased to the White 
 Lead Company by the Earl of Bladud. The Company was 
 the sole ground landlord, but almost all the houses in which 
 the workmen lived had been put up by Joe Brassy of Eigby. 
 These" reports to the Local Sanitary Authority were varied by 
 an occasional report by the medical inspector of the Local 
 Government Board when an epidemic had broken out. 
 They all told the same tale, and showed the absolute neglect 
 of everything which would not bring the Company a profit. 
 There was neither water supply nor drainage system, 
 no provision for cleanliness, nor for the education or the 
 civilisation of the unfortunate workman. In short, if the 
 condition of the Patent White Lead Company's works was 
 deplorable, that of the village of Garlam was still more 
 detestable. It was a scandal to a country calling itself 
 civilised that such a population should be found in such a 
 condition of squalor, filth and disease. 
 
 Glogoul had gone on smoking without saying a word. 
 When Wilkes had finished rea(iing the last document he 
 
Defeated but Triu.mphant. 
 
 53 
 
 looked up at his host. His cheeks were pale and his lips 
 compressed. 
 
 " Well ? " said Glogoul. 
 
 "Well, indeed,'" said AVilkes bitterly, "the infernal 
 scoundrel ! " • 
 
 " My dear sir," said Glogoul, blowing a ring of tobacco 
 smoke, which floated slowly tip to the ceiling — "no 
 impatience. Eemember Paulmaun but acted according to 
 the law of his being. He is a very good specimen of — what 
 should I call it ? — the plutocratic microbe, whose virus has 
 not yet been sufficiently at- 
 tenuated by civilisation." 
 
 " But," said Wilkes, " this 
 twenty-per-cent. fiend is a 
 thousandfold greater curse 
 to the country than a scamp 
 like Lord Bladud." 
 
 "And yet," said Glogoul, 
 with a slightly malicious 
 humour gleaming in his eye, 
 ■" it is under the auspices of 
 Mr. Faulmann of the Patent 
 White . Lead Works, and 
 Mr. Brassy, landlord of 
 Garlam, that Mr. Edmund 
 Wilkes has come down to 
 wage war to the death 
 against the territorial mag- 
 nates in order to promote 
 the well-being of the_people." 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 DEFEATED BUT TRIUMPHANT. 
 
 ,DMUND WILKES 
 
 slept little that night. 
 
 When he came down 
 
 to breakfast he found 
 that Dr. Glogoul had already 
 gone on his rounds. On his 
 plate lay a card, on which 
 the doctor had written as 
 follows :. — 
 
 " Excuse my absence, but I 
 have to start early to arrange 
 for a successor. I forgot to 
 tell you last night that I am 
 going by the next mail to 
 China. That is the country 
 of the future, for it is the 
 country of the logical ulti- 
 mate of materialism and 
 money. It will take your 
 
 Faulmanna and your Walled- '^»' 
 
 offs another generation be- 
 fore they can develop the mt.^' 
 type of man whom I am 
 
 seeking, and whom I shall find in the Celestial Empire, 
 the-bye, Nance died last night." 
 
 ,^^ 
 
 By- 
 
 Wilkes finished his breakfast and went out into the 
 village. The men were all at work, and the frowsy women 
 were standing gossiping in the streets. A swarm of dirty 
 urchins were sailing chip boats in the gutter. Overhead the 
 sky was bright and clear, for a land wind drove the smoke of 
 the works far away over the sea. As he stood at the door- 
 way, looking about him, Wilkes noticed a man who appeared 
 to be a cross between a bill-sticker and a gamekeeper, 
 coming down the street, handing what seemed to be tracts 
 
 to the people. Wondering what phase of social or religious 
 propaganda this distribution might represent, tlie man 
 rapidly approached him and offered him a couple of hand- 
 bills. He took them mechanically, without looking at their 
 headings, and said to the man, " Are you distributing them 
 everywhere ? " 
 
 " Yei," was the reply, and the man hurried on. " Election 
 business ! Couple of these to be delivered at every house in 
 the county before to-morrow night ! " 
 
 Wilkes glanced at the bills, and as he did so his heart sank 
 within him. 
 
 He entered the house, 
 closed the door, and sat 
 liuwn. He saw in a moment 
 their significance, and he 
 paid unwilling homage to the 
 ingenuity and adroitness of 
 Mr. Wirham, whose hand he 
 at once recognised. The two 
 bills resembled each other in 
 shape and size. Each was 
 headed on one side, " What 
 THE Radical Candidate 
 Says!" Wilkes recognised 
 with a groan the peroration 
 of which he had been so 
 liroud when he delivered it at 
 the Corn Exchange at Cole- 
 ford. On the other side of 
 one of the bills was printed, 
 "What the Radical 
 Chairman Does ! " which 
 was followed by a most 
 scathing extract from the 
 report of the Local Govern- 
 ment Inspector as to the 
 scandalous neglect of every 
 ]irecaution for preserving 
 the health of the employes 
 of the Patent White Lead 
 Works at Garlam. At the 
 bottom of the bill was printed 
 one line: "The dividend of 
 the Patent White Lead 
 Works last year was 20 per 
 cent." The second handbill 
 was also headed, "What 
 the Radical Candidate 
 Says ! " and on the opposite 
 'iide was the heading, 
 "What the Radical 
 L.\KDL0RD Does ! " then fol- 
 lowed an extract from the 
 Rural Sanitary inspector's 
 report as to the condition of 
 Mr. Brassy's house property 
 at Garlam. At the bottom 
 of this leaflet was printed, " How can the Radical Candidate 
 keep his Word?" 
 
 Wilkes remained in the doctor's room for ten minutes, 
 staring at these two biUs, the bearing of which on his can- 
 didature he saw in a minute. He had taken the field with 
 a generous enthusiasm and an honest belief that the cause 
 of social democracy demanded a revolt against the influence 
 of the territorial aristocracy, and now he was confronted 
 with incontrovertible evidence that the chaiiman who 
 was bringing him out, and one of the leading members of 
 his electoral committee, were guilty of infinitely more heinous 
 oflences against humanity and the working-people than the 
 
 IIL (iLAKCED AT THE BILLS, 
 AXD his heart sank. 
 
54 
 
 The Splendid. Paupers. 
 
 ivorst peer m Blarikshire.' WKat was he to do ? Retire ? He 
 shrank from that alternative. He had pledged his word to the 
 electors to fight the battle through without flinching. He 
 honestly believed that the ascendency of the Duke of 
 ■]'>astlajid was prejudicial to the best .interests of the county. 
 The broad features of the political and social situation were 
 ill no wajf altered by the fact that he had a scoundrel for 
 ■his chairman and a rascally jerry-builder among his 
 supporters. Yet what hope was there of making even a 
 semblance of a fight if at the beginning of the campaign he 
 were to quarrel with Faulmann and Brassy ? What was 
 he to do ? 
 
 His first and fcremost impulse was to have it out with 
 Faulmann there and then. He put on his hat and coat and 
 walked down to the oflSces of the Patent White Lead 
 Works and inquired fur Mr. Faulmann, only to be told that 
 he had left the place and would not be back fur two or three 
 days. G-arlam was hateful to him, and Wilkes felt he could 
 not remain there another hour. As it was only about ten miles 
 to Coleford, he came to the conclusion that he could not do 
 better than walk off his spleen. By the time he arrived 
 at Coleford he would probably have made up his mind as 
 to what cour.-ie to adojt. Pulling his hat over his eyes 
 he strode sullenly down the street, past Joe Brassy's 
 ficetiously designated "Model Lodging House," and out 
 i.ito the open country. He was relieved to have left that 
 pest-smitten village behind him. There was a fine autumnal 
 crispness in the air, and bafure he had gone a couple of miles 
 his spirits bsgan to -rise. 
 
 Seeing that a winning game was out of the question, 
 could he not play the grand game ? He had taken the field 
 against the territorial system ; it was now time for hini to 
 fulfil his. pledge to defend the cause of the peojile against 
 the capitalist scorpion. He had a meeting that night in 
 Stronwich. Hopton would be there, and Brown would 
 suppoft him in whatever he did. He would show the 
 county what his candidature meant. There should be no 
 flinching. He would fight the Duke, and Faulmann, and 
 Brassy, and the whole crew. With which valorous resolve 
 he fell to preparing the speech in which he would declare this 
 new departure, and proclaim to his supporters that their 
 chairman was to be henceforward regarded as the enemy. 
 
 On arriving at Coleford he bought a special edition of the 
 LibSral weekly paper, which contained a full report of the 
 proceedings at the inquest at Sloane Hall the p. evious day. 
 There was a short editorial, in which the writer commented 
 somewhat sarcastically upon the modern young woman who 
 went cycling at midnight, apparently in search of adv3nture>, 
 and who was attending Radical meetings at the time when 
 her father was dying. " There must be some strange 
 attraction in Blankshire at the present moment," continued 
 the leader writer, " to induce Lady JEnid Belsover to leave 
 her home and indulge in such vagaries as these." 
 
 A telegram in aiiother part of the paper announced that 
 Lord Belsover had died at three o'clock the previous day, 
 almost exactly the same moment that Wilkes had handed 
 Lady 'jEnid into a carriage at Sloane Hall. He realised 
 as he ha<l never don« before the sacrifice which she' had 
 made, and the cruel misrepresentations to which she 
 had laid herself open on his account. A fierce impulse 
 seized him to go to the newspaper office and flog the editor 
 within an inch of his life. A moment's reflection convinced 
 him that this would only make matters worse, more 
 especially as, glancing down the paper, he came upon a 
 significant paragraph, which ran somewhat as follows :— 
 
 Grave dissatisfaction was expresaerl at the Radical head- 
 quarters at the extraordinary utterances of the youirg man 
 from London, Mr. Edmund Wilkes, at the meeting in tlie Corn 
 Exchange l^st night. He went oat of hit! way t'l cjinpU- 
 
 meiit the Duke of Eattland, and was preparing an oluboralc- 
 attack up"n the deoeaai'd E irl of Bladud, who had bL-en done- 
 to death by the vagaries of a fair cyclist wlio appears lo havtf 
 a singulnr fascination for the Radical candidate. Checked in 
 the' delivery of this attack upon a dead man by the indignation 
 and horror "of the audience, tjiis " Radical " candidate brouglit 
 his spdtch to a clnse bymaking what all present regarded' as. 
 an attack, no lefes monstrous because it was cleverly veiled, up- ii 
 the chairman of the meeting. Well has the Tory D: l.lah played 
 her part ! The PIdlistines are upju thee, Samson ! 
 
 Flinging down the paper in disgust, he went to the "'Boar's 
 Head"' and ordered something to .eat. While waiting for 
 lunch to be served he took up the Conservative paper. It 
 contained a picturesquely written description of the meeting 
 in the Cora Exchange, not inaccurately done, .but at the 
 close of his peroration, which was reported in the first' persciu, 
 the descriptive writer said : — 
 
 The meeting rose and cheered vociferously; but there .wa& 
 one person «ho showed no inclination to join in the enthueiasm 
 of the crowd. That person was the chairman. He seemed as. 
 nncomfortjcble as a toad under a, harrow, and' no wondrr. 
 Mr. Wilkes i< a young man, and is unacquainted with the 
 story of the Patent Wliite Lead Works' of Garlam. ' 
 
 The leading article complimented him upon the intrepidity 
 with which he had stated his, opinions, and expressed a 
 hope that he might be as good as his word, and carry the 
 war into the camp of the capitalist who, out Qf;a dividend of 
 twenty per cent., left his workmen' to rot with disease, 
 while the hard-hit landlords, who were scarcely drawing 
 two per cent, upon money invested in _ improving:,.- the 
 . land, were expected to supply the latiourers with healthy 
 cottages and to look after their sanitary ne'eds. 
 
 Here was but cold comfort for. Wilkes. One or two 
 people at the market ordinary, who had been at th^ meeting, 
 came over aiid shook hands with, him.. Others, who had 
 been very enthusiastic at the Corn ^xphange passed 'liim 
 without seeming to notice his existence. " As soon as he; had 
 finished his lunch he took the train to Strtinwjfchir, " 
 
 On arriving there he found a pretty state of affairs in his 
 committee-room. Brassy had been there all the:' morhing 
 declaring that Wilkss was a trSiitor; that he had' sold the 
 cause ; and that he was the lover of Lady jEnid Belsover, 
 who had been used as a decoy to lure the impulsive young 
 ..Radical into the Tory f<ild. He said that Mr. FaulmUnH' was. 
 determined to have nothing to do with .hia candidature, and 
 that he himself was convinced that, Wilkes was a wolf in 
 sheep's clothing, and that the campaign must be a;bandon'ed 
 unless another candidate could be fouud-at onoei - The Jscat 
 committee were in session when he- arrived. Brassy had 
 left, having sown the seeds of suspicion' and distrust -vtith 
 both hands. Wilkes was a stranger knd alone, without aiiy 
 person even to introduce him to those who were present. 
 
 "You are Mr. Wilkes, I suppose," , said ' a b|Urly beer- 
 house keeper, who had turned Radical' because of,bein<i 
 severely fined by a Tory magistrate for some offence against 
 the Licensing Laws. " Mr. Wilkes," said this woithy, iwhose 
 name was Peter Philpot, " we ' ain't Londoners, but plain 
 ■country-fqlk, who say whai they think and don't beat aoout 
 the bush. What is the meaning of all this talk that is in the 
 papers this morning about you and the lady cyclist w'.io 
 killed Lord Bladud ? " ' : i 
 
 " Sir," said Wilkes, with difficulty restraining an inclina- 
 tion to throw .the man downsta' r.'i, "I am perfectly -ready to 
 answer any q uestions which you may care to ask me, but 
 I would beg of yoJi as a gentleman to. refrain from insulting 
 a stranger whom you have invited to address you." 
 
 A quiet-lookmg man who was sitting near the door said, 
 " Philpot, sit down ; that is not the way in which to open 
 this business, which is delicate and difficult, and with your 
 
DfifEATED BUT TrIUMPHANT. 
 
 55 
 
 permission, sir," Tie said,' turning lb Mr. Wilkes, " we would 
 like to ask you one or two questions." 
 
 " Ask as many as you please," said Mr. Wilkes. 
 " We have heard, sir," said this man, who was in a thrivinc; 
 way of business, "we hare heard you called a traitor, and 
 there be those who have said all (Banner of evil against you 
 behind your back; but as they are not here to say it before 
 your fade, we do not need' to take any account of them. 
 But, Mr,' Wilkes,' we' are uneasy about one thing: do you 
 mean to fight this thing out, or will you sell us to the 
 enemy ? " 
 
 " Hear, hear," said PJiilpot ; " that is the question, and let 
 us have a straight answer, young man." 
 
 " Gentleirien," said Mr. Wilkes, "I am going to fight this 
 battle through to the bitter end, whether or not I have the 
 honour of your support.. ' I was asked to come here as the 
 only man you could find who would be independent enough 
 — and, shall I say, reckless enough — to raise the standard of 
 revolt against the enemies of the people. Personally I had 
 nothing to gaiq, and much to lose. I had a safe seat offered 
 me in more than one northern county, but the forlorn hope 
 attracted me, and I came here to fight to the last. There 
 will be no fiihching on my part, gentlemen." 
 
 The frankness of his speech disarmed a good deal of the 
 suspicion with which he had been regarded. " I see now," 
 he continued, " that the fight will be much more serious than 
 we had anticipated when ^ came. For, gentlemen, what we 
 haTe' to contend against is not merely the influence of the 
 landlords, which will be used without mercy now that they 
 are threatened in the very stronghtild of their power, we 
 have , to encounter a much more dangerous and more 
 insidious foe. As you know, I came here a stranger. I was 
 introduced to the meeting at Coleford by Mr. Faulmann, the 
 chairman of theEadical committee of Blankshire. I knew 
 nothing abo\it Mr. Faulmann excepting as the chairman if 
 your committee, and I had been told that he was a sound 
 Eadical, who was wilting to support energetically the 
 struggle we were to make for independence. I spoke, as 
 'some of you who were at the meeting may remember, with 
 great emphasis as to the need for fighting the foes of the 
 people wherever they were found ; whether they were the 
 broken-down tyrants of territoriali^m, or the new tyranny i f 
 tbe plutocrats. I did not know then what I know now." 
 
 There was a stir in the committee-room, and every one 
 bent forward to catch his lightest word. 
 
 "I spent last night at Garlam. I have had the opportunity 
 of studying the official reports concerning the way in whicli 
 Mr. Faulmann fulfils his duty as an employer, and the 
 reports of the local officer of health as to the sanitary condi- 
 tion of the village which he has allowed Mr. Brassy to build 
 on his land, at his gates. Gentlemen, I do not disguise from 
 you for a moment that, bad and hateful as the dominion of 
 the squire and parson "has been, and great as is the dereliction 
 of duty on the part of many of the peers who have lorded i't 
 over this free democracy, there is nothing that I have either 
 read or heard to equal for infamy the condition of misery 
 which has come into existence in the last few years under 
 the direct authority of Mr. Faulmann." 
 
 A profound sensation followed this emphatic utterance. 
 Committeemen wids[iered to each other, and Philpot audibly 
 snorted, " Didn't I tell you so ? " 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Wilkes, " let us bs perfectly plain and 
 above-board. If I am to head the revolt of the people 
 against their tyrants and taskmasters, that revolt must be 
 directed equally against all tyrants and taskmasters, whether 
 they call themselves Radicals or Conservatives. We stand 
 for the people. It is their cause that I came to Blankshire 
 to fight, and it is nothing to me whether they suffer from a 
 plutocrat or a peer. Wherever wrong is done, that wrong 
 
 must be righted, or we will know the reason why. Xow, 
 gentlemen, I have told you where I stand; it is for you to 
 decide what you will do." 
 
 Mr. Wilkes resumed his seat. Peter Philj^t jujnped up 
 instantly and declared, "It, is, all very well for the young 
 man from Londqn — ■_ — " , , ■ : . , 
 
 " Hush ! " said a companion ; " keep a civil tongue in your 
 head, anyhow." , . ■ 
 
 " Well, will the candidate tell us," he contiiiued, " how 
 we are to fight this battle -without a chairman ? Where is 
 the money to come from ? " 
 
 Another member of the committee asked more civilly how 
 Mr. Wilkes proposed to carry on tlie campaign, if he were 
 to begin it by adding Mr. Faulmann to the list of the enemies 
 against whom they had to fight ? , 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Wilkes, "all this has come on me as a 
 surprise. What I propose is, to meet , the people, in the 
 Town Hall to-night at Stronwicb, and put the case before 
 them fully and fairly. If they support me, well and good ; 
 we shall replace Mr. Faulmann as chairman of the committee. 
 If they ref4se to support me, I shall pi'Osecute my candida- 
 tiu'e without regard to the Radical organisation.. I cannot 
 go back. I have nailed my cc.loiu-,s to the mast, and 1 am 
 going to the poll." . , 
 
 After considerable discission, and some acrimonious 
 animadversions, it was agreed that no better cnur^g could be 
 suggested. Mr. Wilkes, therefore, that very evening, met a 
 crowded and boisterous assembly of the electori^ in the town- 
 ball. There was a great deal of prejudice ag ii^t him at 
 first, and for a time it seemed as if there would be some 
 difficulty in obtaining a hearing. His composure, his good 
 hmnour, ai.d his quiet determiii;ition tiiumphed at last, and 
 soon the crowded assembLige was listening intently to his 
 words. Discarding all pretence of making a regular political 
 speech, he told the whole story uf..the ,st<te of affairs at 
 Gr.u-lam, and appealed to them whether, as honest, men, they 
 could decliire war igidnst the landlords, while in their own 
 ranks they cherished a jerry-builder whose la'' dlordisin was 
 far worse than that of the most despotic peer-in. the county ; 
 or whether they could go forth to battle- under a leader whose 
 works were a byword for his cynical neglect of all care for 
 the well-being of his people. , 
 
 Long before he had reached his peroration Wilkes felt 
 that he had the audience i"- ".is hand. When he sat down 
 there was no whisper of opposition. Philpot was cowed, 
 and even Brassy, who had slunk into, a corner where he 
 could hear and not be perceived, di.l not venture to dissent. 
 It was decided to prosecute the campaign on Mr. Wilkes' 
 lines, and a general meeting of the, party was summoned to 
 meet at Rigby on the following Moi^day. 
 
 When that committee met the first business was to read a 
 letter from Faulmann resigning his chairmanship. There 
 was no explanation, nor was any neeiled. Mr. Brassy also 
 resigned his position on the committee, but with these 
 exceptions the committee stood .firm. The Rev. Ebenezer 
 Brown was appointed chairman in the place of Mr. Faul- 
 mann, and the campaign was fought out . on the lines 
 laid down by Mr. Wilkes at the meeting in Stronv/ich. 
 
 "It is magnificent," said Mr. Wii'h»m, as he read of 
 Mr. Wilkes' doings, " very magiuficent, but it is not war. 
 We may dismiss half our oanvassiers at once, as it .is usele.ss 
 togo to any unnecessary exp-^n^e. As for myself, I will go 
 back to town. Lord Bulstrode's return is a certainty." 
 
 The experienced wirepuller was right. But fur a time Mr. 
 Wilkes and his supporter.^, fiJlof the energy and enthusiasm 
 of youth, deceived themselves. by the mere reflection of their 
 own energy into believing that they had a chance of success. 
 They had enthusiastic meetings everywhere. Lord Bulstiode 
 hardly ever opened his mouth, and when he did, as one of 
 
56 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 his followers candidly admitted, " lie aUvays put .his foot 
 in it." The clergy, with two or three exceptions, canvassed 
 their parishes ostensibly on 
 behalf of the' Welsh "Church, / 
 
 but in reality in the interests i 
 
 of Lord Bulstrode. Of Mr. 
 Faulmann nothing was heard 
 or seen. Mr. Brassy laid low, 
 feeling that he was in immi- 
 nent danger of being crushed 
 between the upper and the 
 nether millstone; but what 
 influence he could exert he 
 used against Mr. Wilkes, and 
 he gave his vote for Lord Bul- 
 s'rode. When the polling day 
 came Lord Bulstrode received 
 3,600 votes, while Mr. Wilkes 
 had 1,300. 
 
 The election had been a long 
 one, for the contest had not 
 taken place until six weeks 
 after the death of Lord Bladud. 
 After hearing the declaration, 
 Wilkes, weary and worn under 
 the blow of his crushing dis- 
 appointment, retired to the 
 " Boar's Head," excusing him- 
 self from his committee by 
 sajang that he wished to be 
 alone for a little time. He 
 entered his room, locked the 
 door, flung himself on a couch, ~ 
 and was just giving way to a 
 series of bitter self-reproaches, 
 when there was a knock at the 
 door. He jumped up in a 
 moment and opened it. 
 
 " Did I not tell you that I 
 wished to be alone ! " he ex- 
 claimed, when he saw standing 
 behind the apologetic waiter 
 the figure of a young lady i_ 
 deep mourning. 
 
 " She would not give her 
 name," said the waiter, " but 
 said that she must see you." 
 
 "May I not see you, Mr. 
 Wilkes ? " said the lady, in a 
 voice which thrilled him like 
 an electric shock. 
 
 "Certainly," he replied. 
 " Waiter, it is all right." 
 
 The waiter, marvelling at this 
 sudden change, closed the door, 
 leaving Mr. Wilkes face to ^-.^ 
 face with Lady j^nid. She 
 threw back the veil with 
 which she had concealed her 
 identity. She was in deep 
 mourning. 
 
 "Mr. Wilkes," she said, "I 
 came to thank you for the 
 gallant fight you made. You 
 
 promised me you would not flinch, and nobly you have kept 
 your word." 
 
 The candour with which the girl addressed him was as 
 frankincense and myrrh to the wounded and mortified self- 
 love of the defeated candidate. 
 
 YES, MH. ^MLKES, iOL M\.Y; 
 
 " It is very good of you to say so, ne said. " I have 
 often wondered if you ever thought of it all." 
 
 • ■ ■ ' "I have been," said she, 
 
 " through ■ deep waters. My 
 poor father was dead before J 
 lould reach home, and my 
 mother, who was in weak health, 
 never survived the shock of my 
 father's death. Both my parents 
 are dead," she said. " Know- 
 ing what the result would be, I 
 hurried over to be with you at 
 Ihe declaration of the poll, and 
 to assure you how grateful I 
 leel for the splendid manner in 
 which you have redeemed' your 
 pledge. Now it will not do for 
 me to stay here any longer. 
 Good-bye," she said, extending 
 her hand. 
 
 He took it in both of his, but 
 did not let it go. 
 
 " Lady ^nid, I cannot tell 
 you all you have been to me 
 during this struggle. Whenever 
 I felt inclined to flinch, it was 
 your example that steeled my 
 resolution and carried me 
 through the whole of this cam- 
 paign. But," he added with a 
 bitter smile, " it has all ended 
 in nothing, as you see. A ma- 
 jority of over two thousand for 
 Lord Bulstrode. How the enemy 
 will jeer ! " 
 
 "Nay," said Lady ^nid, 
 " was it not better to have 
 fought and lost, as you have 
 done, than to have fought and 
 won with Faulmann ? " 
 
 "Forgive me, Lady iEnid," 
 lie said. " Do not - go yet ; as 
 you have been my only inspira- 
 tion, you are now the only con- 
 solation that I have. I cannot 
 tell you what your words have 
 been to me until this day. I 
 was in the depths of despair 
 when you entered, and now 
 your friendship has given me 
 a new hope, and even," he added, 
 "an aspiration of which, if I 
 
 might " He hesitated. 
 
 Lady iEnid, who had never 
 looked more charming in her 
 life, laughed a merry little 
 laugh. "Really, Mr. Wilkes, 
 1 must be going. I cannot 
 stand here all day." 
 
 Then there came into his 
 eyes a wondrous look of yearn- 
 ing tenderness and almost des- 
 pair ; and as she was leaving the 
 room he cried after her, "Oh, 
 
 Lady Maid, may I not " 
 
 And Lady iEnid, who was just closing the door, looked 
 in for one moment, and with a twinkle in her rogiiijh eyes, 
 said demurely, " Ye^, Mr. Wilkes, you may ! " 
 
 She closed the door, and i:i a'^.other moment was gone. 
 
PART II.— THE YELLOW MAN WITH THE WHITE MONEY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SHOOTING PARTY IX THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 " CFO the Duke has really solc!*fchatsworth at last!" 
 
 (^y said Dick Milman to his companion, as the two 
 
 ^^ threw themselves down on the heather to rest after 
 having climbed a rugged brae. 
 
 ''Yes,", said his companion, Rawton Silvertongue, now 
 somewhat older and greyer ; " I heard the report at White's 
 just as I was leaving London. It made a great sensation. 
 Five years ag9, when it was first talked about, every one 
 said it was a bit of bluff, but it seems that he has really 
 been and gone and done it, as the cockneys say." 
 
 " I wonder why ? " said Milman. " He cannot be so hard 
 up as thai would imply." 
 
 " I don't know that," replied Silvertongue. " The Duke 
 has been pretty hard hit lately. One of his watering-places 
 on the south-east coast has been nearly empty for the last 
 year or two, owing to an alarm — a false alarm, I believe — 
 about the drains ; and the manufacturing town in the north, 
 on which he and his father had spent a little fortune, has 
 turned out to be a white elephant. His Irish estates, too, 
 have been a cause of endless trouble, and, on the whole, I 
 am not surprised that he should have jumped at the offer." 
 
 " Who is the buyer ? " asked Milman. 
 
 " Oh, heaven knows ! " said Silvertongue ; " and we shall 
 too, I suppose, in time. At present, all that is known is 
 that it has gone into tlie hands of the well-known wreckers 
 who for some time past have been picking up all the 
 valuable derelict mansions and bankrupt estates of our 
 aristocracy. Quite a flourishing business they have at 
 present — one of the few businesses which are flourishing 
 nowadays. I remember," he continued meditatively, " when 
 Christie's was the great resource of the impecunious- pesr. 
 Their famous auction-rooms were a kind of aristocratic 
 pawnshop, by which many a splendid pauper was kept on 
 his legs. But Christie's business has been badly hit lately, 
 as you might expect, from the working of that law which we 
 have borrowed from Italy, forbidding owners of art treasures 
 to sell them out of the country." 
 
 "Yes," said Milman, "and a pretty pass things have come 
 to to require such a law. I know at this present moment a 
 peer who sits shivering in the midst of half-a-ddzen Raphaels 
 which he is not allowed to sell, and which he cannot keep 
 from mouldering on the walls from sheer lack of pence with 
 which to buy the coals necessary to heat his castle." 
 
 " Well," said Silvertongue, " something had to be done ; 
 there was such a drain of curios to America and the colonies 
 that it would not have been loug before we should have 
 been cleared outi It is owing to this law that our country 
 places are still tolerably well furnished with articles of 
 vertu." 
 
 "Yes,'' said Milman, "and what is the result of that? 
 In place of Christie, who sold jewels, treasure, and 
 curios retail by auction, we have got this firm of wreckers 
 (an American and a Grerman — 'GrlogoW and Paulmann'), 
 who are doing so wholesale, not by auction, but by private 
 treaty. Chatsworth is only their latest acquisition; there, 
 is not a property of historic interest or of residential value 
 in the country that they have not offered to buy up. They 
 pay good prices too. How they do it I don't understand." 
 
 " But I do," said Silvertongue. " ' Glogoul and Faulmann' 
 have branches all over the East. Grlogoul lived somewhere 
 in China and is in the confidence of the whole Hebrew tribe in 
 Europe. They seem to have an unlimited supply of capital, 
 and wherever there is an ancient castle, or modern treasure 
 house, or stately palace, or charming estate in difficulties. 
 
 anywhere- in the three kingdoms, they are the- first -to hear 
 of it, and it is very seldom it escapes their clutches." 
 
 " Thej' are really," said Milman, laughing, " a kind of 
 liquidators of the British aristocracy, the unofficial receivers 
 of the estates of our ancient nobility. So the old order 
 changeth, giving place to the new." 
 
 - "Unfortunately," said Silvertongue, "it can hardly be 
 added that ' God is fulfilling Himself in many ways.' It is 
 playing the devil with the old social system, and I confess 
 I don't like the outlook." 
 
 ." Neither do I," said Milman ; " but we had better be 
 moving ; we have a long way to go before dusk." 
 
 The two men rose to their feet and stood for some time 
 admiring the, scenery which stretched around. They were 
 on the slopes of the hills .overlooking Glen Afiaric, in the 
 Western Highlands. In all the Highlands there are few 
 more romantic glens than that over which they were looking. 
 The popularity of the Trossachs will never be impaired as 
 long as " The Lady of the Lake " forms part of the favourite 
 reading of the English-speaking world. But some day 
 another poet may arise who will make Glen Afiaric and 
 Loch Duich as famous as the Wizard of the North made 
 Loch Katrine and Ellen's Isle. Then it will only need the 
 extension of the railway to Strathglas for the glens and 
 lochs" of Inverness to take their rightful place as the 
 crowning glory of Scotch mountain scenery. After a long 
 lingering glance over the valley they began with rapid steps 
 to descend the mountain side. 
 
 They had not proceeded far when they were joined by an 
 old Highlander, wearing the picturesque garb of his clan. 
 He was evidently an acquaintance, for he gave them both 
 friendly greeting, and the thi-ee proceeded down Glen Affario 
 towards Glen Cahnich. ^ 
 
 "We were talking," .said Silvertongue, "of the way in 
 which tlie old landed estates in England are being bought 
 up by the Jews and Gentiles." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the old Highlander, " the curse is coming 
 your way no*. It is no new thing with us ; and maybe that 
 now you see the misery and the curse of it at home, you will 
 have mbre sympathy with the Gaels, who have suffered the 
 same curse for more than a hundred' years." 
 
 " Dash me ! " said Silvertongue ; " it never struck me 
 
 before. But old Chisholm is right ; the Highland lairds 
 
 all went the way our peers are going. Here in this very 
 
 district we are in the heart of what used to be Hamper's 
 
 . country." 
 
 " Harmer ? " said Milman. " You mean the man of the 
 flying-machine ? " 
 
 " That very same," said Chisholm. " It was not 'so many 
 years ago that over 400,000 acres of this mountain land, 
 Stretching from sea to sea, there was no lord, or monarch, 
 or emperor who had more absolute power than this same 
 gentleman of whom you speak. Never was there such a 
 chase as that which lay under the shadow of his guns. Our 
 poor penniless lairds were very glad to let the forests to him 
 or to any other man who had the siUer, and Harmer, they 
 say, had enough to have rented the whole of the forest land 
 in the Highlands, and still to have more money in the bank 
 than he could count. At one time over these hills, from 
 which all the children of the mist have been driven to make 
 room for the stags, there roamed herds of deer which they 
 counted not by the tens, or the hundreds, or by the thou- 
 sands, but by the tens of thousands. Where the deer roam, 
 no man must put his foot. What are the rights of man to 
 live, compared with the lust of sportsmen to slay ? " 
 
 " But he paid for it, I suppose," said Silvertongue, " and 
 liberally ? From aU that I have heard, I beheve that your 
 
GLEX AFFARIC. 
 
A Shooting Party in the Highlands. 
 
 59 
 
 STRATHS 
 
 AKD, 
 
 GLENS 
 
 WERE 
 
 PEOPLED 
 
 "with 
 
 J r. 
 
 AKD 
 
 HABSY 
 
 BACK' 
 
 '■•'. . 
 
 } 
 
 
 Jtt- «.Uj"THBN THESE, 
 
 Hig-yand kirds 'taught' Mr. Harmer that it. was not only in 
 Aberdeen where aJ(ew;cannoti make hiS .living.. A .jiretty 
 penny he must /have jDaidiftir lawyers' .bills and coats ; and 
 all for -what?" . ■ . • ' ■• : " , ■.-' :-' . : 
 
 "They do say," said Chisholm,." that : first.. and; last he 
 must have idTojyped' more than a -quarter Lof a iiiilldon ,of 
 money in .this; Qountiy ;- and. with all his drives,: he, never 
 shot two hundred head of daSr in any single year. His deer 
 must have .cost- him about £100 a head— a. deal of money 
 for a,8tag! " , ' 
 
 "Yesj" said Silvertongue, "but it .was- his fancys and if 
 he once set bis mind upon a thing he would get it if money 
 could purchase it. He used to say that he had never met a 
 woman whom* he could not buy; and as it was with women, 
 so it was with land or with any other mortal thing." 
 
 " Was he much of a stalker ? " asked Milman. 
 
 " He a stalker ! " replied Chis- 
 holm contemptuously. " Can an. 
 elephant stalk? He could no- 
 more : stalk . than , the Prince of 
 Wales — for the. same reason. As 
 the Prince had his drives ia 
 the- Mar Forest; it was Hariher's- 
 ambition to do as bis Royal 
 Highness. That, they say, was 
 at the bottom of . all his work up 
 in these parts. He used to' say, 
 ' The Prince has a drive, once a 
 year, but I shall have a forest 
 big enough to have a .'drive, as 
 good as the Prince's . every, day 
 in the season;' and soherdid. 
 The Prince, poor. man, 'was not 
 rich enough to. affoid such a 
 luxury ; ' and as it was with the 
 Prince, so it seems -to be with 
 your nobles. . : Th.ey tried for a 
 time to ieep up with the 'rich 
 bankers, and -traders and million- 
 aires from America,' with tbe^ 
 result than thatr' one .after 
 another they have gone down 
 like cur Highland'- lairds, cand 
 the Lowlands will have to bear 
 what the- Highlands have borne 
 —the curse of the coining of the 
 plutocrat." .. . . — » 
 
 "Ob, con\6',: come ! " said Mil- 
 man, " it's all very well! io talk 
 about htm 'as beiiig a cui-sei but 
 he .pays his way,- and- very . liber- 
 ally too." 
 
 ■■ .'" He has money enough,". sb,i;} 
 old Chisholm, " and he is liberal 
 with it,- no .doubt; but has not 
 one of your own poets said — ' 
 
 f ,J 
 
 111 fares the land, to hastening^ 
 , illsa prey, „, . 5,; .,j . j. , 
 - Where wealth a<!cumulat^s,; and 
 
 ■ men dfeoay. ; l.j • " . p.pjo-i 
 
 Time was when these stratl3s,ftnd 
 
 .li . ., J -giejjs'jwere peopled .with a brave 
 
 A BRAVE and hardy race; where -are they 
 
 ,.; ,:.■ : ,noW'?;. Still jou can imck the 
 ■■'!:., site of their little crofts on the 
 - i . ' ; . ■ , hillsides by the superior yerdure 
 
 j' '. . , , of the", grass to which the deer 
 
 come iovfn in the winter time. Here and there you mjij' 
 see the ruins of their humble shielings and, traces 0;f.1i(ieir 
 gardens;^ But' -the- flowers of th,e forest are a' wae'd a^a', 
 and: the, brave men and fair women , -who for a thousand 
 years peopled tiie. glens have vanished like the mist of , the 
 morning." ....... , ■ ; , 
 
 The party now ireached the ," Strathfq,rpar Arms," where 
 they halted for refreshm.ent. After a brief r^t they turned 
 to the Jeft, up the hill which leads to the road_ through 
 G-len Gannich. On the hillside they met a- gillie coming 
 down, , whom Chisholm accosted. , " Have you Bnwlish ? " 
 he. asked. ... , , , , j ,. ■, ,. _ 
 
 " Yes," said the man, " but I -prefer Gaelic." 
 . . WJiUe the two were talking the younger men pursued their 
 journey. They admired the solitude and sombre magnificence 
 of the silent waste. With the exception of the gplie'a cottage. 
 
6o 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 which "they haH.jusf passed on their right, there was no sign 
 of habitafion visible. They pressed on until they came to 
 where the stream, running, through the glen widened into a 
 miniature lake, which lay like a mirror in the heart of the 
 valley. It was difficult to realise that it was water, for the 
 mountain on the further side was reflected in the tranquil 
 depths with such verisimilitude that the reality could 
 hardly have been more vivid. They sat down by the road- 
 side to enjoy the spectacle until such time as old Chisholm 
 should overtake them. In a few minutes he came striding 
 along. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " you are looking at the eye of the glen, 
 and you do well! Isn't it a pity, now, that a place so 
 beautiful should have been given over to the wilderness ? 
 Time was when in this solitary glen there were no fewer 
 than forty-five families living, and living comfortably, where 
 that giUie alone is left. Thirty-three farmers there were in 
 easy circumstances, and twelve cottage families besides. It 
 was a Catholic glen, when there was any one in it, and at 
 one time there were as many as nine priests in the Catholic 
 Church who were reared and educated in the glen. Now 
 the deer come down it the winter time to nibble the grass 
 around the deserted crofts. I can remember the time," con- 
 tinued the old man,. as they resumed their walk up the glen, 
 " when there were no fewer than twenty-six Glen Cannicli 
 men holding commissions in her Majesty's army. I s6me- 
 times wonder.whether, if the war clouds gathered round the 
 cliffs of Albion, and her enemies were to encompass her 
 around, it may not. come to pass that Britain may 
 look and long for her. Bighlandmen, and look and long in 
 vain. The recruiting sergeant would find small business in 
 Glen Cannich to-day," said he, with a bitter smile, " unless 
 he could enlist red deer and .corby crows as soldiers." 
 
 "It is .astonishing,", remarked Milmah, "how you come 
 across traces of these Highland officers all over the 
 Empire." 
 
 " There would have, been no Empire," said Chisholm 
 proudly, "without the Highlandmeu. A man from this 
 glen, died as Grovernor of the Gold Coast in Africa, and 
 half-a-dozen Macraes and Chisholms died in Gambia and 
 Sierra Leone, .the white man's grave. One died at Quatre 
 Bras in the last days of the great Napoleon. Very few have 
 laid their bones to rest among their native hiUs. These 
 ■glens are rough and rude, and the Highlanders were not 
 brought up on feather beds or with silver spoons in their 
 mouths ; but you will search in vain the crowded slums of 
 your teeming cities -for as stalwart a breed, and one as ready 
 to maintain the honour of their country and the safety of 
 their fatherland." 
 
 The friends were silent for a time, brooding over the 
 memories which the old man's narrative had awakened. 
 - - " And now," said Milman, " to whom does it belong ? " 
 
 " The forest," rephed Chisholm, " is divided. There is 
 no longer any lord among the deer like Harmer, although 
 h.3 still keeps a trifle of 50,000 or 60,000 acres as a kind of 
 preserve for the deer on the western coast, but he shoots no 
 more here, and the deer are free to live and breed as they 
 please. A couple of rich brewers take a large handful 
 of the land between them, a Jew baron has just taken 
 100,000 acres of forest on the east, and an American 
 millionaire is building a shooting-box a little further to the 
 north. They are only here for a few weeks in the year; 
 for the rest of the time the land is given up to the wUdemess 
 and the deer, with a few idle keepers and giUies sauntering 
 about to see that no child of man sets his foot where red 
 deer roam. And if I may ask 3'ou," said old Chisholm, 
 looking up suddenly, " where may you be going this after- 
 noon?" 
 
 " Oh, we are going through the glen," said Milman. " We 
 
 are going to Westlands Castle, but it will take us all our 
 time, for it is, some miles from here." 
 
 " It may be," said he, " they will be sending horses for 
 yoa. And so you are going to V/estiands ? Then maybe 
 you know the fair leddy who brought Westlands as her 
 dower to her husband — Lady Muritl Eastland that was." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Silvertongue. "I knew her before she' 
 was married." 
 
 " Lady Muriel," said Chisholm, " has a sweet face and a 
 good heart, and who knows but through her the curse may 
 pass that has hung for four generations over her family." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Milman. " Tou don't mean to say 
 that the Eastland family is under a curse ? " - 
 
 " Oh, I suppose you are like the rest of this sceptical 
 generation ; but we of the older race, who were cradled 
 among the glens and learned our creed among the moun- 
 tains, know that many things of which you in the Lowlands 
 make light, and even deny, do exist. But ever since the fatal 
 day when, more than a hundred years since, the then Duke 
 of Eastland made the clearance in Western Inverness, which 
 to this day glows like burning fire in the memory of every 
 Highlandman, there has been a curse on that family. As 
 in the days of the exodus, when Pharaoh would not let his 
 people go, the firstborn was slain, so it is to-day. No Duke 
 of Eastland has ever been succeeded by his firstborn for a 
 hundred years. Heaven forbid," said- the old man devoutly, 
 " that I, a sinful man, should spqak lightly concerning the 
 workings of God's providence ; but he would be worse thaii 
 a heathen and an infidel who could not see the awful work- 
 ings of Divine justice. When the Duke contemplated the 
 clearance by which he made a wilderness of this country, he 
 began by inducing the firstborn to enlist in the king's service ; 
 and he promised them, if they would go with their claymores 
 and their muskets to fight the battles of the king, their 
 famiUes should aye remain in secure possession of their little 
 crofts. But no sooner did these brave lads march off, with 
 the bagpipes playing and their eyes flUed with tears for the 
 dear ones they left behind them — no sooner were they scattered 
 far and wide over many a distant land, than the Duke 
 forswore his solemn word, and turned the grayhaired 
 grandsire and the widowed mother and the helpless child 
 out of their homes, and drove them aboard the ships which 
 carried them, the exiles of despair, far across the sea to Canada 
 and Australia. From that time to this the curse has never 
 left the family of the Eastiands, and never will imtil there 
 shall arise in Eastland Castle someone who will put the 
 people back upon the land from which they were driven, 
 and once more reclaim those glens from the sheep and the 
 deer, and gladden the sight of the wayfarer with the blue 
 peat reek rising from the crofter's cottage." 
 
 " Really," said Silvertongue, " have the firstborn always 
 died for a century ? " 
 
 " No Duke of Eastland has ever been succeeded by his 
 firstborn' for a century," said Chisholm ; " but it may be 
 that Lady Muriel, bless her bonny face, may break the evil 
 spell. I am a man of peace," said the old Highlander 
 thoughtfully ; " all war seems to me murder, but for us in 
 the Highlands there is such a thing as the curse of peace. 
 In the olden times, when clan was making war against clan, 
 and when every Highland chief for safety, as well as for 
 honour and glory, was bound to rear as many fighting men 
 as the land could raise, there was no fear of depopulation. 
 War peopled these glens and kept them full of a sturdy 
 breed; but when peace came, and the claymore was put 
 into its sheath, and men cared more for the yellow gold than 
 they did for their fellow man, then the curse fell upon the 
 land, and it was discovered that the land which could rear 
 and feed soldiers could not provide sufficient food fur 
 cultivators. Then the clearances came, and whole glens 
 
Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann. 
 
 6i 
 
 were made desolate, and one shepherd tended sheep where a 
 dozen farmsteads had found room enough and to sjsare. 
 Then the sheep niade way for the deer. It is as the prophet 
 saw it in other lands : ' the cormorant and the bittern possess 
 it; the owl also, and the raven d\^l in it; and He has 
 stretched out upon it a line of confusion and the stones of 
 emptiness. They call the nobles thereof to the kingdom, 
 but none are there, and all her princes are nothing. And 
 thorns come up in her palaces, nettles and brambles in the 
 fortresses thereof ; and it is an habitation of dragons and a 
 court for owls. The wild beasts of the desert meet with 
 the wild beasts of the island, and the screech owl also rests 
 there and finds for herself a place of rest. There the 
 vultures are gathered, every one with his mate.' " 
 
 Chisholm stopped abruptly. " And as it has been with 
 us," he said, " it will be with you. Of the curse which has 
 eaten into this land you also are to have your share." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MESSES. GLOGOTJL AND FAULMAXN. 
 
 tN a luxuriously-furnished suite of apartments in Pall 
 •«■ Mall we have the well arranged firm of Messrs. Glogoul 
 A and Faulmann, wi'eckers, as they describe themselves, 
 ', of the social system. It was in accordance with 
 Glogoull's cynical humour that he chose this term. In 
 reality, he used to say, " We ought to be called salvors. We 
 did not wreck the system. It was a crazy old craft, and 
 nothing could have saved it from the breakers to which it 
 had drifted." 
 
 Certainly the firm of Glogoul and Faulmann had done 
 nothing to bring it there. All that they did was to 
 endeavour to save as much out of the wreck as they could, 
 and to this laudable purpose they were devoting the whole 
 of their united wits. 
 
 Dr. Glogoul had aged somewhat since we left him as 
 locum tenens of the medical adviser at the hospital in 
 Garlam. He had carried out his intention, and had made 
 his way to China very shortly after the outbreak of the war 
 between China and Japan. He had not been three days at 
 Shanghai when he met an old college chum, who introdiiced 
 him to a young Chinese Mandarin of great repute and of 
 immense wealth, 'who was believed to be the coming ihan 
 under a new regime. 
 
 Ping Yang Taloo — for that was the name of the high 
 functionary to whom Glogoul was introduced— was a 
 man after Glogoul's own heart. No man could be more 
 destitute of those disagreeable impedimenta which people 
 who are stiU in their mythologies are fond of labelling moral 
 scruples. Ping Tang Yaloo was a Materialist of the 
 most uncompromising type. It did not even occur to him 
 that right and wrong, immortality and duty, were other 
 than mere phrases as meaningless as the names of the gods 
 of ancient Greece. They were pretty playthings, invented 
 by Western knaves for the purpose of cheating Western 
 fools. He was not a pure-bred Chinaman, but there was a 
 strain in him of a Portuguese half-caste, who had been the 
 concubine of his grandfather during his sojourn in Macao; 
 His eyes were not quite so oblique as the pure-bred 
 Mongolian, and the European strain in his blood allowed 
 him to assimilate Western ideas with greater facility than 
 would otherwise have been possible. 
 
 Such a man Dr. Glogoul was delighted to recognise as 
 the type for which he had been seeking. Ping Tang Talob 
 was equally pleased with Glogoul, although, being a man 
 of few words, he contented himself with appointing the 
 American speciaUst as medical director of the cotton factories 
 which he was then beginning to build. Ping Tang Taloo's 
 authority at Court was considerable, but it was nothing 
 
 compared with the absolute power he possessed as proprietor 
 and millionaire in the province in which he lived. Ping 
 Tang Taloo's word was law. Whom he would he slew, and 
 whom he would he saved ahvei In the two years during 
 which Glogoul served the Mand,ai;in as medical inspector, 
 he treated the whole of the unfortuhates of the province as- 
 raw material for his pathological experiments. On only one 
 occasion had he any trouble with his master. After a con- 
 siderable number of experiments, conducted with inex- 
 haustible patience, Glogoul succeeded in identifying the 
 bacillus of cholera, a,nd then introduced it into the well from 
 which the village of Cheekin drew its water supply. The 
 result was an epidemic of cholera, which carried off about 
 one-third of the population. Glogoul was in ecstasies ; but. 
 when Ping Tang Taloo found that' his rents had fallen off 
 by one-third, he gave orders for the instant decapitation of 
 the doctor. Fortunately for Glogoul, his college chum, who 
 
 PISG YAKQ YALOO. 
 
 was acting as private secretary to Ping' Tang Taloo, 
 explained that difficulties might result if Glogoul were- 
 beheaded,' and' he further pointed out the immense advan- 
 tage that would accrue to Ping Tang Taloo in the future, 
 now that he had a physician Sufficiently skilful' to poison a 
 whole village without ihcitrrihg any responsibility. Ping 
 Tang Taloo was mollified, recalled his order, but intimated 
 to Glogoul that experiments of such a wholesale nature had 
 better be conducted on neighbouring estates, not on those 
 which paid- him rent. Glogoul took the hint, and there- 
 was no further hitch. 
 
 He succeeded in discovering methods by which the 
 bacilli, not only of cholera, but of many other deadly 
 diseases, could be preserved in ice for an indefinite period, 
 and when thawed out Show no loss of vitality. It 
 was therefore perfectly easy for him to introduce an 
 epidemic wherever the population became too dense, or 
 wherever it was necessary to diminish the over-pressure of 
 the beds in any public hospital. 
 
 His zeal, however, for pathological research somewhat 
 cooled, and after a time he began to think that the Western 
 
62 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 ^jecialists, vfHomhe had previously held in'su'ch sovereign 
 contempt bebause they had forsaken research for money- 
 making, were, after all, wiser than their own generation. 
 
 "Pathotogy," he said to his friend on© day, "is .all very 
 well, but there's no money in it. I have arrived at a perfect 
 knowledge^ JOf the way to poison human bsings in twenty 
 different methods, without any risk of detection ; but, thanks 
 to the stupid prejudices of mankind, what use can I make of 
 this knowledge ? There is no millionaire, or philanthropist, 
 as far as I have seen, sufficiently emancipated from prejudice 
 to pay me millions for producing an epidemic in some great 
 over-crowded city, although it may hi demonstrated that 
 such an epidemic would contribute more to human progress 
 and social welfare than any other means devisable by man." 
 
 " Well," said his friend, "if poisoning bodies does not pay, 
 poisoning minds is profitable. When I left England, the 
 ■only investment that paid- 70 per cent, was the Empire 
 Theatre, which made its dividend by providing a prostitutes' 
 promenade and drinking-bar ; but a flinty-hearted County 
 ■Council refused its license, so that avenue of money-making 
 is closed. But what- do you say to the Stock Exchange ? " 
 
 " I never was a gambler," said Grlogoul. " Besides, I 
 should like to utilise the aptitude I have obtained by my 
 study of-human criminology in whatever profession I take 
 up. The dream of my life is to invent a new drink that 
 ■would be pleasanter t) taste than champagne, but would 
 intoxicate as rapidly as brandy, and would be as fatal as 
 opium. If I could discover that nectar of the gods, and 
 could hold it to the parched lips of poor, hard-driven 
 humanity, I should become as rich as a brewer, and, at the 
 same time, enjoy the- exquisite satisfartion of knowing, as I 
 watched the increase in the death-rate, that I was appreciably 
 diminishing the sum total of human misery." 
 
 " Get out with you ! " said his companion. " Precious 
 little you care about the misery'of the world, and although 
 cant may answer on the small scale, there is not enough 
 money in it to make it worth your while taking it up at your 
 age." 
 
 Ping Yang Yaloo's factories, meanwhile, were grovfing 
 apace. He had all the latest machinery brought from 
 England and America. He had almost at his back door a 
 great mountain of coal that simply required quarrying. A 
 whole province in the south was planted with cotton, under 
 the supervision of the ablest experts that couM be procured 
 "in the Southern States ; and Grlogoul could see plainly that 
 with the continued -fall in the value of silver, and the 
 enormous advantages in the shape of inexhaustible and cost- 
 less fuel, of soil almci^t virgin ;f or the preduetion of cotton, 
 and laiour whioh-could be had. at a penny per day. Ping 
 Yang Yaloo was destined to become the great cotton producer 
 of the. -v^orld. As he watched the factories going up, pne after 
 the, other,' and observed the finished ' product which issued 
 from the mills at prices far lower than that at. which it 
 could ^be shipped for export from' Manchester or Liverpool, 
 ■Glogoul saw daylight. 
 
 Shanghai would' burst up Lancashire. Ping Yang Yaloo 
 would be the cotton king of th_e world. In five yeai-s, 
 •Chinese cottons would dominate the English market in the 
 same' way that Indian wheat rules the .price of corn in the 
 English market. Lancashire mills would become as profitless 
 as Essex clay lands. 
 
 '■ The Yello-^, Man with the White, Money," said Glogoul 
 to his friend, ",is the. coming king. The -White Man with 
 the Yellow Money capnot stand against him for a moment. 
 Asia is going to be avenged on Europe. Already thelndian 
 Ryot is avenging the conquest of India by compelling his 
 conquerors to starve for want of employment in what used 
 to be the granary of England ; and to-morrow it will be the 
 
 turn of our pig-tailed friends. What with opium wars and" the 
 like, we have a tolerably lung score to wipe off before their 
 account is cleared. As India has ruined Essex, Shanghai will 
 crack up Lancashire, and when Lancashire is bur^t up, the 
 industrial supremacy of England vanishes. Henceforth, that 
 tight little island will have to reconcile itself as best it can to 
 its altered destinies. Its, Imperial. strength depends upon its 
 economic position. On the day that Ping Yang Yaloo under- 
 sells Manchester, and undersells her in the neutral market, 
 the British Empire will have gone up the spout. It is all as 
 plain, as the nose upon joxti face, and there ; will be the 
 greatest scramble the world has ever seen for the ■ assets of 
 John. Bull and Co., who will have to go into liquidation," 
 
 " Well," said his friend, " what are you going to do 
 about it?" 
 
 "Have you not read," said Dr. Glogoul mocl^ingly, 
 " where the carcase is there the eagles are gathered 
 together ? " 
 
 "I should have thought," said his friend, "the text 
 would have suited you better had it said vultures." 
 
 " The translation may be wrong. , Anyhow, I think I see 
 my way." 
 
 The next mail brought him a letter which convinced hini 
 that he was right. It was' from his old .acquaintance, 
 Faulmann, of the Patent White Lead Works., Paulmann 
 had' been much impressed with Glogoul's smartness, with 
 the quickness of -his perception, and his absolute lack 
 of scruple. When, therefore, the scandalous .Turkish 
 monopoly was cancelled, and the Patent White Lead 
 Company- closed its works,- Mr. Faulmann , found himsplf 
 with ample capital at his disposal, and -w-ithout any 
 opportunity, calling or. profession in which to utilise his 
 restless energies. - His observations in Blankshire had 
 convinced him that the landed interest was -practically on 
 the, verge of liquidation. What with . mortgages, settle- 
 ments, encumbrances of all kinds, it was impossible, with 
 wheat at ISs. a quarter, and tending downwards, for the 
 landed aristocracy to keep their heads., abpye . water. 
 The wreck of the whole system was only a question of a 
 very few years. . - 
 
 At the same time, the astute Paulmann was not blind to 
 the immense residential advantages of these immense estates 
 which were certain to be thrown on the market. . The idea 
 struck him that if he, could find a partner^ it would be 
 possible for them to form a salvage syndicate for the purpose 
 of buying up all th.e possessipns of the landed interest as they 
 came upon, the market. Paulmann had extensive connections 
 on the Continent and. in. the Republic among, rich Jew 
 financiers, who regarded this country as a new and better 
 Land of Canaan, owing to the absence of any social pre- 
 judices and the justice of our laws. , But Paulmann was quite 
 cute enough to see that the money power of the future was 
 to be found, not in the West, but in the East, where China 
 and Japan, at a bound, had reached a leading position among 
 the great powers, and wpre competing keenly on equal terms 
 in the markets of the world. India had long commanded 
 the wheat market, and her producers were already beginning 
 to make their influence felt in America and Europe. The 
 African trade Bombay had almost entirely annexed, but the 
 great power, of the future was China, with its vast and 
 undeveloped resources. This great colossus had. been rudely 
 awakened from the sleep of ages by the thunder-hammer of 
 war, and the millionaire of the future, in Faulmann's 
 opinion, was much more likely to be found on the banks of 
 the Yellow River than by the side of the Hudson, or on the 
 shores of Lake. Michigan. 
 
 ^ "Nothing can stand against us," said he, "as long as 
 silver stands at its present ratio to gold. The Yellow man 
 
A Dinner Party at Westlands Castle. 
 
 63 
 
 ■with his dejpreciated silver will beat the'White man with' 
 his appreciated go'd clean out of the field. If, therefore, I 
 have to undertake the liquidation of the landed interest, I 
 must have, as a parlner, some one who knows the Yellow 
 World." 
 
 Suddenly he remembered his ora acquaintance, G-logoul. 
 Griogoul had gone to China. Glogoul, he had reason to know 
 from occasional items in the papers, had found a domicile in 
 the country of the greatest of all Mandarins of the new school. 
 Glogoul, then, was the very man he wanted. 
 
 It was Faulmann's fashion to lose no time when he had 
 made up his mind, and the very next mail carried out to 
 Glogoul a long letter, setting forth the financial advantages 
 which lay within the grasp of a syndicate which was placed 
 a clieval of the two continents, in touch with the moneyed 
 Semites of Europe, and the coming millionaires of China, 
 India and Japan. 
 
 When Glogoul got the letter he read it through, and then 
 went down to his friend. 
 
 " Thompson," he said, " you do not believe in Providence 
 any more than I do ; but, if we were still in our mythologies, 
 what would you say to that as a Providential sign-post ? " 
 
 Thompson read the letter carefully, glanced at the sig- 
 nature, and handed it back to Glogoul. 
 
 " Smart fellow that," said he. 
 
 " Yes," said Glogoul. " Got a telegram form ? " 
 
 His friend handed him a blank cablegram, which Glogoul 
 filled in. 
 
 " What are you saying ? " 
 
 Glogoul read out — " Accept. Leave next mail." 
 
 And thus it came to pass that the great firm of Glogoul 
 and Fauhnann was established, and, as might be expected, 
 considering the character of the partners, it flourished 
 exceedingly. A very lucky deal with two or three 
 heavily encumbered estates, which were desired by a 
 certain baron of the Bourse with whom Faulmann had 
 dealings in old time, enabled them to start in business, with 
 a prestige, and a capital which they very soon multiplied 
 many -times. To them the impecunious noble, and 
 heavily mortgaged landlord went as their only hope. The 
 " Splendid Paupers " cursed them in their hearts as a 
 couple of villains, but were compelled to admit that no native 
 firm would ■ pay them anything like the price that , they 
 could get from Glogoiil and Faulmann. They did 
 business ■with, high and low, rich and poor, and it was 
 a standing joke of Faulmann's that he would never be 
 content until he had bought Sandringham. He had a friend 
 in Constantinople, he said, an Armenian Pasha, who had 
 taken a great fancy to the place, and as soon as His Eoyal 
 Highness was ready to part, he had a purchaser ready. 
 Indeed, it might be said that this was true concerning 
 almost every country house in the kingdom. Famous 
 old castles like Alnwick, lordly pleasure-houses like Dun- 
 robin, romantic halls like Haddon, and famous historic 
 palaces like Warwick Castle, were all marked in the record 
 list. They had purchasers ready waiting for all those 
 properties, and more besides.. Famous-piotureiigaHeries, . 
 libraries which had been accumulated by the patient labour 
 and lavish expenditure of "generations ; priceless heirlooms, 
 and all the innumerable treasures which wealthy nobles 
 had been accumulating for centuries, were disposed' of 
 beforehand in anticipation. Hence, the moment ite was 
 announced that the -Duke had. sold Chatsworth, every one 
 knew that the sale must have been eflected through Glogoul 
 and Faulmann. 
 
 And so it was ; at this moment Messrs. Glogoul and 
 Faulmann were the • undisputed owners of Chatsworth 
 Palace;, and not of ■ Chatsworth merely, but of all the 
 
 Duke's' estates in Derbyshire.' Hard witke Hall went' with 
 Chatsworth ; of all the. broad acj-es which the Duke owned 
 in Derby there did not remain to: him , one, with the 
 exception of the narrow, jjlot which; lay 'behind the .church 
 on the hill at Edensor where the Cavendishes lie buried. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY AT VVESTLANDS CASTLE. 
 
 ■ESTLANDS CASTLE was always full of, visitors in- 
 September. Sir Artegal Haddon and Lady Muriel — 
 for Sir Artegal had married the only ds^ughtey of 
 the Duke of Eastland, and by her had come into 
 possession of the Highland property of Westlands — ^kept. 
 much company then. Westlands Castle was charmingly 
 situated on the western coast of Inverness. At first sight 
 the castle, with its quaint turrets and picturesque contour, 
 suggested to the observer that Abbotsford had suddenly 
 been caught up from the banks of the Tweed and set down 
 perfect and complete on the edge of the Atlantic surge. A 
 closer examination showed that Westlands had a beauty all 
 its own, and an antiquity to boot to which Abbotsford could 
 lay no claim. From of old the castle had been the central 
 citadel of the feudal aristocracy in northern Scotland. ■ 
 
 The traditions of the aristocracy, of ancient nobles 
 linked to the soil by the close ties of tradition and of service, 
 had lingered longer in Westlands than elsewhere in the island. 
 The laird and his lady , were for all practical purposes the king 
 and, the queen of the di&triot in which they resided. For 
 generation after generation the Highlander tending ,his gheep 
 or tilling his little croft in the west could see no personage 
 on the horizon that loomed more largely than th^ proprietor 
 of Westlands. Although of late years the spirit, of unrest 
 and of revolt had spread among the crofters in, the district, 
 and they had signified their independence, by returning a 
 candidate of their own, in opposition to a scion of tlie noble 
 house, there.was nevertheless deep in the hearts of the people 
 a conviction that in times of stress, or when duty called, 
 or danger there was no living man around whom they would 
 rally with such oonfideuoe as the heir to the traditions and 
 the glopes of Westlands. .. ,,,, ,, 
 
 Sir Artegal Haddon, who by marriage had eijtered into 
 the circle of this curipus survival of medisevalism, preserved 
 beneath a somewhat cynical demeanour a keen susceptibility 
 to all that was rornantic and glorious in the; associations 
 which surrounded his new position. Although Conservative 
 and aristocratic by lineage and conviction, he ha^ a -perfectly 
 open mind. To him all governments were more or -less a 
 pis allei — necessary evils of which the Tyise man "would 
 make the best. There was a certain dash of the Prince of 
 Denmark in his character, but only a dash, for nothing was 
 further from his resolute and chivalrous character. than the 
 habitual indecision of Hamlet. If we must look for his 
 prototype in the fields of poetic romance, we shall find, the 
 original rather in the splendid picture which Spense^.has 
 given of Sir Artegal, the Knight of Justice, in thejdeathless 
 pages of the " Faerie Queen." There was a frank: simplicity 
 about his noble :naturg whicji endeared hjm to his friends, 
 and even his political opponents admitted grudgingly that, 
 although he: was ' horxifely' mistaken- in all his political 
 opinions, they always knew where to find Sir Artegal, and 
 that his devotion to :the public vi^elfare was neyer affected 
 by a single thought of his own personal interest. 
 
 In Lady Muriel Sir Artegal had found ajiartner well fitted 
 to supplement his character and to redress the balance which 
 in his own case was somewhat overweighted by a philosophie 
 scepticism. . Lady Muriel was young, beautiful and enthu- 
 siastic. Although born in the south country, she was always 
 in synipathy a daughter ot the Highlands. Just as Lady 
 
64 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 Aberdeen, transplanted to Ireland, became more Irish than 
 the Irish, so Lady Muriel, transplanted from Blankshire to 
 Inverness, became more Gaelic than the Gaels. 
 
 She was young, but frail, for her physique was the very 
 antithesis of the flamboyant vigour - and . rude health of her 
 friend Lady ^nid, whose marriage with Mr. Edmund 
 Wilkes had taken place in 1896. Born to great possessions, 
 she exercised 
 her queenly pre- 
 rogatives with 
 the unconscious- 
 ness of nature. 
 Not a cotter in 
 all her broad 
 domains was less 
 affected than she, 
 nor did any one 
 make friends or 
 acquaintances 
 feel more in- 
 stantly at their 
 ease than the 
 chatelaine of 
 Westlands. 
 Although barely 
 out of her teens, 
 she discharged 
 all the delicate 
 and arduous 
 duties as head 
 of the numerous 
 household which, 
 with guests, 
 servants and 
 retainers, Seldom 
 fell short -of a 
 hundred persons, 
 with a skill and 
 an absence of 
 strain which is 
 the crowning 
 distinction of the 
 experienced 
 matron. The 
 wheels of all the 
 business of the 
 castle ran 
 exce e ding 
 
 smoothly, and an \ 
 atmosph ere' 
 
 brooded over the 
 place, pervading 
 its almost regal 
 hospitality with 
 a sense of simple 
 comfort often 
 lacking in such 
 establishments. 
 
 Of all her 
 
 mnumerable guests there were few whom she did not 
 make to feel that their coming was a separate and distinct 
 pleasure to herself; and within a narrow circle, mostly 
 among the young men who were coming on, she ex- 
 ercised a subtle influence of inspiration which to many of 
 them was almost as a si^ell from another world. But it 
 was in her county, among the clansmen and crofters whose 
 ancestors had formerly followed the Dukes of Eastland to 
 battle, that she appeared at her best. 
 
 Half undonsciously, led by a divine instinct, she set 
 
 herself to realise the prayer of the Nazarene for His disciples 
 that they might have life, and have it more abundantly, for 
 the humble and industrious population which lived in frugal 
 independence on the Westland hills. To vary the monotony 
 of their existence, to increase their niaterial resources, and to 
 give them a fresh interest in life, she founded the Eural 
 industries Society, which brought her into close and human 
 
 relationship with 
 almost every 
 crofter and 
 crofter's wife in 
 the county. She 
 sympath ised 
 with their aspira- 
 tions, and was the 
 common nerve 
 centre through 
 which they all 
 communicated 
 with each other 
 and learned to 
 understand that 
 they all were 
 members one of 
 another. , It was 
 with Westlands 
 under Lady Mu- 
 riel as it was in 
 the Vision of Sir 
 Launfal : — 
 
 The caBtle gate stirndB 
 open now, 
 
 And the wanderer is 
 welcome toltie Hall. 
 # « « « 
 
 The meanest serf on 
 Sir Launfal's land 
 
 Has hall and bower at 
 his command : 
 
 And there's no poor 
 man in i^e ^'ulth 
 Countree 
 
 But is lord of the earl- 
 dom as much as he. 
 
 On the night 
 on which Silver- 
 tongue and 
 Milman arrived 
 at the castle after 
 their long walk, 
 there was a mis- 
 cellaneous 
 assemblage of 
 guests, chiefly 
 young .peo.ple, 
 whose talk was 
 of stags and of 
 the delights, of 
 outdoor life. At 
 first. Lady Muriel 
 had been somewhat pained by the continual talk about 
 stags killed ; but she had overcome that pardonable weak- 
 ness of human nature, and listened with the apparent ardour 
 of a schoolgirl to the thousandfold variant of how some noble- 
 stag was brought down by the bullet of Ms pursuer. Yet 
 sometimes a far-away, wistful, yearning look would creep over 
 her features, until, as one of her enthusiastic admirers declared, 
 you could see an angel look out from her lambent eyes. Sir 
 Artegal was a deer-stalker with the best of them, and it cost 
 him no effort to keep up his interest in the conversation. 
 
 LADY MUKIEL, SEEING HIM ENTEK, AT ONCE CAME FOEWAKD. 
 
A Dinner Party at Westlands Castle. 
 
 65 
 
 . Sterling, who was one of the party, had never fired a gun 
 in his life, and found some difficulty in concealing the fact 
 that the continual talk of slaughter hored him. He remarlved 
 on the opposite side of the table a lady of great vivacity and 
 of striking features, whose high smrits and pleasant chatter 
 seemed to diffuse an atmosphere rolfnd her end of the table 
 which did not derive all its glow from the zest of the chase. 
 "When dinner was over, and the ladies had retired, Sterling 
 took an early opportunity of leaving the table, where the 
 conversation was now almost entirely devoted to deer, in 
 order to follow the ladies. Lady Muriel, seeing him enter, 
 at once came forward. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. T Sterling, I wish particularly to introduce 
 you to Madame Olga. To tell you the simple truth," 
 added Lady Muriel in an aside, " I do not think I could 
 have prevailed upon her to come so far north except- 
 ing to' see ' you. She is political to her finger-tips, and 
 when she heard you were coming she put off all other 
 engagements." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," said Sterling. " In fact, I came 
 in purposely to ask you this favour." 
 
 In a few minutes Sterling and Madame Olga were 
 merrily chatting as if they had known each other from 
 childhood. They had so many friends in common that it 
 was a marvel that they had never met before. 
 
 " I really believe," she said, " that you must purposely, 
 have kept out of my way." 
 
 " Surely you do not think that I could be so foolish ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she said archly. " Sometimes there is a. 
 greater compliment in avoiding than in seeking acquaintance. 
 I know one of your Ministers who for years made it quite a 
 duty to avoid meeting me. He seemed to find out by some 
 kind of instinct whenever I was invited to a dinner-party he 
 was asked to attend, for of course I was as anxious to meat 
 him as he was to avoid meeting me. But, invariably, just 
 before the dinner-party assembled, our host received a letter 
 from the Minister saying that owing to flie serious indisposi- 
 tion of his wife the dear man was regretfully obliged to ask 
 to be excused." j ■ 
 
 " Wives are convenient sometimes," said Sterling. 
 
 " Yes," said Madame Olga, " especially when they, recover 
 as rapidly as they fall ill. But tell me; is it true that you 
 are at last being devoured by the Jews? They have eaten 
 up Austria entirely ; there is not. a morsel. left. France is 
 almost as bad, and in Germany they are in vain endeavouring, 
 to stem the tide. Now I hear that your country is dis- 
 appearing down the voracious throat of the insatiable 
 Semite." 
 
 " I don't know," said Sterling ; " we are passing under the 
 regime of the plutocrat, but all plutocrats are not Jews." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Lady Muriel ; " have you heard, the 
 story about Chatsworth ? " . , . , ' 
 
 "What," said Madame Olga, "that spfendid palace in- 
 Derbyshire ? It has not gone to the Jews, has it ? " 
 
 " No," said Lady Muriel, " worse than that." 
 
 " That caimot be," said Madame Olga. 
 
 " What would, you say to a Chinaman ? " 
 
 " What, a yellow man with a pigtail ! WeU, come, that is 
 rather worse. The Jew at least is a Theist, whereas your 
 picturesque barbarian from China— well, what has he to do 
 withChatsv^orth?" 
 
 " I have just had a letter from my cousin the Duchess, who 
 tells me that a horrible rumour is circulating to iihe effect^ 
 that Chatsworth, which as you know was some "time ago 
 bought by Crlogoul and Faulmann, the estate agents, has.; 
 been sold by them to a Chinese Mandarin of iminense- 
 wealth." 
 
 " With half-a-dozen wives, I suppose," said a lively young 
 lady, who evidently found ten hours' salmon fishing in a 
 
 mountain stream insufficient " to exhaust her nervous 
 energy. 
 
 "As for polygamy,'' said tlie Russian disdainfully, 
 " that is a mere phrase. But a Chinese Mandarin -as 
 the lord of , Chatsworth ! —that will produce some interest-, 
 ing complications indeed. I declare," she' added briskly, 
 "it is a new argument iu support of my favourite theme, 
 the Anglo-Russian alliance. Ever since the Japanese took 
 Korea -" 
 
 " And you the province of Manchuria ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, never mind," she said ; " but ever since tb3.t 
 time it has seemed to me that the Chinese factor cqnstitiited: 
 a new and powerful .argument in favour of the Anglo- 
 Russian alliance. They will eat us up, these barbarians, 
 unless we stand together. -' United, we conquer; divided, we 
 fall. It is a good juaxim, is it. not?. And^npw that the. 
 (Celestial has encampel himself in the very centre of Epglaod,. 
 the truth will bsgiil to c'om'e home to you. : Do you not 
 think so ? " she asked. ' 1 . . , 
 
 " I don't know," said ' Sterling gloomily ; " it is an ugly 
 development." .' : , . , . , 
 
 " But why,'' said the Russian, " why should the Duke 
 have sold a palace" which is not only an heirloom but a 
 museum of heirlooms ? " ■ , ■ , ■ 
 
 "The Duke has been very badly ! hit of late. Ever 
 since the new death duties were imposed in 1894 they 
 seem to have .-preyed .upon, his .mind,, and. .the .bad times 
 through which we are passing seem to have convinced, 
 him that in justice to- his 'heir he jJiust' rid himself uf 
 encumbrances." .... .4 . , ■ -- ,. , ■ ^ 
 
 " We are talking about the sale of Chatsworth,'' said 
 Lady Muriel to her husband, who nqw .joined the party., ' 
 
 " Oil, yes," said he, "that is bad indeed. Haye y<Ju heaTd 
 who the purchaser is ? " , ' ■ ■ ' 
 
 " My cousin wrote , and told me," said , Lady Muriel,- 
 " that it was a Mandarin of some outlandish name — Ping, 
 Yang Yaloo, I think," 
 
 ", S^ot the great Mandarin who has.broken Lancashire ? " . 
 
 "I think so," said Lady Muriel. "Yes," she added,, 
 producing the ,lettsi\ " IJing Yang,'Yalo6. ■' But do you know 
 anything about him ? " she said, looking anxiously from her.- 
 husband to Sterling.", 
 
 "Oh, yes,! hte is; the greatest millionaire in the world. 
 Neither, the Rothschilds nor the Yaiiderbilts can compare 
 with him. He is the modern colossus of finance." 
 • i, " An(^ he has bought Ghatfe^orth ? ". said Sir Artegal. ■ 
 
 " Such is the report iu London," said Muriel ; " it has. 
 produced quite .a sensation." 
 
 " Naturally," said . Sir. Artegal. " I wonder how our 
 constitution -will, stand the. strain of such a new element ? " 
 . "But,". persisted' Madame Olga, "why should the Duke, 
 aetl Chatsworth, of all places in the' world ? It is good land 
 close to great populations.' If there- was any laAd worth 
 keeping, I should have thought" that this was." ' 
 ,: "No," said Sterhng, "you don't know what Chatsworth 
 ineans. Of coiirse Ping .Yang Yaloo will, ilaake it wortli 
 his while, for he will run Chatsworth on commercial, 
 principles, as he runs his cotton-mills, working his opera- 
 tives eighteen hours a day, and feeding them upon a 
 Handful of rice.; But Chatsworth has been a white elepha'nt 
 to the Duke." 
 
 ''But how ? I do not understands" ; 
 , ,"-1 will tell yx)u a. story," said. .Sterling.. "Some years 
 ago an American and a Sheffield Radical were discussing) 
 the , iin'famies of our presfent ' social system. They were 
 abusing the landed interest, and the American, by way of. 
 giving poiat to his arguments, said, ' For instance, there is 
 the Duke at Chatswor A ; what an outrage for one man to 
 own so many acres ! ' ' Stop I stop I ' said the Radical ; 
 
 P 
 
66 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 'you mustn't meddle with him. 'J'ha"- i» aijuther- matter; 
 the Duke keeps Chatsworth up for us. ' " 
 
 " What do you mean by that V " asked Madanie Olga. 
 
 " Simply this, that the general public has much more use 
 out of Chatsworth than the nominal owner. Some time 
 ago I was over in Derbyshire, and made some inquiries as 
 to how things actually stood. I found that about fifty 
 thousand people were yearly admitted to the house and 
 groimds at Chatsworth. The total rent of the Chatsworth. 
 estate was £12,000 a year, and the outlay for keeping up 
 the house and the general management of the estate was 
 no less than £21,000. That is to say, Chatsworth at that 
 moment represented an annual loss to the Duke of £9,000 a 
 year." 
 
 Madame Olga shrugged her pretty shoulders. " A loss of 
 £9,000 a year ; that would be interest on half ■ a million of 
 roubles." " ' , 
 
 "Does your cousin say," -asked- Sir Artegal, "how much 
 1 ing Yang has paid for Chatsworth ? " . ■ 
 
 "The actual suiii is . not known," said Muriel, " but it is 
 sujiposed to be not less than a million." 
 
 " What madness ! — a inillion sterling for property which 
 yields £9,000 a year less-than nothing'! " 
 
 " Yes," said Sterling ; " but you must rememlier that the. 
 new owner is not likely to maintain Chatsworth for tlie 
 benefit of the public. He is not likely to be better in this, 
 re.spect than Mr. Walledoff showed himself to be in Berk- 
 shire." - 
 
 "Oh, by-the-bye,". said -Wiikes,- who- had hitherto been, 
 silent, " that reminds me. Have you heard what Wall-ed(5ffi 
 proposes to do ? " '. ' i ■ ' ' . ' . ■ ' 
 
 " No," said every one. \ . . .'. 
 
 "He has bought npall the land ok the other side of the 
 Thames for about" five miles — in fa!ct, all the land which' 
 marches with Windsor Forest, and he d.ecla':-es, that "he w^ill 
 turn the whole country, into a deer park. He cannot bear 
 to see so much smoke from his windows, ami tenant-farmers, 
 cottagers, and viUa residents alike have received notice 'to 
 quit." ; ' 
 
 " Upon my word," said Milman, " that "Walledoff is a" 
 veritable William the Conqueror." - . . 
 
 " Yes, and we unfortunate wretches," • said Sterling, " are 
 very much like the Saxons after the battle of Hastings, 
 without even having had a fair stand-up fight for our 
 Fatherland." 
 
 "Why are you so grave?" said Mr. Wilkes, as he 
 noticed a cloud, on Lady Muriel's brow. 
 
 They turned away from the grouii which had gathered: 
 round Madame Olga, and retired to a recess. . ' 
 
 " I don't know," she replied ; " it seems to me very cruel, 
 this incoming of the money power. I suppose it is a 
 vengeance for our sins. We have allowed tlie jieojile to be 
 divorced both from the soil and from their natural leaders, 
 and now both are powerless before the money power. But 
 bad as things are, men of our order have no reason to make 
 them worse. I cannot understand great nobles degrading 
 themselves to the level of hucksters, and selling their 
 heirlooms to any pigtailed barbarian or Amerirun millionaire 
 who may offer them a sufficiently splendid bribe." 
 
 " The principle oi. noblesse oblige will not carry too much 
 •strain," Wilkes said lightly, "and here is a great temptation, 
 to realise on part sufficient to save the rest. By-the-bye, 
 have I ever told you what we have done on our estate at 
 Six Elms?" 
 
 "No," said Lady Muriel, "I have often w(jndered how 
 you reconcile " She stopped with some embarrassment. 
 
 " You mean," he said, " how I reconcile my Socialistic 
 convictions with my new position. I did not find it difficult 
 at all ; on the contrary-, a landed proprietor in our day has 
 
 better means of realising Socialistic ideas than any one I know. 
 jEnid is enthusiastically at one with me in this, and we have 
 every reason to.be pleased with the success which has so far 
 attended our efforts." 
 
 " Do tell me what you have done," said Lady Muriel. 
 
 " As you know, my father died very shortly after my 
 marriage, and I was left with a very handsome fortune i-n 
 the funds. The Six Elms estates, although yielding a net 
 loss, were nevertheless comparatively unencumbered. As soon 
 as we settled down we decided to see what could be done, 
 towards converting our tenantry .into viitual proprietors, 
 while at the same time we retained the advantages of the, 
 old system." 
 
 "That," said Lady Muriel, " is what we are all trying to 
 do ; but to eat your cake and have it is not even vouchsafed 
 to the gods." 
 
 "I think we have done it," said Wilkes. "It is very 
 simjjle.. Our land is fortunatel}' suitable for small holdings. 
 They had been there in old times, but had been consolidated 
 into.large farms, and had mostly been thrown upon our hands, 
 and were being worked by our bailiffs at an annual loss.. 
 AVe decided to cut them up into sma'l holdings wherever 
 the laud was suitable for the purpose, and they were let to 
 investors on the following tei-ms : — We followed the Ame ■ 
 rican and colonial example in allowing the principle of free 
 selection, ^subject to pur veto. The land was let out in plots, 
 varying froin three to twenty acres. These were put up to. 
 public tender, giving preference to reputable men who lived 
 on the estate.. It was 'a condition of every such tender that 
 the tenant must .piit up farm, buildings and a house of a 
 certain standard, the capital being advanced by me for that 
 purpose 'at five per cent, interest. . If these buildings are not 
 put up in-twelve months the lot becomes vacant, and is again 
 put up to public tender. Every tenant after having erected 
 his buildings is given his lease, which practically gives him 
 perpetual tenure of the land, subject to certain stipulations. 
 The lots have to be kept up to a certain standard of cultiva- 
 tion. „. The leases run in terms of. ten years, but are to he 
 renewed, as a matter of course, unless there has been, 
 failure to comply with the conditions. Holdings are not 
 to be mortgaged,;' nor are they to be used for har- 
 bouring poachers . or bad characters, or for the sale of- 
 drink. Subject to these conditions, each of our tenants has 
 an indefeasible title- to his holding, without any fear of being 
 disturbed." 
 
 "But," said Lady Muriel, sceptically, " did you find any- 
 body, to -take. yoiir. holdings on tbose. terms ? " 
 
 " Our only difficulty was the number of the applicants ; 
 and many of the tenders offered rents which we did not think 
 that the land, could bear, and which we refused to take." 
 
 " How did you .p'ovide for fluctuations V" 
 
 " Oh, it was stipulated that at the end of every year the; 
 
 rent should' be re-aitanged, in accordance with the average 
 
 , selling price of the articles produced on the estate. If tiie. 
 
 ' prices went up, the rents should go \\]) pro rata, and if they 
 
 fell, they should also failure rata." 
 
 "Supposing a peasant wished to leave, could he sell his 
 lease ? " 
 
 " In case of a change of tenure, the present propi ietor 
 could sell his interest in the land to any eligible successor to 
 whom the lease would be transferred by the landlord on 
 similar terms ; but we reserve a veto on the incoming 
 tenant. I must not omit to tell you, however, the chief 
 feature of the new settlement. AVe calculated what the 
 value of the laud was at the highest honest estimate thai, 
 could be put upon it when we succeeded to the estate. It 
 was very low, for the land was not merely unletable, but; 
 entailed an annual ex]ienditure in order to keep it from 
 deteriorating iuto wa-te land. We had it carefuliy valued by 
 
A Political Plot. 
 
 67 
 
 three different valuers, and agreed to accept tlie mean between 
 the three as the actual value of the land at the moment when 
 it came into our hands. To these we added the total sum 
 advanced for putting up farm biuldings, lumping the two 
 together. For the sum advanced fo^uildings the tenants pay 
 us five per cent., of which at least one per cent, is spent in 
 keaping the buildingvs in repair. That leaves us four per cent. 
 If you take the value of a holding at £100, and the buildings 
 upon it at £200, we receive on an average £7 10 j. rent . this 
 makes the total 
 charge on a ten 
 acre plot £17 10s. 
 £2 10s. is sp3nt 
 on repairs, 
 leaving us £15 
 a year. Now, we 
 calculated that 
 we could borrow 
 £300 at three per 
 cent. This leaves 
 us £6 a year 
 margin to be used 
 as a sinking fund 
 in paying off the 
 capital. By this 
 means we con- 
 sider that we 
 shall have real- 
 ised the whole 
 of our capital, 
 both for rent 
 and for improve- 
 ments, in twenty 
 years. At the 
 end of that time 
 it is arranged, 
 instead of trans- 
 ferring the free- 
 hold of the land 
 and the im- 
 provements to 
 the tenants, that 
 they shall con- 
 tinue to pay the 
 £17 108. as at 
 present ; but the 
 whole of the 
 anoney will be 
 paid over to the 
 Belsover Trust, 
 rwhich will con- 
 -.sist of one person 
 aiamed by the 
 Jandlord, one by 
 the tenants, and 
 another chosen 
 *y the other two. 
 This trust will 
 
 then take our jilace, and will be responsible for seemg 
 that the conditijns of the lease are maintained, and 
 that the annual charge is readjusted every year, 
 according to the rise and fall of agricultural . produce, 
 and that the revenue should be available for the common 
 interests of the estate, such as the maintaining of pedigree 
 stock, providing capi.al for creameries, co-operative estates, 
 land banks, agricultural schools, etc., etc. In short, we 
 hold that it is possible by such an arrangement to bind 
 together the peasants on an estate in a self-protecting 
 co-operative association that would have all the benefits of 
 
 socialism and all the advantages of feudahsm. The scheme 
 has only beefi three years in active operation, but so far as 
 we have gone we have been perfectly satisfied, and it has 
 worked admirably. It is certainly better than the alternative 
 sclieme in Ireland, where the land remains in the hands of 
 the present peasant proprietor, who mortgages it as far as he 
 can and provides no common fund for the development and 
 improvement of the estate." 
 
 The merry laugh of Madame Olga interrupted the con- 
 versation. It was 
 getting late, and 
 they rose to join 
 the group of 
 which she was 
 the animated 
 centre. 
 
 "Oh, your 
 schemes, Mr. 
 Wilkes,^ are very 
 good — very good, 
 and no doubt 
 they will make 
 some improve- 
 ment ; but if you 
 think they are 
 going to banish 
 sin and misery 
 from this planet, 
 you forget one 
 reason why it 
 was created." 
 
 "And what 
 may that be?" 
 inquired Sir 
 Artegal. 
 
 "It is a kind 
 of penal settle- 
 ment for the 
 punishment of 
 erring spirits 
 who, in some 
 other existence, 
 have deserved 
 being condemned 
 to a life here; 
 and if you make 
 this world too 
 comfortable 
 you will sim- 
 ply shift the 
 penal settle- 
 ment to another 
 planet." 
 
 "W hat a 
 gruesome idea," 
 said a young 
 lady; "why, if 
 that really 
 
 " THE DEVIL ! " CRIED DK. GLOGOtJL. 
 
 be so this' world would certainly be a hell." 
 " No, not hell ; purgatory," said Madame Olga. 
 
 IV. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 A POLITICAL PLOT. 
 
 'he Devil!" cried Dr. Glogoul, with a long 
 
 whistle, 
 
 as he threw a letter which he had just received 
 
 ^^ from Shanghai over to his partner, Mr. Paulmann. 
 
 Faulmann seized the epistle and began to read. 
 
 Whatever its contents were, he was evidently intensely 
 
68 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 interesteJ, for frequent exclunatiuus broke from him as lie 
 turned over the closely written pages. When at last he 
 came to the end, he laid it down on the table, aud gazed 
 into space. 
 
 " Devil it is," said he at last, " and no mistake ! "Who 
 could have dreamed of that ? " 
 
 " Oh, he has a level head ! " said Glogoul — " a level head. 
 I back him against any dozen. It is all as plain as a 
 pike-staff, What fools we were not to see it ! " 
 
 "Yes," said his partner enthusiastically. "He has 
 go; a head worth our two put together, and that is saying 
 a good deal. How much is it that he intends to bring 
 over ? " 
 
 " Ten million pounds sterling," said Glogoul ; " aud that 
 is a mera fraction&l part of the enormous wealth that he can 
 real. .'6 when he pleases." 
 
 " Now," said Faulmann, " I begin to see why he bought 
 Chatsworth. I could not understand him ; neither did 
 you, I think, Glogoul, exactly understand what motive this 
 Chinaman could h ive in buying up the Duke's palace in 
 Derbyshire. Now I understand — at last I begin to under- 
 stand^ 
 
 Fjr.waya that are dark -and for tricks that are vain. 
 The Heathen Chinee is peculiar. 
 
 But how win this stand in with our business ? " 
 
 " Why," said Glogoul, " it stands in this way, that we are 
 a')-i ived, and engulfed. Henceforth we are only a depart- 
 me it of Ping Yang Y.doo's business. Instead of carrying 
 on on our o .vix account, we shall be his factotums. You will 
 be his Prime Minister ; 1 will be his Chief-of-Stafif— bqt we 
 must have a political adviser." 
 
 " Is it necessary ? " said Faulmann. 
 
 " Absolutely necessary," said Glogoul. " I , know all 
 about pathology, especially the criminal side of it. You 
 know all about finance ; neither of us knows a cent's-worth 
 of politics, and this scheme of Ping Yang Yaloo's cariies us 
 into politics at once." 
 
 " I'ou are right," said Faulmann. " And I know the 
 man." 
 
 " You do ? " said Glogoul. " I hope you are right, because 
 it may spoil everything if we choose the wrong man. 
 Eemembar, first and foremost, can we trust him ? " 
 
 " Yes, — if you pay him high enough." 
 
 " Ah, if money will do it. Money is not everything." 
 
 " Money is not everything. You sometimes have to pay 
 in money ; sometimes in power." 
 
 " Well, rnoney and powar ; that is only two ways of 
 spelling the same thing." 
 
 " What kind of power does he want ? " asked Glogoul. 
 
 " He wants to be Prime Minister," said Faulmann. 
 
 Glogoul whistled. " It is rather a tall order." 
 
 " No doubt," said Faulmann cynically. " I do not think 
 we need make him Prime Minister. We have only to 
 talk to him and fool him to the top of his bent. AVe 
 promise nothing. That is alwaj's safe." 
 
 " I agr^e," said Glogoul. " There is no dupe like 
 the man who dupes himself. But who is this paragon of 
 yours '? " 
 
 " He is Sir Peter Patterson." 
 
 " Of course," said Gl .goul.- " How dull I am to-day, 
 not to have thougjt of Iiim at once! • He is the very 
 man." ^ , . 
 
 " Yes," said Faulmann. " He, is arnbitious, but he is 
 declasse — a disapjolnted, disgraced politician. But he is 
 smart ; he used to know' everybody. He has no character 
 and an immense memory, and is the greatest coward that 
 walks in shoe-leather." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Glogoul. " That is true ; but do you 
 think that such an abject coward would be a desirable; 
 member of our team ? " 
 
 '• Why," said Faulmaun, with a sneer, " that is his 
 most valuable quality. You can intimidate a coward, esjie- 
 cially when you have incriminated him. Wliat we want is. 
 not a man, but a too!, and a better tool I defy you to find iij 
 aU England." 
 
 " I daresay you are right," said Glogoul ; " but the work 
 in hand wiU require nerve." 
 
 " Of which we have jjlenty," said Faulmann. " We do 
 not need to tell him more than what we choose." 
 
 " And that at pres&nt is very little," said Glogoul. 
 
 " Quite so. All that we need is to flatter his vanity and 
 engage his sympathetic interest; the rest will follow in 
 due course." 
 
 Whereupon each went his way to carry out the orders? 
 received from Ping Yang Yaloo. The letter which had un- 
 folded such vistas of fortune before the eyes of the partners was. 
 written by Glogoul's friend, the great Mandarin's seci'etary. 
 Its substance, in brief, was- this. That Ping Yang Yaloi> 
 had already made a fortujie of about £100,000,000 sterling,, 
 but it depended chiefly, if not entirely, upon two things. 
 One was that silver should continue at its present depreciateii 
 \'alue, and the secqffd that he should be able to liold his. 
 own in the victory^ which he had gained over the looms of 
 Lancashire. These were lys two vulnerable points. In 
 order to cove/ them, it Avas necessary for him to operate 
 in England; and, as usual with Ping Yang Yaloo whei\ 
 any ojjeratiou of great difficulty and delicacy had tn 
 be perforiiied, he insisted upon being on the spot, an(\ 
 seeing .after everything with his own eyes, for a lon<;: 
 experience had taught him that n'o eye sees so clearly a^ 
 your own eye. 
 
 He had therefore d-'cided to take up his abode ' in 
 .'England, in order that he might be in a position to ust- 
 some portion of his enormous wealth in keeping up the 
 price of gold, and ia hai.d-caiiping his Lancashire compatriots. 
 For some time he had shrunk from the ordeal of taking ii]> 
 his abode in England, fi country which he regarded as a 
 barbarous land in the mi 1st of turbulent seas, cursed with 
 an atmosphere of fog aud a temperature that was almost, 
 intolerable. Ping Yang Yaloo came from a semi-tropical 
 climate in Southern China, and never wintered so far North 
 as Shanghai. He had too much at stake, however, to be 
 able to stand upon such trivialities as personal incon- 
 venience, and when it was represented to him that money 
 could create a little China in the heart of the British 
 Islands, he made up his mind. 
 
 A telegram to Glogoul secured the purcTiase of Chats- 
 worth. Formal instructions were at once drawn lip to 
 Glogoul and Faulmaun to create around the palace a region 
 in which the Mandarin could find nothing to remind him 
 that he was living outside the Yellow kingdom. 
 
 To carry out his schemes it was obviously necessary,, as 
 Glogoul said, to enter into politics. It was necessary for 
 them to master all the intricacies of local administration in 
 order to take the utmost advantage of every privilege whi b 
 the law gives to property owners. The- first indisJisLs- 
 able desideratum was' the conversion' of- the Chatsworth 
 property into a miuiature China ; but when Ping Yang 
 Yaloo was domiciled in Chinafied Chatsworth he' wO .lil 
 but have secured his pied-a-terre. He would only be in 
 a position to begin his great campaign, and at every. step 
 it would be necessary to exercise political influence, arid- to 
 bring pressure to bear upon Governments and 'upon Pariia- 
 nients. In order to do this, Glogoul and Faulmann- felt 
 
A Political Plot.* 
 
 69 
 
 instinctively that they were useless without an ally, and 
 that ally, both agreed, must be none other than Sir Peter 
 Patterson. 
 
 That night the two partners discussed at length how much 
 it was necessary to tell Sir Peter of the scheme which had 
 been unfolded to them. As yaj^they themselves had but an 
 inkling of the great Mandarin's scheme. They could not 
 iipproach Sir Peter without telling him something ; but how 
 much or how little to tell him, that was the question. 
 Fortunately for them, Sir Peter Patterson was an enthusiastic 
 monometallist, and it could not be difficult for them to 
 approach him on that side. It was agreed that Paulmann, 
 being the iinancier, should seek an interview with Sir Peter 
 at his house in Kensington early the following morning, and 
 sound him as to how far they could rely upon hia 
 co-operation. 
 
 Next morning, Mr. Faulmann was ushered into the study 
 of Sir Peter. The latter received him with that half-brusque, 
 half-hesitating manner which always gave those who saw 
 him the first time an impression that he was receiving a 
 possible blackmailer, and was never at his ease until he had 
 divined the stranger's business. 
 
 Mr. Paulmann went straight to the point. 
 
 " Sir Peter," he said, " I have been reading, with great 
 admiration your last article in the Nineteenth Century upon 
 ■* The Idiocy of Bimetallism.' I am with you there, but I 
 would not have come to tell you so if it had not been that a 
 friend of mine, very extensively engaged in business, is 
 anxious to co-operate with the English monometallists, in 
 order to beat the attack which is being made upon their 
 position by the United States of America. When I laid 
 down your article, I said to myself, ' Sir Peter is the very 
 man for my friend.' " 
 
 Sir Peter fidgeted rather uneasily in his chair, and said, 
 " You are very flattering, but I do not exactly understand in 
 what way I can co-operate with the friend of whom you 
 speak." 
 
 "But you are already co-operating with him," said Mr. 
 Faulmann, with a bland smile. " Your article indeed is one 
 of the best methods of co-operation, however unintentional 
 it may have been on your part. But I have nothing to 
 conceal, and no object in making a mystery. I repj-esent 
 one whose name is familiar to you, but of the fuU scope of 
 whose enterprise and ambition you are perhaps but dimly 
 conscious. I refer to Ping Yang Yaloo, the Chinese 
 millionaire.'' 
 
 " Oh ! " said Sir Peter. " Of course, I have heard of Ping 
 Yang Yaloo, the great Mandarin, whose cottons are at the 
 present moment underselling those of Lancashire in the 
 markets of London." 
 
 " That is my friend," said Faulmann. " Now, as you are 
 well aware, the present ratio between silver and gold is one 
 of the factors— only one, of course, but an important factor 
 — ^in the problem which has enabled my Chinese friend to 
 he a Napoleon of .Asiatic finance. He may be wrong, or he 
 may be right, "but he has come to the conclusion that cheap 
 silver is important to him, and any approach to remonetisation 
 of the white metal in this country he regards as being 
 detrimental to his interest, as you demonstrate in that 
 article it would be to the best interests of Great Britain." 
 
 " Certainly," said Sir Peter. " I do not know how it 
 affects Ping Yang Yaloo— that is his business; but a;3 a 
 compatriot, and as a British statesman" (Mr. Faulmann 
 noticed the "emphasis which Sir Peter placed on that word, 
 and inwardly smiled),, " I am certain that bimetallism is one 
 of the most fatal crazes thai ever gained possessionof the 
 public mind." , , ,^, , „ 
 
 "Precisely," said Mr, Faulmann; "but although Mr, 
 
 Balfour has, in his academic fashion, coquetted with this 
 question, where is the statesman who will come forward 
 boldly as an advocate of universal monometallism ? If such 
 a statesman there were, what an opening would lie before 
 him ! " 
 
 " Yes,'' said Sir Peter, " no doubt there would ; but as for 
 me, I have long since forsworn ambition. My only dream 
 is to leave an unsullied name to my heirs. Mid those who 
 will come after me." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Faulmann, "that.ig very nobje, but it is 
 not business, and you will excuse me. Sir Peter, for my time 
 is precious, as I have no doubt yours is also. I came here 
 to see a statesman, whom all we Radicals* at one time hoped 
 to see Prime Minister to the Queen, if, indeed, you had not 
 converted this monarchy into a more rational Eepublic." 
 , Sir Peter winced a Jittle. . 
 
 " But," added Mr. Faulmann, " if you have forsworn 
 yourself, and have no longer a pohtical ambition, I must go 
 elsewhere for my man." 
 
 " Stay ! " said Sir Peter, " It is truis I have no longer any 
 personal ambition — jnari you, I said personal^but a mission 
 to serve my country, even it may be in the arduous foretop 
 of the Vessel of State ; to that last infirmity of noble minds 
 I am afraid I must still plead guilty. But what you say of 
 your Chinese friend interests me hu'^ely, and I am not sure 
 but that you are right. It would" be a great combination 
 — a great combination. I suppose money would be no 
 object?" 
 
 "Not the least in the world," said Mr. Faulmann; 
 " and with money you can do anything in politics." 
 
 " Pray sit down, Mr. Paulmann. Sit down for a moment, 
 and we will just consider what can be done," 
 
 " No," said Mr. Faulmann. " It must be enough for me 
 to put the idea before you. I have implicit confidence in 
 your honour. Your word is as good as your bond. I 
 have only to ask you to treat this conversation as con- 
 fidential." 
 
 " Certainly," said Sir Peter. " Not a word shall pass my 
 lips ; but if you will come again to-morrow I will think it 
 over carefully and let you know in what way, in my judg- 
 ment, your friend's object can best be obtained." 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Faulmann gone than Sir Peter summoned 
 his wife. "My dear, sit down. You have so much clearer 
 a head than I, and, besides, you really take an interest in 
 this political game, which, I confess, rather bores me. I 
 want your advice." 
 
 "Oh, Peter, Peter," said she playfully, "why do you 
 endeavour to deceive even me ? You can keep your hand 
 in without practising on your wife ! " 
 
 " Well, weU," said he, " never mind that ; let me explain 
 what has happened. That fellow who has just gone out — a 
 stranger to me — he came with a proposal which, if it be 
 genuine, and he can produce credentials in support of it, 
 will practically place the ball at our feet." 
 
 Lady Dorothy sighed. "I am afraid you are always too 
 sanguine, Peter." 
 
 " Well, never mind," said he ; "listen to what I have to 
 teU you. Ping Yang Yaloo, the greatest millionaire in the 
 world,' is anxious to prevent any action in this country that 
 may tend to raise the value of silver. As you know, I 
 regard any interference on the part of Governments in the 
 course of exchange as a pestilential heresy. This man 
 Paulmann had seen my article in the Nineteenth Century, 
 which he says agrees on all fours with his Chinese friend's 
 position. He wants some one in this country who will 
 work the oracle, not for him, but against the bimetaUists, 
 and the position is mine to take or to refuse. What do 
 you say ? " 
 
70 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Bimetallism bores me," said her ladyship, with a yawn. 
 " I could never understand currency questions." 
 
 " But yi.iu have a precious keen scent for currency," he saiil, 
 with a smile, "and I teU 3'ou, dear, there are millions in it." 
 
 " What ! " she said, " milhons ? " 
 
 " Millions," he repeated slowly. 
 
 There was no longer any indifference on Lady Dorothy's 
 part. " You mean to say, Peter, that you and I will have 
 millions to dispose of, li;er.illy millions, as if they were our 
 own ? " 
 
 " Well," said -he, " I will not say that ; but so long as we 
 could make our own policy coincide with the Mandarin's 
 monometallism " 
 
 Lady Dorothy sprang to her feet and took two or three 
 quick turns about the room, the fingers of her clenched 
 hand working convulsively. 
 
 " At last ! " she said. " Peter, I shall see you Prime 
 Minister some day." And crossing the room, she flung her 
 arms round his neck and kissed him ardently upon the lips. 
 
 Sir Peter bore it as one who was used to it, and then said, 
 " But how ? — that is the question." 
 
 " Surely it does not need much discussion ? We have 
 many a time talked it over, and we have always had to 
 abandon our scheme, because we did not see our way to the 
 necessary cash." 
 
 " WeU," said he ; " go on." 
 
 " You know, about four years ago we had it all out, and if 
 we had had £100,000 to spare in ready money, we could 
 have upset the G-overnment easily. I fancy that to-day, if 
 we had £50,000, we could turn the Grovernment out." 
 
 "Yes," said he, impatiently. "But what good would 
 that do ? To put out the Government whom you can 
 bully, because it rests upon the support of a congeries of 
 mutually warring factions, is possible ; but if the only 
 result of that is to put in a Government which you cannot 
 influence, it seems to me very much like jumping from the 
 frying-pan into the fire." 
 
 She looked grave for a moment, and then said, " Yes, it 
 requires only a little money to upset a Liberal Government, 
 but it would require a deal of money to break up the 
 Conservative party." 
 
 " Therein," said Sir Peter, " has been our difficulty, and I 
 am not sure whether this millionaire will be willing to incur 
 the necessary expenditure." 
 
 " But even with half a million we could hold the life of 
 the present Ministry in the hollow of our hands," added 
 Lady Dorothy. 
 
 Sir Peter tossed his head impatiently. " Half a million ! " 
 he said. " I would ensure a dissolution in a fortnight 
 if I had the free use of fifty thousand pounds ! " 
 
 K 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BIMETALLISM IN EXOELSIS. 
 
 AWTON SILVERTONGUE had spoken little in the 
 drawing-room at Westlands on the previous evening, 
 but he had thought the more. He was a man who 
 
 much of it. When a man has shot tigers in the jungles of 
 India, and stalked the great elk in the Rocky Mountains, 
 he is apt to look with indifference upon the exploits 
 of Nimrods who have never brought down anything more 
 dangerous than a red deer. At dinner-time he had been 
 seated in the midst of a group of young sportsmen, and his 
 attention had been attracted by Madame Olga at the other 
 end of the table, as a light in a cottage window attracts the 
 belated traveller. 
 
 His attention was first excited by her star sapphire ear- 
 rings, which shone like veritable stars in the electric light. 
 
 When he learned who it was, he was naturally anxious 
 to make her acquainta-nce. For the last twenty years she 
 had been one of the best known and most liked of the inter- 
 national women of the Continent. Her mother had been od& 
 of the beauties of the Russian Court, and her father a patriot, 
 whose lofty idealism puts that of Western Europe into the 
 shade. Her brother's heroic and almost martyr death 
 on an Eastern battlefield, when the issues of peace 
 and war were trembling in the balance, decided the case 
 in favour of the emancipation of the Bast. She herself was. 
 not unworthy such parentage and kinship, and during the 
 Russo-Turkish War, when the London mob, possessed by 
 the passions of all the nether fiends, smashed Mr. Glad- 
 stone's windows, and proclaimed with volleys of .rotten eggs- 
 and dead cats their devotion to the Turkish alliance, Madame 
 Olga held the fort on behalf of the liberties of the East and 
 a good understanding between England and Russia. She 
 was the only human, being who had • an audience in both 
 countries, writing in two languages but speaking only one, 
 and that was peace. More influential than many an. 
 ambassador, she was one of the few human links which 
 united the great inarticulate mass of Slavdom with the 
 more feverish and material civilisation of the Western 
 World. Whether she was discussing theology with Dr. 
 DoUinger, or politics with Mr. Gladstone, or history with 
 Mr. Carlyle and Mr. Froude, she was equally vivacious an(J 
 equally at home, and always intensely human. No one 
 was less of a blue stocking, although she wrote in three 
 languages and talked in four. 
 
 It was therefore not surprising that Silvertongue should 
 have taken an early opportunity of sounding her upon the all- 
 important subject of bimetallism. The Fates were propitious, 
 and early next morning, when the sportsmen were oflf to the 
 hills, Silvertongue found Madame sitting on a garden chair 
 reading the Wtstminster Gazette. 
 
 " Oh, it is you, Mr. Silvertongue ! " she exclaimed ; 
 "pray sit down and tell me more about what we were 
 talking of last night." 
 
 "Nothing would give -me greater pleasure," said he, 
 truthfully enough, for when once Silvertongue got loose 
 on the currency question he would go on to the day of 
 judgment. He plunged at once in medias 'les. 
 
 " The relation between the two precious metals " 
 
 Madame Olga gave a little gesture of despair. " Ah, Mr. 
 Silvertongue, it was not about that which I wished you to talk, 
 but about the way the Jews and Chinese are eating up yoi.r 
 country." 
 
 Silvertongue was for an instant disconcerted, but in 
 a moment he saw his advantage and said, "But that is- 
 entirely a question of the currency. The ascendency of the- 
 plutocracy at the present moment is entirely due to the 
 vital mistake by which silver was demonetised and gold made 
 the single standard of value. Restore silver to its proper 
 position of a circulating medium and gold will drop, and the 
 usurers of the world who have the unfortunate people by 
 the throat, will find their true level. 
 
 "For instance," continued he eagerly, "there are the 
 national debts of the world. The interest upon these debts 
 to-day, owing to the appreciation of gold, or, -what is the 
 same thing, the fall in prices, requires just twice as much 
 human labour to pay them as used to suffice for that 
 purpose. For example, you hold £1,000 in Consols." 
 
 " Alas ! " said Madame Olga deprecatingly, " I only wish 
 I did." 
 
 " But we will suppose you do," said he, waiving aside the 
 objection. " For the taxpayer to pay you £30 interest on 
 your £1,000 it is necessary for him to produce just twice 
 as much wheat as would have sufficed for him to discharge 
 his obligations a quarter of a century ago. That is to say. 
 
Bimetallism in Excels'is. 
 
 71 
 
 the burden upon the indiviJual has just doubled, and the 
 plutocrat, the creditor-class, profits, while the debtor suffers. 
 That is the secret of the adversities which are coming upon 
 this and other countries." 
 
 "But is it not a good thing for the people that food 
 should be cheap ? " asked MadamPOlga. 
 
 " What is the good of having things cheap if you have no 
 money to pay for them ? And it is not worth while producing 
 things if you get no money for them in the market. Take, 
 for instance, wheat at 18s. a quarter; why, it costs nearly 
 twice as much to produce it in the American farm. This 
 kind of thing cannot last. The effect of it is simply this — 
 to throw the monetary ascendency of the world into the 
 hands of Asiatics. The question of the "white money against 
 the yellow money is really a question of the white man 
 against the yellow man. Owing to the absurd devotion of 
 the White man to the yellow money, the Yellow man with 
 his white money is carrying all before him. That is the 
 secret of Ping Yang Yaloo's immense fortune. Anything 
 that brought silver back to its right relation to gold would 
 send Ping Yang Yaloo higher than a kite. They are 
 beginning to see this in America; but here every one 
 is blind — excepting ' a very few independent states- 
 men. They are all bound hand and foot by old traditions 
 and the authority of half a dozen men in the City who 
 were reared upon text-books which were beginning to be 
 antiquated when you and I were bom." 
 
 "Then you hate gold?" said the Russian. "Now, my 
 Only complaint with it is that I have never been able to get 
 enough of it. That is my currency grievance. It circulates 
 too quickly — it always circulates away from me. At every 
 turn you see people who need it more than you, and you 
 give it away or lend it, which is really the same thing. 
 If you could get a circulating medium which would 
 stick to one's fingers and stay in one's purse, instead of 
 gliding away impereeptibly, there would be something 
 in it. But your currency question, I don't understand 
 that." • • 
 
 " Ah," said Silvertongue, with a sigh, " it is as plain as 
 ABC. I cannot understand how any one can fail tqsee it. 
 But the difficulty is being solved, believe me, and- that not 
 by Grovernments, but by Nature. Prices have fallen because 
 there is too little gold ; prices will go up when there is more 
 gold brought to the Mint. Gold mines richer than the 
 fabled mines of Potosi are being opened out every day. 
 Look at Coolgardie ! " 
 
 " WhereJs Coolgardie ? " 
 
 " Coolgardie is the gold-field which was opened up some 
 few years ago in Western AustraUa, where there is more 
 gold than water, and where out of a single shaft they have 
 taken four hundred tons of quartz that has yielded an average 
 of £300 sterhng for every ton. Look at the Transvaal. Twelve 
 years ago it yielded next to nothing ; to-day it is yielding 
 more gold . than either the United States or Australia. 
 Madagascar is coming " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Miadame Olga, " and Siberia. Since 
 Captain Wiggins opened up the passage to the Yenesei and 
 enabled us to take crushing machinery, you will find that 
 Siberia will be one of the greatest gQld-producing countries 
 in the world." 
 
 " No doubt," said Silvertongue. " Prom north and south 
 and east and west, gold comes pouring in ; but all these will 
 do less than a little machine which I shall be delighted to 
 show ydu at wOrk on Lady Muriel's grounds." ■ 
 
 " Really ! " said Madame Olga ; " what is this wonderful 
 machine ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you laugh," said Silvertongue ; " but it is the latest 
 and most perfect method of extracting gold from the hardest 
 ore that the world has ever seen." 
 
 She shook her head. "I hear that of some new machine 
 every six months." 
 
 " No doubt," said Silvertongue. " But this is the 
 machine." 
 
 " They all say that." 
 
 " Yes, but come and see it for yourself. The difficulty 
 which has prevented the world from having as much gold 
 as it needed was the 'impossibility of profitably extracting 
 gold from refractory ores. It has been impossible to get 
 anything like ' all the gold from the ore. All our stamping 
 and crushing machinery has hithei'to failed to extract more 
 than a mere fraction of the gold which has been brought to 
 bank. Now we shall.be able to get 90 per cent, of the gold 
 from the quartz which is brought up from the mine." 
 
 " No," said Madame. " I have heard this thing too often. 
 I do not believe in your machine." ' 
 
 " Well," said Silvertongue despairingly, " if I make up a 
 party to the gold mines in the Gorm Glen, will you 
 join it?" 
 
 " With pleasure," said Madame Olga, " and all the more 
 readily for I am sure of receiving the blessing promised in 
 the beatitudes — ' Blessed are they who expect nothing, for 
 they will not be disappointed.' " 
 
 After dinner Mr. Silvertongue escorted a small party down 
 a long and romantic ravine to the place where- the much- 
 talked-of gold mines of Lady Muriel were situated. The 
 machine was at work. It was not very important looking, 
 but as Silvertongue said, we must not forget that the inven- 
 tion of a pair of parallel bars revolutionised the transport of 
 the world, and therefore bis machine was not to be despised 
 because it seemed insignificant. 
 
 " Ah," said Wilkes, who was one of the party, " this is the 
 ComfordMill, isitnot?" 
 
 " Yes," said Silvertongue, " you have seen it, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have seen it at work. It is a wonderful mill. 
 But it was very imperfect when I saw it last." ■ 
 
 " It has been remodelled, and is now almost pei-feotion," 
 said Silvertongue enthusiastically. " This mill weighs little 
 more than four tons, and _crushes over ten tons of quartz in 
 twenty-four hours. It reduces the quartz to so fine a dust 
 that you would be aT51e to pass it through a cambric hand- 
 kerchief. It is an arrangement of steel balls,, which grind the 
 quartz into a powder as fine as flour. There is the machine 
 for opening up Siberia," said he, turning to Madame Olga. 
 " You send that machine up the Yenesei by Captain-Wiggins. 
 It can be taken to any part of the country, and will turn 
 out gold with the regularity of a clock." 
 
 " I suppose," said Wilkes, " the real advantage of this 
 machine is that it pays to extract gold from ore which all 
 other existing machinery would not do ? " 
 
 " That is it exactly," said Silvertongue. " The Coniford 
 Mill is destined to put miUions of money into the pockets of 
 investors, who at the present moment are clinging to shares 
 in gold-mines which have been abandoned because they 
 would not pay for working. In another five years gold will 
 be as much a glut in the market as silver. All prices will 
 be turned topsy-turvy, and the ascendency of the Yellow 
 man with the white money will be at an end. • I am a white 
 man," said Silvertongue pleasantly, " and I have a preference 
 for men of my own colour." 
 
 While the others were gossiping round the' mill, a 
 messenger came up with a telegram for Mr. Wilkes. It 
 was from his agent, informing him that Belsover Castle jn 
 Derbyshire, the ancient seat of -his wife's family, was for 
 sale, that Glogoul and Faulmann were in negotiation, and 
 that it was necessary for him to return at once. He sighed, 
 and handed the telegram to Silvertongue. 
 
 " Another turn of the screw ! " remarked Silvertongue, 
 after reading it. " What are you going to do ? " 
 
72 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Buy it," said Wilkes laconically, " and keep these 
 scoundrels out, even if I have to sell the Hall." 
 
 " Lady JSnid ? " q^ueried Silvertongue. 
 
 "Is ahsolutely at one vpith me in tjiis. The time is 
 coming when all the solvent members of our noble families 
 will have to make common cause against the plutocrat. 
 They have got Chatsworth and Hardwicke, but they shall 
 never have Belsover if I can help it." 
 
 When they returned to Westlands they found Lady 
 Muriel in deep conversation with Sir Artegal. They also 
 had had a telegram. Haddon Hall was in the market. 
 G-logoul and Faulmann had made a bid which was so high 
 that Sir Artegal feared it would be impossible for any one to 
 outbid them. 
 
 Silvertongue drew Lady Muriel aside. 
 
 " Have you seen what the mill has been doing lately ? " 
 he asked. . 
 
 " No," she replied. 
 
 " Believe me you have got a fortune in that gold-mine. 
 -If it keeps up at the present rate it will produce you gold at 
 the rate of £100 a day. The profit on that gold-mine will 
 help you to bear the cost of saving Haddon Hall. What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " I think it is worth risking,'' she said. " I cannot bear 
 to think of Haddon Hall, tbat flower of English history and 
 romance, falling into the hands of a Mongolian. You had 
 batter tell Sir Artegal what you have told me. He knows 
 more about the mine than I do." 
 
 The result of that conversation was that in five minutes 
 telegrams were despatched from Westlands, the effect of 
 which was that almost for the first time since they had com- 
 menced operations M3ssrs. Glogoul and Faulmann failed to 
 secure the bargain on which they had set their minds. 
 
 And thus it came to pass that the ancient keep of Belsover 
 passed once inore into the hands of the descendants of its 
 original possessors, while Haddon Hall became the property 
 of Sir Artegal and Lady Muriel. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WILES OF LADY DOROTHY. 
 
 fHAT night Glogoul and Faulmann were again in deep 
 consultation. They had in the meantime received a 
 cipher dispatch from Shanghai, which had caused 
 them to open their eyes wider than ever. This 
 dispatch, giving the latest order from Ping Yang Yaloo, inti- 
 mated that it was necessary to control both Houses of Parlia- 
 ment, and to dictate the course of the Grovemment upon the 
 currency question ; that, to do this, they were to spare no 
 expense — even £10,000,000, as he stood to lose twice that 
 amount if silver rose in value, or if the Lancashire competi- 
 tion could not be kept within bounds. 
 
 Faulmann rehearsed his conversation with Sir Peter 
 Patterson, and asked Glogoul to accompany him th'3 next 
 day. 
 
 " No," said Glogoul ; " like all guilty men, he is shy of every 
 fresh face. It is only your honest men who are really 
 trustful. Suspicion is the most obvious of all the signs of 
 guilt." 
 
 " Well," said Faulmann, " but how much could we tell 
 him ? " 
 
 "Oh," said he, "we had better tell him the least that 
 we could possibly get him for, as we shall have to spend 
 a great deal' of money ourselves." 
 
 " Quite so," said Grlogoul. 
 
 " But have you thought out any plan of campaign ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Grlogoul. " I see my way pretty clearly just 
 
 now. You say Ping Yang Yaloo must control both Houses 
 of Parliament. Now the House of Commons is comparatively 
 easy. Parties are pretty evenly balanced, and the number 
 of venal members will increa,se ^vifch every election. With 
 much less than '"a ihillion we could buy up sufficient 
 patriots, both Irish and EngUsh, Hot excluding Scotch and 
 Welsh, who would vote to order ; i.e., we could cut the throat 
 of the Ministry when we pleased. But that is not enough. 
 Our Mandarin is after some other game— wants to control, 
 not merely the House of Commons and the Government, 
 ' but the House of Lords. How can that be done ? " 
 
 " Blessed if I know," said Faulmann ; " these fellows have 
 no constituencies." "' 
 
 Glogoul contemplated him for a moment with a look of 
 compassionate contempt. "No, they have no constituencies; 
 but, what is much more serious for them, they have not got 
 any cash, and as you said at the time when you and I first 
 met, ' They are a race of Splendid Paupers,' living outside 
 of their means with very few exceptions, and if a mil- 
 lionaire cannot keep up his own pack of paupers, use them 
 as he pleases, and take them to market when necessary, 
 then I'm a Dutchman, that's all." 
 
 " You are not a Dutchman," said Faulmann. " I wish 
 you were, for then you would come to the point ■ more 
 directly. How in the name of fortvme are we to control 
 the peers ?" - 
 
 " Why, Faulmann," said Glogoul, " what have we been 
 doiiig these last two years? Are we not engaged in the 
 wrecking, or rather, in the salvage of the estates of the 
 British aristocracy ? Do you know we have had wonderful 
 luck, although we started with quite a small capital ? But 
 just imagine what we could do if we had £10,000,000 at 
 our back." 
 
 Faulmann's eyes sparkled. 
 
 " Glogoul, how was it you were not born a son of Israel ? 
 I see it all how." 
 
 AVithout another word they separated and went to bed. 
 The next morning Faulmann presented himself before Sir 
 Peter. 
 
 They were apparently alone, but Lady Dorothy was 
 snugly ensconced in the interior of an old clock-case, from 
 which she could see the visitor, and hear everything that 
 was said. 
 
 " Now,'' said Faulmann, " I need not say that I hope you 
 have not breathed a word of the conversation that passed 
 bstweenus yesterday to any living soul." 
 
 " Not a word has passed my lips," said Sir Peter, with 
 emphasis. • " On my honour, I have never breathed it to a 
 human being." > 
 
 " How well he does lie ! " thought Lady Dorothy, in the 
 clock-case. " But long practice, I suppose, has made him 
 perfect." 
 
 " Have you any fresh news ? " said Sir Peter. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Faulmann ; " very serious cablegram 
 arrived yesterday, after I left you." 
 
 Sir Peter's countenance fell. 
 
 Faulmann noticed this with a surprised chuckle,^ but 
 went on — " The . enterprise' upon which my friend the 
 Mandarin was engaged is eveii more arduous than I antici- 
 pated yesterday. He'wafits not only to control the House 
 of Commons and the Government, but also the House oi 
 Lords." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Sir Peter; "that is only his ignorance. 
 You cannot expect a Chin&,man to know that the House of 
 Lords counts for nothing nowadays." ' 
 
 Faulmann srhiled ' a little, and said, "The man who 
 thinks that Ping, Yang Yaloo does not know anything, 
 usually wakes up some fine day to find himself mistaken. 
 
The Wiles of Lady Dorothy. 
 
 73 
 
 If he wants to control the House of Lords, he has a reason 
 for it ; but that is not the matter upon which we wish to 
 consult you. We have other plans in that direction for 
 -which co-operation is not necessary. What we look to you 
 for is the control of the House of Commons." 
 
 "Well," said Sir Peter, "I hTve thought it over very 
 carefully, but everything will depend upon the amount of 
 money that can be placed at my disposal. For instance, I 
 could purchase sufficient to place the Government in a 
 minority upon any division that was not absolutely vital for 
 — oh, quite a trifle— say, £25,000, but that is not what he 
 wishes." 
 
 ^'■By no means; that is no use at all, and £25,000 is a 
 mere bagatelle — is not worth while talking about. What 
 we wish to do is to have a permanent silver brigade in the 
 House of Commons, which will defeat any Government 
 that yields even a hair-breadth to the demand, no matter 
 by whom it is backed, for a move in the direction of 
 remonetising silver." 
 
 _ " Humph ! " said Sir Peter. " I am afraid that will be 
 difficult. You cannot buy the Irish in that fashion. You 
 can buy a few by retail, but wholesale — no ! " 
 
 "Besides," said Faulmann, "it will not be wise to rely 
 upon the Irish alone. The Irish could be turned out of the 
 House, and then where should we be ? " 
 
 " You are quite right," said Sir Peter. " But bow much 
 do you think your Mandarin would be disposed to spend on 
 the next general election, which we expect to take place 
 next year ? " 
 
 " It depends," said Faulmann cautiously. " If he could 
 buy a working majority of the whole House, he would not 
 shrink from half a million, or even more ; but that is out of 
 the question." 
 
 " Quite," said Sir Peter. " It is no use to discuss 
 absurdities. What is necessary to be done is to keep the 
 Liberals in office, but to keep the factions in power." 
 
 " Precisely," said Mr. Faulmann. " For instance, Mr. 
 Balfour is coquetting dangerously with bimetallism, whereas 
 the Liberals, so far as we can see, have no ideas at all on that 
 question." 
 
 " But, at the same time, they must not be defeated," said Sir 
 Peter ; " and that means that, if possible, we should support 
 a new group that would draw some support from the Con- 
 servatives, but above all injure and weaken the Liberals." 
 
 " Ye«," said Mr. Faulmann. " But how can that be 
 done ? " 
 
 "Nothing can be done without money," said Sir Peter 
 eagerly. " Have you ever heard of the Toilers' Industrial 
 League ? " 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Faulmann, " I know the Independent 
 Labour Party." 
 
 "Yes, but that went up the spout long ago," said Sir 
 Peter. " The Toilers' Industrial League, however, is the 
 result of the seed which was so^vn by Keir Hardie and his 
 colleagues." • " ■■: 
 
 "It has fallen into the hands of rogues," said Mr. Faulmann. 
 
 " Well," said Sir Peter, " we will put it mildly. Their 
 personal ambitions seem predominant over other c'onsidera- 
 tions, inducing them to forget the laws of arithmetic, to say 
 nothing of the principle of the Ten Commandments." , 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Faulmann, " we do not need to be too 
 squeamish, you know, about instrurnents. They will do as 
 well as any others." 
 
 " I think they will do better than others," said Sir Peter. 
 " And I think if they were judiciously worked we could start 
 candidates in some fifty or sixty constituencies^ which would 
 efficiently spoil all hope of a strong Liberal majority. 
 Perhaps a dozen might get elected. , We would pay their 
 ©leotioii expenses, and give those who are elected an- allow- 
 
 ance, which would, of course, be stopped the moment they 
 voted on the wrong side." 
 
 " Well," said he, " that would be very well to begin with, 
 but we ought to have a group of at least twenty-five, and 
 that is a very small contribution to the necessary number." 
 
 " Oh, as for the others," said Sir Peter, " you can always 
 find a dozen men out of seven hundred who can be got at. 
 There are the guinea-pigs to begin with. They would much 
 rather earn their £500 in a gentlemanly way by supporting 
 a good Monometallist policy bound up in England's greatness 
 than by giving their names to every swindle on the Stock 
 Exchange. Then there are the Labour members. They are 
 not more dishonest than any other members, but they are 
 poorer, and where poverty is, there money has its power. 
 Then you have the crofters, the Welsh members, and a con- 
 tingency of the Irish. ' 'Ah, you need not be afraid ! Give 
 me money enough, and I will secure your group of twenty- 
 five, who will hold the balance of power in their hands. But 
 you have not yet told me how much you wiU be disposed to 
 allow me ? " 
 
 " Would a quarter of a million do ? " said Faulmann ten- 
 tatively. 
 
 Sir Peter's eyes glistened. " I think it might ." 
 
 Inside the clock-case there was a perceptible movement. 
 
 Faulmann started. " We are alone ? " said he. 
 
 . " Certainly," said Sir Peter. 
 
 " I heard a noise in that direction," pointing to the comer 
 where the clock-case was. 
 
 " I suppose it was a mouse." 
 
 But Sir Peter took care to stand between the clock-case 
 and his visitor. 
 
 " I think we understand each other," said Faulmann. 
 
 "Perfectly," said Sir Peter. "But you have not yet 
 shown me your credentials." 
 
 " Ah, yes 1 " said Faulmann. " Here is a cablegram 
 franked for Shanghai. Here is the message written out' in 
 accord with the cipher code. ' Can I trust Faulmann on 
 your account for quarter of million ? ' Now, you send that 
 cablegram, and before night you will have an affirmative 
 reply. Will that satisfy you ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Sir Peter, as he accompanied Mr. Faul- 
 mann to the door. 
 
 When he returned to his room, he found his wife sitting 
 at his desk. " Oh, you fool ; you fool I " she cried. 
 
 " WeU," said he, in an aggrieved tone, " what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 " Why,'' said she, " I was so indignant that I very nearly 
 forgot myself, and betrayed everything. Why did yoii not 
 ask for half a million, when you were at it ? You could have 
 got it quite as easily as a quarter of a million. But it is 
 just the way with you. You have no enterprise, no courage. 
 I do not know what would become of you if it were not 
 for me." 
 
 " Well, you would have made a pretty mess of it had you 
 come out of ^the clock-case. As it was, you nearly spoiled 
 everything.'* 
 
 "Fiddlesticks! I only made the faintest little sound in 
 order to tell you to ask for more money. Yotx are so duU, 
 you cannot take a hint." 
 
 After which" ebullition of na,tural indignation the worthy 
 pair settled down to discuss their further plans. As the 
 result, Lady Dorothy despatched a telegram to " Algernon 
 Bradford, Toilers' Industrial League,, Whitechapel. Lunch 
 
 at 2. — ^DOROTHT." 
 
 Algernon Bradford was the ■ honorai-y secretary of the 
 Toilers' Industrial League, and the chief pet of Lady 
 Dorothy. He was not much of a toilei-, having been ori- 
 ginally a member of the- classes rather: than of the masses. 
 
.'74 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 JIiB father had been a paymaster in the Eoj'al Navy, and he 
 had hoped to have seen his boy work his way in that profession ; 
 but mooey.running short after he had begun his education, 
 the boy had to be withdrawn from school, aiid apprenticed 
 as a shop-lad in a drapery stoi-e. AVhen eighteen or nineteen 
 he had made the acquaintance of an actor ; had fallen over 
 head and heels in love with a ballet girl, and was convinced 
 that his destiny in life was the stage. He had a somewhat 
 pleasant appearance, a good head of hair, but there was a ce-- 
 tainairof irresolution about him which rather detracted froi.i 
 his general appear- 
 ance. He left his 
 shop and joined a 
 travelling company, 
 which soon rubbed 
 all the gilt off the 
 gingerbread of the 
 dramatic profession, 
 but he remained 
 siifficiently long on 
 the boards to ac- 
 quire some self- 
 possession and a 
 knowledge of one or 
 two of the element- 
 ary laws governing 
 the art of public 
 speaking. He did 
 not always stick his ' 
 hands in his pockets [ 
 when he stood be- 1 
 fore , an audience, - , 
 and he did not wrap 
 lip his voice 'in 
 cotton - wool when 
 he wanted the 
 people to hear what 
 be had to say. 
 When the travelling 
 company broke lip 
 he came back to 
 town, ' and found 
 ijmself more or less 
 out at elbows. 
 Posing on the 
 strength of his 
 liramatic experience, 
 he took an active 
 part in Saturday- 
 night theatricals at 
 certain East-end 
 clubs, and when 
 there, made the ac- 
 quaintance of some 
 of the tap-room poli- 
 ticians, who, finding 
 that he had a good 
 presence and a much better delivery than any one of their 
 order, thought it well to push him forward a bit. He began 
 to speak on Sundays in Victoria Park, and occasionally to 
 ^3ut in a word of his own in discussions. His vanity and 
 ambition, which had driven him to the stage, now impelled 
 him to the wider theatre of politics. He took part in organ- 
 ising processions or an occasional great demonstration at 
 Hyde Park, and at an election for the London County 'Council 
 .he was so active and so zealous that he was marked by the 
 whips of the party as a likely man. 
 
 But Master Algernon's ambition soared far above that 
 of being a mere political heeler. He aspired to be a 
 
 'I SUPPOSE IT WAS A MOUSE." 
 
 politician on his own account, and hence, when the Inde- 
 jiendent Labour Party proclaimed that it was the sacred duty 
 of Labour to revolt against both of the established parties, 
 he eagerly thiew in his lot with the I.L.P., and made 
 ferocious speeches against the hourgeoisie, generally deliver- 
 ing capitalists and all their aiders and abettors to the 
 inifernal pit. As he bad no ostensible means of living, the- 
 leaders of the I.L.P. looked rather askance at him, which 
 led him, on more than one occasion, to express his doubts- 
 whether after all Keir Hardie was not as great a traitor as- 
 
 John Burns ; and 
 when the I.L.P. 
 burst up in 1897 
 in an explosion of 
 personal animosity 
 between the leaders, 
 Algernon was 
 prompt to declare 
 that he had seen it 
 from the first, and 
 that the principal 
 thing to be done • 
 was to organise the 
 Toilers' Industrial 
 League, of which he 
 himself would be 
 secretary. As the 
 League, at the 
 moment of his 
 appointment as 
 secretary, consisted 
 } only of Algernon 
 himself, no possible 
 objection could be 
 taken to this 
 departure, and 
 although afterwards 
 the membership did 
 not increase, the 
 name of "Algernon 
 Bradford, Secretary 
 of the Toilers' ' In- 
 dustrial League," 
 figured at the foot 
 of letters to the 
 newspapers, and he 
 vras duly mentioned 
 as being present at 
 various meetings of 
 a political and social 
 nature, until it 
 actually began to 
 appear to others that 
 the League had an 
 existence. 
 
 At this stage, 
 Lady Dorothy 
 Patterson, ever on the look-out to gather any fish into 
 her net, made some inquiries as to Algernon Bradford,, 
 and finding that he was a presentable young man,, 
 asked him to lunch, as she wished to take his opinion 
 on the subject of the organisation of working women. 
 Algernon was prodigiously flattered, but not a little- 
 embarrassed. He had not a suit of clothes which was 
 not out at elbows ; but the opportunity was too good tc 
 be lost, so he induced his room-mate to pawn his watch, 
 and with the proceeds he hired a complete suit of clothes- 
 for the day only. 
 Very proud indeed was Algernon when he brushed his^ 
 
 ^^=^*H^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 / 
 
Chinafving Chatsworth. 
 
 75. 
 
 hair, and curled the ends uf his mou<:L\che before starting on 
 the eventful visit to Lady Djrothy. 
 
 She was alone, and ajologised for the absence of Sir Peter, 
 who had been called away upon a mosk important dramatic 
 business. At that moment Sir Peter was lazily smoking a 
 cigar in his back room, for it bored^ini to death to see all 
 the cattle his wife persisted in cultivating. 
 
 The ups and downs in the young man's experience had 
 not made him forget his manners, and Lady Dorothy was 
 agreeably surprised to find that the Secretary of the Toilers' 
 Industrial League was capable of talking intelligently, and 
 behaving himself at table as if he had been accustomed to 
 dine out. She made up to Algernon with even more than 
 her usual effusion, and as for poor Algernon, well, he was 
 only four-and-twenty, and Lady Dorothy represented to him 
 aU the unknown world of politics, culture, society and wealth, 
 for which he had such longings, and from which ha was so 
 relentlessly shut oul>. 
 
 It was not surprising, therefore, that before the lunch wa? 
 over he had become her devoted slave, while she felt she 
 could count upoa him for any services that she might 
 need. 
 
 Sir Peter sneered; thought that her Algernon did not 
 seem to him to amount to much, excepting as an additional 
 charge upon what he called the Secret Ssrvice Fund, for 
 Lady Dorothy soon found out the actual condition of 
 Algernon's exchequer, and delicately furnished him with the 
 actual money he needed to cut a presentable figure. Then 
 she paid the expense of a hall, in which he summoned a 
 meeting, and which she addressed, and from that moment 
 the Toilers' Industrial League came to mean something niore 
 than its Honorary Secretary. Hence, it had already about a 
 hundred members who subscribed a shilling a year, and 
 boasted of branches in half a dozen towns ; and Algernon 
 indulged fond anticipations of the time when it would own 
 a newspaper of its own. 
 
 It therefore nepd not be mentioned that Algernon tarried 
 not when he received the telegraijx, but promptly appeared 
 • in his accustomed place at the table of his charmer. She 
 began the subject delicately. ~ 
 
 "Sir Peter," she said, "has every reason. to helieve that, 
 . in the next administration, he will be offered a high post, 
 but of course it is out of the question to dream of serving 
 under any one." 
 
 " Of course," said Algernon sheepishly.' " Premiership, or 
 nothing." 
 
 " SiUy boy ! " said she, looking at him, with a smile which 
 would have been roguish if she had been twenty years 
 younger; but even as it was it fiilled Bradford with delight.' 
 
 " Well," said she, " you will be glad to know that the 
 time is approaching when Sir Peter will bs able to take his 
 proper place before the country." 
 
 "Eeally," said Bradford. ^'Has that "Will case then 
 been " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Lady Dorothy, biting her lips, for she 
 hated to be reminded of the one incident which had in a 
 moment destroyed her husband's career, and blighted all the 
 ambitions of a lifetime. " We nevec speak of that," said 
 she reproachfully. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Bradford penitently ; " what is 
 it that you refer to ? " 
 
 " It is this," said she, brightening up—" that he is going 
 to support the Toilers' Industrial League as energetically as 
 you and I have always wished he would. He hesitated for 
 a long time, in order to see whether you were worthy of 
 support, but your enthusiasm, your industry, your 
 enterprise and your fidelity" — with a look from her blue 
 eyes — "have so won him that he will support you— not 
 publicly, of course ; that would never do." 
 
 " Of course not ! " siid he. 
 
 " You know what I meiu ? " 
 
 Bradford's eyes sparkled. This was indeed good news. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I thought you would be glad to hear 
 it, but it will require v«ry hard work on your part, my dear 
 Algernon — Bradford, I mean." 
 
 " Oh, do not ! " he said. " Please call me Algernon." 
 
 " Well, well," she said, accepting his hand, which he- 
 stretched out to her across the table, and giving it a delicate- 
 little squeeze. " Well, well, Algernon — be it so, if you like, 
 but it will require very hard work." 
 
 " I will work," said her protege, " I will work my fingers, 
 to the bone for Sir Peter." 
 
 " Or for Sir Piter's wife," thought the Uttlie woman, but 
 she said nothing. 
 
 " Then," she continued, " how many candidates do yoii 
 think the Toilers' Industrial League could put into the- 
 field ? " , ; 
 
 The question rather bothered Bradford. He had been, 
 counting up that day the members of the League who hadi 
 sixpence in their pockets, which he thought of borrowing,, 
 but as he had come to the' conclusion that there were only 
 three who had it, he thought better of it. 
 
 So Algernon determined to put a bold face upon it, and 
 said that they were prepared to start six candidates at el 
 mofaient's notibe. 
 
 " Six ? " said she ; "why, we want sixty ! " 
 
 " Sixty ! " gasped Algernon, " and we have only a hundred 
 members of the Lea'gUe' altogether ! " 
 
 She appreciated to the fiill his consternation, and went oik 
 quietly^ — "Yes, sixty candidates. Do you not think that 
 they could be forthcoming ? " 
 
 If she had asked for six jiundrjed, Algernon, poor fool,, 
 would have made the same answer. Taking courage from 
 despair, he said, " Certainly, certaiily. Lady Dorothy ; when, 
 do you want the list ? " 
 
 " Well, not c(utte so fast," she said ; " but I want to tell 
 Sir Peter that, if he is ahle, to guarantee the electioa 
 expenses of a contest, and further, of a living wage — not 
 more than a, .living wage-^fot the members who are elected, 
 do you think you could get sixty ?." 
 
 ■ "Oh," easily,"" said h«, with effusion — "easily!" andr 
 therein no doubt he spoke the truth. 
 
 " That will do," she said. " Sir Peter will be delighted"- 
 Of course, it must be a, profotmd secret. Not one word as 
 to where the money comes from, for Sir Peter always does" 
 good by stealth, and; in fact, t think the best plan would be: 
 for Sir Peter to. have. nothing to do with it at all but througli 
 ~me; andthen'itwiH b'e a personal obligation." 
 
 Algernon- blushed to the roots of his hair, and kissing her 
 hand with much greater effusion thsCn if it had been the toe- 
 of St. Peter, he depairted as if walking upon air. 
 
 Thus it was arranged that the Toilers' Industrial League 
 ' was to cut a great figure in the coming General Election. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIL 
 
 'CHINAFYHTG CHATSWORTH. 
 
 Y^^AVINGr left in the capablfr hands of Sir Peter Patter- 
 
 |®\ son the task of organising what may be described as- 
 
 /s^ ^^^ ^°^^ Brigade in the House of Commons, Messrs^ 
 
 Glogoul and Faulmann werefree to turn their atten- 
 
 tiqn to the duty of preparing Chatsworth for the residence of 
 
 its future owner. Faulmann left this task chiefly to Glogoul, 
 
 who had been in China and knew something of the tastes 
 
 and life of the great Manda,rin. 
 
 " The first thing to be done," said he when talking it over 
 with Faulmann, " is to make Ping Yang Yaloo absolute lord 
 and master of his own domain. We can have no trumpery 
 
76 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 visteil interests standing in the way of his sovereign will 
 ami pleasure. I have a shrewd idea that we shall find the 
 ■ground cumbered thick with all kinds of ancient privileges, 
 traditional customs, and I know not what. It cost us a 
 million to buy Chatsworth. I should not be surprised if it 
 cost us another million before we had a free hand to deal 
 ivith the estate as if it were our own property." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said Faulmann ; " when the Duke sold, 
 he sold everything he had to sell." 
 
 " Yes," said Glogoul, " but unless I am very much niis- 
 . taken, there are no end of other interests in the Chatsworth 
 estates which successive dukes have allowed to grow up, 
 smd it will cost us no end of trouble to get rid of them. 
 There are rights of way, privileges of the public, etc., etc. 
 However, I will go dovm and see just how things stand.", 
 
 The result of Glogoul's visit to Chatsworth was, that he 
 had considerably under-estimated rather than over-estimated 
 the amount of money that would be neededto acquire the 
 public rights existing on the Chatsworth estate and in its 
 neighbourhood. In order to Chinafy the place it was 
 necessary that the public should be excluded from the park, 
 rind as much of the neighbouring country added to the 
 ' park as was possible. All access to the enclosed domain 
 should be cut off. That was necessary for several 
 reasons. Ping Yang loved seclusion, he hated Euro- 
 peans, and was miserable unless he was absolute lord 
 of every foot of ground on which he stood. He was 
 extremely fond of the chase, which he followed more after 
 . the fashion of an Indian rajah than a Chinese Mandarin. 
 He had a jungle specially preserved in Southern China, 
 -where he was wont to hunt tigers ; and Glogoul well knew 
 that, whatever else failed, the Mandarin would never consent 
 to be without his tiger hunt in the centre of Derbyshire. 
 •" But," said Glogoul to himself, " the thing can be done. 
 If English noblemen have reared pheasants like barn-door 
 fowls for their ■ annual sport, there is no reason why Ping 
 Yang Yaloo should not rear tigers. In one, respect it 
 would be easier, for there is no likelihood of vagabonds 
 poaching on our preserves. But before tiger-hunting can 
 be followed in Derbyshire we must have our jungle, or at 
 ' least, our enclosed preserves, through which there will be no 
 right of way excepting at peril of life." 
 
 Glogoul went over the estate with a local estate agent, 
 
 merely telling him that the owner wished for privacy, and 
 
 . that he wanted to have as large a part of the county as 
 
 possible for his exclusive use. The land agent stared, and 
 
 said it was impossible. 
 
 Glogoul said, " All right ; but let us at least overcome the 
 impossible on the astral plane." 
 
 The agent shrugged his shoulders, but. finding Glogoul 
 peremptory he set to work. By evading Matlock, Buxton 
 , and some other large towns, and keeping as far as possible to 
 the hills, which were only sparsely tenanted, and the valleys, 
 which were occupied only by a few pit villages, they found 
 that some very large tracts of country, one stretching from 
 Chatsworth towards- Ripley on the south, another including 
 the Peak district to the north, a third coming close to the 
 hill on which Belsover stands, and completely -surrounding 
 the ancient hall of Haddon, were available for their' purpose. 
 By this. means they secured several hundreds of thousands 
 of acres, from which it was conceivably possible the public 
 jiiight be excluded. , . 
 
 After spending a week over his plans the agent came to 
 Ologoul in despair. , i 
 
 " I don't see how it can be done," he sajd. " Of course, 
 
 , you give-all the tenants, on your estates notice to quit— you 
 
 may buy up the estates ,of other landlords and eject their 
 
 ienants ; but many hold leases which are not terminable for 
 
 many years. There are a number of rights of way which 
 
 cannot be extinguished. There are many roads, and the 
 estate is crossed by one or two railways which cannot be 
 interfered with." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Glogoul. " Let me see your plans." 
 
 After studying them for some time he came to the con- 
 clusion that as a last resource, it came to a matter of pounds, 
 shillings and pence. The less important roads cquld be 
 diverted, high walls could be built on either side of the 
 railways and of the more important turnpikes. 
 
 " But," said the agent, aghast, " to build all these walls — 
 and, as you say, you wish to have them from fifteen to six- 
 teen feet high — would involve almost as much masonry as 
 the Great Wall of China ! " 
 
 " That is a mere detail," said Glogoul airily ; for he alreacly 
 began to see how this gigantic building operation would 
 facilitate certain other schemes. He had only twelve 
 months' grace. At the end of that time Ping Yang Yaloo 
 and. all his retinue were to arrive .at' Chatsworth. Before 
 that time the whole population must be cleared off the 
 territory, and walls must be built round the whole estate, 
 high enough to shut off Ping Yang Yaloo, his janissaries, 
 and his tigers from the outside world. - . . 
 
 The task was very much simplified owing to the depres- 
 sion which had prevailed for some years in Lancashire. 
 This was the direct result of Ping Yang's successful compe- 
 tition. At least half the mines in Derbyshire were now 
 , idle. In the three districts which had been marked out as 
 the tiger preserve, only two were still working. A portion 
 had already migrated, and the distress had reduced the 
 problem with which Glogoul had to deal to half its original 
 dimensions. The district was poverty-stricken, and Glogoul 
 calculated that it would not be difficult to buy up the lease- 
 holders and clear out the remnant of the population. It was 
 necessary, however, to " bear " the market for landed estate 
 in that district. Paulmann suggested that there was nothing 
 ; so likely to shake down the value of landed property as a 
 sense of the insecurity of its foundations. " It is a mining 
 county," said he, " and so many of the mines have been laid 
 idle that it ought not to be impossible to do something .of 
 that sort." . 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Glogoul. 
 
 " Some time ago," said Faulmann, slowly, " when I was 
 in Derbyshire, I saw an extraordinary phenomenon in the 
 , shape of the gradual subsidence of . a whole tract of land. 
 The pit props had given way, and the land was settling 
 down, causing a kind of slow avalanche down the hillside 
 into the valley below. Farms, houses, engine-rooms were 
 all shaken. As long as the pit is working and the props are 
 renewed, the natural consequences of mining are averted, 
 but when the pit is idle the pit props decay, the ground 
 falls in and depreciates the value of all the buildings on 
 the surface. Could we not facilitate that process ? " 
 
 "Humph 1 " said Glagoul ; " I think that a little dynamite 
 judiciously placed in the shallower -njorkings might produce a 
 useful psychological effect on the minds of property-owners 
 on the surface. But it will have to be done very carefully." 
 
 In a few weeks the newspapers were full of an earthquake 
 in Derbyshire which had occurred in the neighbourhood of 
 the half-deserted town of Alfreton. It produced a panic 
 which had led the population to seek refuge in the fields, 
 dreading another shock. There was no doubt, the scientists 
 said, that it was a chock of earthquake.. The ground rose 
 and heaved and then settled again. A distinct tremor was 
 felt for several iniles around the scene of the ' disturbance, 
 which seemed to be in and about the neighbourhood of 
 Alfreton. Newspaper reporters by the score visited the 
 place, and whatever of sensation the earthquake had failed 
 to produce was promptly manufactured by these diligent 
 
Chinafying Chatsworth. 
 
 77 
 
 scribes, who, in the dearth of anj' genuine news, magnified 
 the rumble of every passing cart into the approach of a 
 coming shock. 
 
 In siate, however, of tlie diligence of the newspapers the 
 panic was somewhat subsiding, HMd the inhabitants were 
 rerurning to their shattered ho.ues, when the country was 
 startled by the report of a more disastrous earthquake close 
 to the town of Ripley. 
 
 The old ironworks where, in former times, tlie great 
 girders which span St. Pancras railway station had been 
 constructed, had bean idle for a couple of years, There 
 were therefore no workman employed at the time when the 
 shock took place.- Th3 tall chimneys and the buildings 
 were levelled with the ground. Up the hillside at Riijley 
 the tremor had bean distinctly felt, and all could see the 
 great crack in the walls of the Town Ha'l. At the same 
 time there was a reuewal of the former shock at Alfreton, 
 bui it was not so violeat as before. 
 
 About this time a renowned professor from the university 
 of Tokio, in Japan, a country in which earthquakes are 
 almost as familiar as thunder-storms, demonstrated com- 
 pletely to his own satisfaction, and to the bewilderment 
 of the Eng'ish public, that the county of Derbyshire 
 had become the centre of a series of seismic shocks which, 
 ia all probability, would increase in intensity for a year 
 or two, and then gradually die away; but in the cour-se 
 of that time the district would be rendered j.tectically 
 uninhabitable. 
 
 This article, which it is needless to say was handsomely 
 paid for by Dr. Glogoul, produced a panic in the threatened 
 region. Every one made .haste to clear out at whatever 
 saCi'iflce. The value of landed property fell by ten aiid 
 twenty, aad then, with Isaps and bounds, by fifty per cent. 
 It was i^npossible to let a house in the neighbourhood of 
 Ripley aad Alfreton. The roads were lined with inhabitants 
 flying with their goods and chattels from the next shock,- 
 which they were assured woald ba more violeat than those 
 which had already taken plass. 
 
 Many of the more hardy natives remained in their 
 holdings, while some of a more sceptical turn of mind 
 detsrmined to wait for the further verification of the 
 Japanese professor's predictions. The professor indicated 
 that in a;c irdance with the invariable law which had been 
 discovered by the experts at the seismological observatory in 
 Japan, the next shock would probab'.y occur in a fortnight, 
 some fifceen or twenty miles to the north. It would be 
 followed directly by other shocks, which he thought would 
 probably jDrove dangerous to the neighbourhood around 
 Buxton. 
 
 Hardly a fortnight had elapsed bafore the newspapers 
 reported that the prediction of the expert had been all but 
 too truly realised. Immjdiately belo.v the hiU on which 
 Peveril of the Peak had rearad the castle of Balsover, there 
 lie the remains of what wis at one time known as the 
 model colliary. vilLige, founded by a Newcastle coalowner, 
 who used to boast that it contained neither pubUcan, 
 IMlicjman, nor pauper — a boast which would have been 
 be iter justified if as much care had been taken to supply 
 good drinking water as there was to excluda the detested 
 beer. With the decay of the Lancashire trade the mine 
 had been laid idle, but a considerable nuaiber of the inhabit- 
 ants continued to cultivate allotments, eking out a precarious 
 living by the aid of odd job? in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The third shock differed from its predecessors in occasion- 
 ing a great loss of life. It occurred at midnight, and almost 
 the whole population perished in the ruins of their liouses. 
 When Faulmann read the- telegrams in the morning paper, 
 he handed the paper to Crlogoul, merely remarking, " That 
 cost fifty lives. Was it necessary to kill so many ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Glogoul, " what are fifty men ? — a mere 
 bagatelle ; not one fifth of those who are constantly 
 blown up in colliery explosions quite aimlessly, wherea? 
 now -" 
 
 " Of course," interrupted Faulmann, " it is quite different j 
 the end justifies the means." 
 
 " Certainly," said Glogoul, " I think the time has come 
 for us to play our next card." 
 
 So the great firm of Glogoul and Faulmann wrote a letter 
 to the Times stating that his Excellency Ping Yang Yaloo, 
 who had recently bought Ohatswjrth, had baen filled with 
 compassion on hearing of the fate o£ the unfortunate in- 
 habitants of the district in which he was about to reside. 
 He had, therefore," instructed them to state that from the 
 depths of his commiseration, although his property might 
 ba the next to suffer, he wished to subscribe £10,000 towards- 
 the reiief fund for the unfortunate victims, and in the mean- 
 time he would do what he could to give employment to 
 those who had lost their means of subsistence by the 
 catastrophes. 
 
 The newspapers were loud in their praises of the munificent 
 Mandarin, and Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann commenced 
 the first section of the great wall which was to surround the 
 estate. They had no lack of labour, and they got it cheap. 
 Meanwhile, when the panic was at its height, Messrs. Glogoul 
 aad Faulmann, through secret agents, bought up almost all 
 the property in the selected areas. 
 
 By this means withia three months of the first earthquake 
 at Alfreton, the whole of tha land, with the exception of one 
 plot, wiiich stood almost ia the centre of the estate, had 
 passed into the possession of the firm. A few leaseholders, 
 here and there obstinately refused to part with their holdings ; 
 it was therefore necessary to re-enforce the argument of 
 earthquake by one which \yould appeal more directly to the 
 instinct of self-pr servation. 
 
 While the northern wall was rapidly being pushed forward, 
 there appeared another letter in the Times by the Japanese 
 professor, whose warnings had bean so signally verifiad by 
 the event, calling attention to the fact that there was great 
 danger of an outbreak of epidemic disease in the earthquake 
 region, and recommending that the local sanitary authorities- 
 and resident landowners sliould take instant steps to examine 
 their water supply and to look to their drains, otherwise the 
 consequences might be most disastrous. 
 
 Now it happened that midway in the ground which 
 Glogoul had selected for the Southern tiger preserve there 
 stood a little village which centred round a Baptist chapel. 
 This chapel was the only place of worship in the village. 
 Tlie pulpit had been occupied for many years by a pious 
 and devout minister, who had promptly utilised the earth- 
 quakes as the occasion for a series of revival services which 
 had led to the .gathering of almost the entire population 
 of the hamlet into the fold of his church. A religious exal- 
 tation took possession of him. He quoted the Psalms as. to 
 the protection of those who sheltered themselves under the 
 everlasting arms, and regarded the immunity of his' viEage 
 from earthquake as a direct proof of Providential interposi- 
 tion. His flock, imbued with the same belief in the guardian 
 care of Providence, refused to listen to any overtures of 
 Glogoul and Faulmann, or of their agents. They were there, 
 and there they meant to feniiiu. It was therefore iiecessarj^ 
 to p?bve to them that their Wnfidence in Providence was not 
 proof a;j iust the resources of civilisation. ' '^'■"- 
 
 The villa;^e drew its' watei; from a deep spring which 
 bubbled up on the hillside, and which wa|,, conducted 
 through a long pipe to the fountdn in .front orthe phapel. 
 When the professor's warning appeared in the Kmes.the 
 medical officers of he ilth for ' the county m ide a special 
 examination of the sources of water supply, aud reported 
 
78 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 fViat so fir as they could see there w.s no sign that would 
 j ustify a fear of an epidemic. 
 
 Two days afterwads the minister was suddenly taken ill. 
 On a doctor being sent for he said that the symptoms were 
 those of Asiatic cholera. In two days the minister was 
 ■dead. The origin of the epidemic was shrouded in mystery 
 to all excepting two men. The cholera germs which Grlogoul 
 had carefully preserved in ice since his return from China 
 tad been liberated at the hillside spring, and had done their 
 work with the precision of trained assassins. The epidemic 
 ■did not spread, but it was very viruleat within a small area. 
 By the titne the last viciim had bien buried, the leases of 
 tall the land in the selected district were in the strong- 
 1)ox of Messrs. 
 <Tlogour and " 
 Faulmanu. 
 
 'I'he approach 
 •of wintei: brought 
 with it the usual 
 •-.leraonstrStion of 
 the existence of 
 %v i (1 e S p r e a d 
 misery in the 
 shape of the un- 
 •employed. Act- 
 ing in accord- 
 .ance with the 
 plan of campaign 
 ■agreed upon with 
 Sir Peter Patter- 
 ■«on, Algernon 
 "Bradford was 
 very active in 
 •organising 
 ■de.non3trations 
 ■of the workless 
 svorkers, jjoor 
 ■svretches whose 
 misery was sufB- 
 'oiently keen to 
 make them fol- 
 low any leader, 
 ■no matter who 
 he might be, 
 lif he gave them 
 some hope, and 
 at was a relief at 
 •Jeast to make 
 their grievances 
 audible. 
 
 It was noticed 
 %}■ some curious 
 
 ■observers that all the demonstrations of the unemploj'ed 
 which were organised by the Toilers' Industrial League 
 svere characterised by the same general features. Besides 
 •■a-king for work for the unemployed, they made a 
 ^specific demand that the bloated aristocrats who had 
 foattened for centuries on the blood and bones of the 
 Qieople should be compelled to disgorge their ill-gotten 
 ^plunder. They further called for the organisation of a 
 fi>ody of men, independent of party, who would be ready 
 to follow any leader who would rally the forces of the 
 suffering democracy against the aristocratic incubus. The 
 Ouvernment at first took little notice of these demonstrations, 
 fiiut finding them growing in importance, sent out circulars 
 ti I the Boards of Guardians suggesting that something should 
 \i'i ihme. This suggestion was greeted with howls of 
 tndiguation by the Toilers' Industrial League. They were 
 
 A MYSTERY TO ALL BUT, TWO MEN, 
 
 not paupers, and the unemployed refused to be dealt with 
 by the guardians. There were several scrimmages, and in 
 one or two places the bread-shops were looted, and every- 
 thing seemed to indicate that matters would rapidly get 
 worse. 
 
 At this juncture, deeming that the psychological moment 
 had arrived, Messrs. Glogoul and Paulmann put themselves 
 into communication with the Home Secretary and the 
 President of the Local Government Board. They said that, 
 ill view of the extreme pressure of the distress, they were 
 instructed by his Excellency Ping Yang Yaloo to provide 
 work on the largest possible scale in the distressed district 
 of Darbyshire. They had bsen at some difSoulty to suggest 
 
 the kind of work 
 which should be 
 undertaken, but 
 in view of his 
 Excellency's de- 
 sire for privacy, 
 and also of the • 
 importance of 
 finding employ- 
 ment for the 
 largest number of 
 the unemployed 
 at once, they 
 hoped they would 
 have the support 
 of public senti- 
 ment in encirc- 
 ling the whole of 
 his property with 
 a lofty stone 
 wall. One of his 
 E x c ellency's 
 reasons for this 
 was that he was 
 afraid the pre- 
 sence of his 
 Chinese retainers 
 would be an 
 ofl'ence to the 
 local residents, 
 and so he desired 
 to keep them to 
 the to selves. 
 They submitted 
 these proposals 
 tentatively in the 
 hope that they 
 would not conflict 
 with the wishes 
 of Her Majesty's 
 Government. At the same time, they intimated privately 
 that they had received instructions to expend £500,000 on 
 these relief works. 
 
 The delight of the Government can be imagined. They 
 effusively thanked Messrs. Glogoul and Paulmann, and at 
 all the meetings throughout the country which were organised 
 by the Toilers' Industrial League, enthusiastic votes of thanks 
 were passed to the great Chinese Mandarin, whose munifi- 
 cence they contrasted, with scathing invectives, with the 
 beggarlj' efforts of the bloated aristocrats, most of whom were 
 witli great difftoulty endeavouring to keep their own people 
 employed throughout the hard winter. 
 
 In a very short time there were 20,000 men employed 
 busily digging foundations, hauling stone, and making 
 mortar to build the " I-ittle Wall of China," as it was 
 facetiously designated. Never in the history of England' 
 
A Gigantic Conspiracy. 
 
 79 
 
 had such a wall been heard of. When it was pointed out 
 that a high wall on either side of a turnpike road which had 
 always run through open country was decidedly peculiar, to 
 say the least, the questioner was always met with the 
 answer that it made all the more ng)rk. The one man who 
 ventured to oppose the construction of such walls was 
 rudely set upon by the mob and beaten within half-an-inch 
 of his life. -What was all his sentimental talk about 
 scenery compared with their need for bread ? 
 
 So the work prospered. Messrs. G-logoul and Faulmann 
 got their labour cheap, and the Littla Wall of China was 
 rapidly encircling the whole domain. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A GIGAXTIC CONSPIEACY. 
 
 ^"VHE success of the ComfordMill was no longer a 
 ^ (\ matter of doubt. As fast as machines could^ be made, 
 ^ 'f they were set to work, not only in Lady Muriel's 
 ^ mines in Inverness, but upon Lady Belsover's Welsh' 
 property, where gold existed in almost inexhaustible 
 quantities, although the proportion of stone to gold was so 
 great that hitherto it had not' been worth the cost of 
 extraction. The purchase of H addon Hall and of Six Elms 
 was completed, and the produce of the Scottish and 
 Welsh Gold Mines came in very opportunely to eiiable 
 them to carry out their plans for establishing themselves, 
 the one on the right, and the other on the left of 
 - Chatsworth. 
 
 Lady Muriel somewhat demurred at the ordeal of having 
 to hve in a brand new house, which it was necessary to 
 build close to the ancient and romantic Haddon, but it 
 was unanimously agreed that' it would be profanation to' 
 touch the hall as it now stands. That relic of the past 
 must remain, bearing, with silent eloquence, its testimony 
 to the love and the lives that haye gone,; illustrating the 
 long and glorious chapter of English history and English, 
 romance. 
 
 Mr. Wilkes' ta k at Six JSlms was -very simple. The- 
 keep, unhurt by the storms of nearly a thousand years, was 
 easily stripped of the profanations which its last occupant- 
 had accumulated within it. The ancient fountain in the' 
 .gardens was soon repaired, the statues replaced in the 
 ancient niches, but- the huge ruin of the modern hfiuse, 
 which had been so cruelly dismantled, demahdisd more" 
 extensive reconstruction. 
 
 " How indignant I always feel," said Lady ^Enid, as 
 she went over the roofless pile with her husband," 
 " when I think of the reckless manner in which these 
 stately buildings were abandoned to ruin. From a child I 
 have always regarded this house as intimately associated 
 with the clds6 of the Eenaissaiice" of England. It was here 
 the Marquis of Newcastle well-nigh ruined himself and 
 the fortunes of his family by entertaining King Charles, 
 with a regal hospitality of which nowadays, alas, we know 
 little. ' On this spacious terrace, the masques were performed 
 •ander the direction of Ben Jonson, in which the scions of 
 the noblest houses in England took a leading part. On this 
 raised dais the luckless monarch looked down on a festive 
 scene, one of the last of those which remind me of the 
 vanished Italian world. Between us and them there is a 
 great gulf fixed." 
 
 "Yes," said her husband, "it is a great gulf indeed. 
 Within a dozen years of the time when Ben Jonson was 
 superintending merry masques on this terrace, Oliver 
 Cromi^ell was levelling his artillery on the keep from 
 jonder knoll, and when these great guns went off, they 
 tolled the knell of that jocund tiaie." 
 
 ." But wo shall bring it back," said Lady ^uid gaily— 
 " the masques and music and all the bright revelry of the 
 Elizabethan age." 
 
 Her husband sighed, and looked out over the vaUey, 
 where a party of surveyors, under the orders of Glogoul 
 and Eaulmann, were marking oflf the limits of the Mandarin's 
 domains. 
 
 " I fear, my love," said he, " that there will be sterner 
 work to be done before England may be ' Merrie England ' 
 once more, but not just now." 
 
 " Come," said Lady j33md, " I protest against this spirit 
 of gloom. The Chinaman will come, and the Chinaman 
 will go ; but we of the old stock will remain for ever." 
 
 " I hope so," said he, " but it will be in the future as it 
 has been in the past ; not byisolation,-"nor-by'insistence on • 
 caste distinctions, but rathef by the hearty union between' 
 the Eng'.ish- democracy 'and its natiural leaders." 
 
 . Whea Glogoul .found , that Uaddon Hall and Belsover 
 Castle had been snatched out Of' his v6ry grasp, he was 
 ifldigaant, but said nothing. He recognised the boldness of 
 the challenge that -was involved in the estabhshment of the 
 two families on each flatik of Ping Yang Yaloo at Chats- 
 worth, but he had enough to do for the moment, and beyond 
 determining to let them realise the unpleasantness of the 
 neighbouthood in which they had so wantonly ventured, he 
 did nothing. ....... 
 
 When the earthquakes began in Derbyshire, Sir Artegal 
 was, like fevery one; considerably alarmed. The fact, how- 
 ever, that' Glogoul was ' acting as ' agent to Chatsworth 
 suggested to Mr." Wilkes the idea "that there was more of 
 human th;ui "natural agency "in these convulsions. He had 
 no evidence by which to jiistify his suspicions-, but he 
 knew Glogoul, and knew him to he capable of anything. 
 
 Dmimg^ that winter, while they were slowly" proceeding 
 "tt-ith the new Haddon House immediately behind, and out of 
 sight of the romantic hall, they were much troubled with 
 attempted strikes' among their workmen. This was the 
 more remarkable, because work was very scarce, and multi- 
 tudes of unemployed men were tramping around, seeking 
 employment at any terms. Sir Artegal and Mr. Wilkes 
 both suspected that these things were brought about of set 
 purpose, but -there was no proof that the agitators who 
 denounced them as bloodsuckers were acting in deference' 
 t'o orders, and 'as they always met their workmen, with 
 the utmost frankness, the interruptions of work were very' 
 brief. 
 
 What with the earthquakes and the outbreak of cholera, 
 the agitation of the unemployed, and the difficulties with" 
 their own workpeople, the situation seemed serious enough 
 to justify Sir Artegal in running up to town to talk the 
 matter over with his friend the Prime Minister. He found' 
 the Premier much harassed with business. A general 
 election it seemed impossible to stave off longer than 
 another six months. The lack of employment at home- 
 was great. There was no cessation in the continually 
 increasing pressure of Asiatic competition. 
 
 " Things are bad," said he, " and I am afraid they are going 
 to be worse. I have just had a telegram from our Ambas- 
 sador at Pekin, who hears that Ping Yang Yaloo is about to 
 proclaim a still further reduction in the price of shirtings. If 
 he does, that will mean the shutting up of the few remaining 
 mills that are still running in Lancashire, and an addition of 
 some 20,000 persons to the number of the unemployed. 
 Fortunatel.v, the promised expenditure of half a million in 
 relief works in Derbyshire, •vrill, to some extent, alleviate 
 the distress ; but it is a curious business — the same man to' 
 be throwing 20,000 operatives out of work in Lancashire, 
 and employing 20,000 ■ in buildins; a perfectly useless wall 
 around his domains in Darbvshiri." 
 
8o 
 
 The Splendid Paupers, 
 
 , Sir Artegal did not disguise his alarm at the prospect, but 
 found that the Prime Minister could give him little or no 
 consolation. He hurried on his w-.y from Downing Street, 
 and was just in time to catch a great -Jewish financier, who' 
 was usually supposed to hold in his hands the issues of 
 peace and war. 
 
 "I want to tell you," said Sir Artegal, "two things. 
 First, the machine is coining gold. In less than three 
 months the production of gold wUl have doubled, and the 
 depreciation of gold will begin. That is one fact. The 
 second is that I have heard from a sure source that Ping 
 Yang Yaloo is coming over here, not for any sentimental 
 purpose, or any whimsical desire to change his residence, 
 but in order to direct on the spot the operations that are 
 necessary to enable him to command the markets of the 
 world." 
 
 The Jew looked very grave. " Are you sure your infor- 
 mation is correct ? " said he at last. 
 
 "Absolutely certain. All this catering for poisularity with 
 the unemployed is but the first move in the great game. 
 What the next will be I do not know, but I suspect." 
 
 " What do you suspect?" said the Jew. 
 
 " Well," said Sir Artegal, " no one knows better than you 
 the present condidon of most of our ntible families. They 
 are compelled to ma'ctain their position in the counties, 
 and keep up an app'jarance of affluence, when in reality 
 they have hardly enough- to buy themselves bread-and- 
 clieese. They are keeping themselves afloat, by increasing 
 their inoumbi-ances ; and this process has gone on to such 
 an extent that at the present moment, while more than half 
 the land of England is supposed to belong to the peers, it is 
 in reality, to all intents and purposes, the property tf 
 insurance companies and land mortgage companies ; and, if 
 the truth were told, a considerable number of our landlords 
 may be foreclosed upon at any mo.aent." 
 
 " Ye^," said the other, " that U very, very true, but how 
 dees this bear upon the designs of Ping Yang Yaloo ? " 
 
 " Well," said Sir Artegal, " I wish you would make 
 inquiries as to whether there has been any attempt in any 
 direction to obtain possession of the mortgages, bills, or any 
 other obligations which are at present in the market, and 
 which would enable their holders to exercise pi-essure upon 
 the Peers." 
 
 " Certainly, I wiU let you know ; but I cannot see what 
 this has got to do with your Chinaman." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Sir Artegal, " I may be mistaken, but I 
 think I. have seen signs that, there is to be an attempt to 
 corner the Peerage. If this Chinese Mandarin, who is given 
 to audacious coups, were to find himself in such a position 
 that he could foreclose on one-half the Peers of the realm, 
 he would practically have the House of Lords at his mercy." 
 
 " True," said the other, " but, after al^ that would not 
 matter much. It is the House of Commons where the real 
 power lies." 
 
 " Granted ; and you may depsnd upon it that it is not 
 left out of his calculations. I may be wrong, but it seems 
 to me that the attack is being prosecuted simultaneously 
 upon both Houses of Parliament. Oa the House of Lord-i, 
 by the acquisition of all the, obligations into which the 
 Peers have entered ;' and on the House of Commons the move 
 is rather in the direction of an attempt to disintegrate the 
 Liberal Party, and to return to power a majority so sniall 
 that it could hardly hold its own for a day. This" is to be 
 done by electing a group of Independents whom they think 
 will become the balance-weight between the parties. Such, 
 at least, is my reading of the situation." 
 
 The great financier paused for a moment, and then said, 
 "I will make the inquiries jou wish, and co-morruw I will 
 let you know the resiilt." 
 
 . The next day Sir Artegal -received- a private letter from" 
 his friend in the City, confirming his worst fears. He 
 reported that there had been going on for some time past a 
 quiet buying up of all the securities, mortgages,, bills and 
 other liabilities held by the Peers. No one hitherto had 
 been able to guess where and by whom this movement was 
 directed ; but the brokers were suspected of being hand and 
 glove with Messrs. Grlogoul and Faulmann, the well-known- 
 wreckers. Whoever they were, they had apparently ample 
 funds at their disposal. 
 
 Sir Artegal locked the letter away in his desk, and then 
 sauntered down to his club. On his way he met a news- 
 boy, displaying a sensational placard and makijig the usual 
 unintelligible cry which indicates -that they have something 
 of exceptional interest, without being able to articulate clearly 
 enough to intimate what that subject is. He stopped the 
 boy and bought the newspaper. Unfolding it, he found the 
 chief place occupied by a manifesto by the Toilers' Industrial , 
 League ; — 
 
 To THE Wo::kers of Ekgland (bo it began), — How long are 
 we to suffer and to pine in our millions, when a pampered few 
 who have mouopolited the land are battening in luxury upon, 
 all the delicacies of the earth ? We do not seek for veugeanoe ; 
 we do not even plead for justice ; we ask for bredd — brSai 
 for our starving little ones; bread l«i our Wt eping wives ; and 
 work for tlie willing workers, who to-day, and every day, are 
 seeking for work and finding none. AVcking Men of 
 England, now is tlie hour to enforce your claim. The land- 
 lords of England cannot, for very shame, refuse, to follow the 
 noble example. of the great philantliropio capitalist who has, 
 at this moment, given employment to t, ns of thousands of our, 
 starving fellow-countrymen. What this heatlien Chinee can 
 do, our great nobles must be made to do. Up, then, and be 
 doing ! Assemble in your thousands before the mansions 
 and the castles of the Peers. Associate with y. u all the 
 ministers of the Churoli, all the preachers of the leligionof. 
 humanity, of merCy, and place them at yoilr head. Insist that' 
 the great nobles of England shall not fall behind the 
 heathen Chinee in the services which he renders to his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 Signed, on behalf of the executive committee of the Toileio'. 
 Industrial League. — Algeunon EuAUFOiiU. 
 
 Going on a little further, he met one of the best known, 
 but most impulsive. Nonconformists in London. 
 
 " Have you seen the Manifesto ? " said he eagerly. 
 
 " I have just been reading it, as you see," said Sir 
 Artegal, holding up the paper. 
 
 " I'an't that great ! " said he'. " There is the opportunity — 
 what an opportunity for the Christiail Church ! Once more. 
 Labour has gone ahead of the Church." 
 
 " But. what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Do ! " said he. " We are going to have a Conference io 
 the Memorial Hall at once, and we are going to rally the 
 masses behind the Cross. It is impossible to iresist such an 
 appeal." 
 
 Sir Artegal remained silent. His companion looked at 
 him in some surprise, and said — 
 
 " Does not this heathen barbarian of China put us to 
 shame, with our boasted philanthropy and Christianity ? I" 
 confess I should feel unable to lift. my head and look a'. 
 Chinaman in the face if I were not prepared to, go at least] 
 as far as he has, poor benighted heathen, whom tie Gospel 
 has never touched. But I must away," said he. " The 
 Conference meets in an hour, and I have to draft the 
 resolutions." .... 
 
 So saying, he hurried itway. ' ^ 
 
 "A rare clever stroke that," said Sir Artegal to himself., 
 " To think of invoking the Chinee to whip the Noncon- 
 formist Conscience into line. I wonder who thought 
 of it." 
 
A Scene in Bouverie Street. 
 
 8i 
 
 , As a matter of fact, it was Lady Dorothy who had 
 thought of that. After a sleepless night, in which she had 
 tossed restlessly to and fro, 'she had risen - at six o'clock, 
 and had indited the -Manifesto which was now flaming 
 abroad in all the papers. 
 
 On the club steps Sir Artegal iftt the Duke of Pontiac. 
 
 " Deucedly bad look-out this winter," said he, shrugging 
 his shoulders. " Have you seen the new Manifesto ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Sir Artegal. " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Do ! " said the Duke ; " the fact of the matter is that I am 
 just at the end of my tether. When the death duties were 
 put on, I insured my life, in order to enable my heir to carry 
 on the estate without being crippled. I am at my wit's end 
 as to how to get the money to pay this year's premium. 
 Now it seems that we have to be cornered by a howling mob, 
 and enforced by all the fanatics of the Churches, insisting 
 that we have to find work for ;he unemployed. By-the-bye," 
 he added, " do you know anything about the firm of Glogoul 
 and Faulmann ?"" 
 
 Sir Artegal sniUed and said, " I think I do." 
 
 " Well, I received a confidential circular to-day telling me 
 that they had reason to believe, from signs which they do not 
 think could mislead, that there was going to be a revival in 
 British agricultm'e at an early date, and that they were 
 willing to negotiate loans for a short period at less than half 
 .the rate I have been able to get accommodation from 
 Benzance Boss, the money-lender in Piccadilly." 
 
 " Take my advice," said Sir Artegal, " give that firm a 
 wide berth. There is a snare in that offer." 
 
 " Really," said he, " and what must I do? ' Needs must 
 when the devil drives ; ' and I would rather go to Grlogoul 
 and Faulmann than face Boss again." So saying, the Duke 
 departed. 
 
 Sir Artegal had hardly seated himself in the library before 
 h£f saw an old college friend, who was now leader writer on 
 the staff of the Daily Tribune. -With a few words of 
 greeting it occurred to Sir Artegal that it might be W3ll to 
 give yovmg Piper a hint. The Daily Tribune had for some 
 years past nobly distinguished itself by the brilliance and 
 intrepidity with which it had espoused the cause of the poor 
 and the oppressed. It had often carried its advocacy far 
 beyond the limits of prudence, being too much given to the 
 belief that philanthropy could secure the success of a business 
 enterprise. But when all allowances had been made, it had 
 exercised for several years a healthy influence in English 
 public opinion. It was alert, brimful of fight, and with a 
 positive passion for flying at the highest game. 
 
 Piper was one of the. young lions of its staff, and from old 
 acquaintance Sir Artegal felt that he would be justified in 
 giving him some inkling as to what was going to happen. 
 
 " I see the Tribuw," said Sir Artegal somewhat drily, 
 " has been going the way of all the papers, and falling down 
 and worshipping at the shrine of Ping Yang Yaloo." 
 
 " Well," said Piper, " just think of it. Half a million of 
 money to be spent in relief works. It is enough to put 
 our aristocracy to shame.- My chief is going to write a 
 regular scorcher, and .he told me to browse around, 
 and pick up a few illustrations with which to drive his 
 arguments in." 
 
 " Well," said Sir Artegal drily, " it would be very bad if I 
 should spoil your scorcher. Will you oblige me by coming 
 with me to the hall to see the latest telegrams ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Piper, wondering what on earth Sir 
 Artegal was up to. 
 
 As they entered the hall, the tape machine ticked off a 
 message, which, on being posted up, read as follows : — 
 
 Shanghai.— This morning. Smarting quoted ten per cent, 
 lower than yesterday's rates. 
 
 " Do you know what that means ? " said Sir Artegal, 
 pointing to the quotation. 
 
 " No," said Piper. 
 
 " It means," said Sir Artegal quietly, " that Ping Yang 
 Yaloo has pi lyed the card which has been feared for long, 
 and the mills, employing 20,000 hands, will be closed to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " You don't say so," said Piper. 
 
 " You may take that to your Chief from me as a fact. 
 You may add also that I haves. reason to suspect a gigantic 
 conspiracy on the part of this said philanthropic Mandarin, 
 the ultimiite object of which would-be to leave both our 
 commerce and our lands absolutely at the mercy of this 
 Mongolian millionaire. Nothing that has ever been dreamed 
 of in ' Ci.rners ' approaches the game which he is playing. 
 You know I do not speak lightly," said Sir Artegal. " I 
 never talk to newspaper men about affairs, but it seems to 
 me the present situation justifies the departure from my 
 usual rule." ' 
 
 That conversation was brief. But the evident earnestness 
 of Sir Artegal produced its effect. The next morning, when 
 every one turned to the Djily Tribune, expecting to find a 
 scathing onslaught against aristocratic selfishness, with any 
 amount of magniloquent reference to the union of religion 
 and democracy, which was to bear such splendid results 
 at the Memorial Hall — an onslaught which was to call in 
 thunder-tones upon the pampered., peers to provide work 
 for a starving people — they found a . leading article, full 
 of dark, mysterious "menace. The writer, taking "Fall of 
 Shirtings " as his -text, pointed out that, by the absolute 
 monopoly of the cotton market, the great Chinese Mandarin 
 was able to crush out the last remnants of the cotton indus- 
 try in England, and that after this was done there was 
 nothing to hinder him from raising his prices to any figure 
 he pleased. " It is curious charity," the article concluded, 
 " which provides millions in DerTjyshire for building a Little 
 Wall of China round Chatsworth, when at the same moment 
 the same number oi men are deprived of an opportunity of 
 earning good wages by the arbitrary will of the' Mongolian 
 millionaire." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 . A .SCENE IN BO0VEBIE STREET. 
 
 yjVHBN Glogoul opened his,- Daily Tribune the next 
 III morning he could hardly believe his eyes. Up to 
 ^^^ this moment everything had been going swimminglj' 
 for the great game.- He had taken a good deal of 
 pains partly to bribe and partly to humour -the other papers, 
 in order to induce them to turn a blind eye on the possible 
 d mgers of his operations, but the Daily Tribune had been 
 so eager in supporting anything and everything that tended 
 to give immediate relief to the unemployed, that he was quite 
 dumbfounded when that paper showed a disposition suddenly 
 to double back on its track. 
 
 The moment Faulmann entered the sanctum a long 
 consultation took place. The result was a cipher cablegram 
 to Shanghai, the reply to which came back in a few hours, 
 with the one monosyllable, "Buy ! " ' 
 
 Dr. Glogoill threw the cablegram over to Faulmann, with 
 the remark, " That's your business,"-..and departed. 
 
 Faulriiann -had a lively remembrance of an adventure 
 which a' ^compatriot of his had experienced when Mr. 
 Walledoff had sent him on a commission to buy any paper 
 that might be worth having in the London market. That 
 gentleman's method was marked by a primitive, not to say 
 barbarian simplicity. It was not Fauknann's idea of con- 
 ducting a delicate operation, to jump into a hansom and 
 dnve down to Bouverie Street, rush upstairs calling- for 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 the proprietor, and then to blurt out, almost before they had 
 Slid " Good morning," that he wished to buy his paper. 
 
 At the same tinie Ping Yang Yaloo's business required 
 haste, and it would not do to fool around the bush, so he 
 sat for a moment and wondered. Then something occurred to 
 ■ him which seemed to give him pleasure, for he smiled, got up 
 and walked backwards and forwards for a time, as if he 
 were unravelling a clue. ' Then he , smiled again, and sat 
 down and rang for his bank-book. His balance was very 
 high. They had only the previous week received a remit- 
 tance of half-a-million from' Shanghai, which had been 
 placed for the moment in tbeir d rawing Recount ; then, 
 'taking a blank cheque with hiin, he drove off, not to 
 Bouverie Street, but to Waterloo Station, from which he 
 took a ticket to Leatherhead. 
 
 Now, at Leatherhead there lived no newspaper proprietor 
 nor newspaper editor, but a gentleman who was well known 
 by Mr. Paulmann as the legal adviser to the proprietors of 
 the Daily Tribune. 
 
 ' A short time before he had been lunching with this 
 gentleman, who had in the course of a friendly gossip told 
 him with what difficulty he had just extricated the Tribune 
 from a worrying libel suit. It was one of those cases in 
 which the editor had allowed his natural and justifiable 
 indignation to outrun the producible evidence of the truth 
 of the facts upon which he Was commenting. It had cost 
 the proprietor £5,000 in hard cash to get out of the law- 
 suit, which, if it had been pressed, would have resulted in 
 his incarceration in HpUoway Graol. It was the memory of 
 the freshness of this experience, and of the unpleasant 
 exigencies of his position, which encouraged him to hope 
 tliat he might be able to execute his commission. 
 
 He found his legal friend at home. He was surprised at 
 receiving a visit from Faulmann at that time of day. 
 The latter cautiously opened negotiations. 
 
 " I think," said he, " that your proprietor of the Tribune 
 was somewhat badly hit over that lawsuit." 
 
 " Well, nothing like he might have been hit had it not 
 been for me," said the lawyer cheerily. 
 
 " Just so," said he ; " but even you may not be able to 
 save him over this." 
 
 The lawyer pricked up his ears. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said he. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said Faulmann ; " but I thought it was 
 more friendly to come and see you at once, than to let things 
 go any further." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Have you seen the Daily Tribune this morning ? " 
 
 " No, I have not looked at it yet ; it is lying in the hall." 
 
 " Well," said Faulmann, " if you will just look at the first 
 leader, I think you wiU understand why it is that I am 
 here." 
 
 The lawyer read the article over very gravely twice. 
 
 " Well," said he, " what about this article ? There is 
 nothing in this article that is not perfectly fair and legiti- 
 mate comment upon a question of public interest." 
 
 "Yes," said Faulmann, opening his eyes with affected 
 simplicity, " I did not come to complain of that article ; I 
 only want to let you understand exactly why it is that I 
 came here." 
 
 " Well," said the lawyer, looking somewhat mystified, " if 
 you do not wi h to complain of this article, why do you come 
 here?" 
 
 " Because," said Faulmann quietly, " either the writer of 
 that article believes that what he says is true, or he does 
 not. Of course, you and I know that it is not true. It is 
 all moonshine to talk about the mysiery of the Mongolian 
 millionaire, and it is a cruel, unjust libel to suggest that 
 anything but the purest philanthropy has led him to inour 
 
 nich an expense to relieve your overcrowded market of 
 England ; but we need not discuss this article. I am looking 
 to the future." 
 
 " Precisely," said the lawyer. " I am beginning to see 
 your point." 
 
 " Of course you do. You- always see a point quicker 
 than any one else. You know wfeat kind of a man your 
 editor is. If he believes that there is this gigantic con- 
 spiracy, he is certain to use the Tribune day after day to 
 the very uttermost limits to detect, unearth and denounce 
 the conspiracy and all the conspirators." 
 
 " Yes," said tke lawyer ; " 1 guess that is pretty much 
 what he will do. He is game enough to fight." 
 
 '"Precisely," said Faulmann. "Now, as you know, he 
 cannot go very far in that direction without coming across 
 our firm, and I thought it kind and friendly just to come and 
 tell you that, as we are peaceable men and dislike litiga- 
 tion, we never go to court if we 'can avoid it. But the first 
 line that appears in. the Tribune jvhich is actionable — and 
 he sails very near it to-day — will lead to proceedings, if 
 'possible, criminal proceedings, and we shall claim £100,000 
 damages. Of course, we have no wish to do any such thing, 
 and would very much rather that we were let alone ; but the 
 best way to avoid trouble is to face it frankly before it comes. 
 That is my business," added he, with a smile. 
 
 "But, stay!" said the lawyer. "I quite appreciate the 
 danger. I quite see that it would be pretty difficult to 
 ■defend a case against the munificent philanthropist whom you 
 represent ;, but Ructions never cares for those things. Now, I 
 should not be in the least surprised if h^ does not put his 
 foot into it, and commit himself in the vejy next issue ; in 
 fact, I think it might be just as well if I came back to town 
 with you. The position is much too delicate to permit of any 
 fooling around." • • 
 
 " By all means," said Faulmaun, pleased at the thought 
 of having an uninterrupted gossip with the lawyer all the 
 way to town.. 
 
 After a glass of wine and a biscuit, Faulmann and his 
 host went down to the station. Finding themselves in a 
 carriage alone, they waxed confidential, and Faulmann 
 intimated delicately — for he always did things delicately — 
 that they had not yet decided upon their legal adviser, and 
 as thsy had a very great deal of business in hand, he would 
 receive it as a favour if Mr. Keeley could suggest a firm to 
 whom they could safely entrust the gigantic interests of 
 their principal. 
 
 Keeley's eyes twinkled. " My dear Faulmann," said he, 
 " why not give that to me ? " 
 
 " But," taid P^aulmaim, " I never dreamed that you would 
 be willing to take it." , 
 
 " Take it I " said he, " why not ? You know I have 
 always been delighted to serve you." 
 
 "Well," said Faulmann, "that puts another face upon 
 the matter. I had no idea that I could have your ser- 
 vices, but I shall have to see my partner first, and in the 
 meantime do I understand that you are at liberty to act on 
 our behalf?" 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Keeley, delighted. "It would be 
 good business for both of us," he said cheerfully. 
 
 Then Mr. Faulmann drew back, and for a whole five 
 minutes he never spoke. At last, after making up his 
 mind as if for a great deliberation, he approached Mr. Keeley 
 and said, almost in a whisper — 
 
 " You are legal adviser to the DaJy Tribune, are you 
 not ? " 
 
 " Yes," said he ; " but the friendship between us would 
 render it quite impossible for my clients to come to blows." 
 
 " I was not thinking of that," said Mr. Faulmann, and he 
 was silent again. 
 
A Scene in Bouverie Street. 
 
 83 
 
 Befure he broke that silence the door opened and another 
 passenger got into the carriage. All further conversation 
 therefore was interrupted until they arrived at Waterloo. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Keeley, " you will drive straight to 
 Bouverie Street. Where shall I seejfou afterwards ? " 
 
 " I shall be delighted if you will dine with me at my 
 <!lub," said he. 
 
 ' All right," said Keeley. " At half-past seven to-night." 
 
 When Keeley reached Bouverie Street, he found affairs in 
 a very lively condition in the office, and Mr. Euotions was 
 <;loseted with the Eev. Tomkins Potts, who, full of righteous 
 indignation, had come down to denounce the editorial in the 
 Tribune as altogether unworthy of the situation. 
 
 "What was the use of having an orgaln of the British 
 Democracy if, at the very critical moment, it was to go over 
 to the enemy in that fashion ? " 
 
 Mr. Euctions mildly intimated that, after all, even the 
 «ditor of an organ had some right to have a judgment, and 
 that he was responsible for his own editorials. 
 
 " What ! " said Potts, indigaantly storming up and down. 
 ■"Tou d.ire to quote your judgment, your own and unaided 
 judgment, against the clear leadings of Providence, shown 
 by the union between associated labour and the whole 
 church of God ! Why, it is preposterous, sir ! " 
 
 Mr. Ructions was a patient man, and accustomed to the 
 •outpourings of the righteous. He therefore only said, 
 " I think we must agree to differ." 
 
 "We must not agree to differ," said Tomkins Potts, 
 stamping his foot upon the floor of the office. " I am here, 
 as a "del&gate from the executive committee appointed at the 
 Memorial 'Hall yesterday, to insist that you shall- " 
 
 " Insist, Mr. Potts ! " said Mr. Euctions, turning pale. 
 ■" What right have you to insist as to how the Tribune shall 
 be conducted ? " 
 
 There was a menacing note in the editor's voice which 
 showed his companion he had gone too far. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Potts. "We aH know 
 that you are quite sound. No one is sounder in all 
 England ; but even Jupiter sometimes nods, and able editors 
 may sometimes make a slip. Come now, do not let us 
 get to words about it. The fact is, that we have always 
 relied upon the Tribune to bs our banner-bearer in the fray, 
 and we are truly at a loss to account for your extraordinary 
 article of yesterday. Never was there such a chance for 
 striking a deadly blow at the Peers. But all can be 
 re-estabhshed, and what we want is a real scorcher of the 
 old type — one that will raise blisters wherever it touches. 
 
 "Eeally, Euctions," continued he, extending his hand 
 with a bland smile. " I feel this is a personal matter. 1 feel 
 ashamed to call Ping Yang Yaloo a heathen. The old pagan 
 philanthropist in Shanghai has put us to shame, and I felt 
 humihated to think that so magnificent, so truly Christiaj 
 — as I may really call it — an initiative on his part had met 
 with such a response in the organ which we have for so long 
 been proud to follow." 
 
 Ructions shook his head, and said nothing. 
 
 Potts had no sooner disappeared thaa Keeley came in. 
 
 " Oh," said Euctions, with a sigh, " I am so glad to see 
 you ! The fact is, I have had a whole series of statements 
 from various quarters which leads me to the very grave 
 suspicion that we are on the verge of the worst conspiracy 
 against the free governijient of this country, and against the 
 prosperity of the people, that has ever been conceived." , 
 
 Mr. Keeley looked with a quick piercing glance at 
 Euctions. 
 
 " Ah ! " he thought, " my good friend has got on to his 
 hobby-horse, and it is running away with him. Now I 
 must check this." 
 " What do you mean, Mr. Euctions ? " 
 
 " I mean about this Ping Yang Yaloo." 
 
 " I thought so," said Keeley. 
 
 " Have you heard anything ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Keeley, " that is why I am here. I have 
 just had a visit from the representative of Ping Yang Yaloo 
 to complain of the article in to-day's paper, and to give me 
 formal notice that, if nother line appears in the same sense 
 as that article, they will bring an action against the Tribune, 
 claiming £100,000 damages." 
 
 Mr. Euctions sprang from his chair. 
 
 " There ! That is the last Hnk that I wanted, in order to 
 prove the conspiracy. They know that we are on their 
 trail, and now they have come to you to try to gag me. 
 But they shall do nothing of the kind ; no matter what you 
 say." 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Ructions," said Mr. Keeley shortly. " Sit 
 down. I have something to say to you." 
 
 "What have you to. say?" said Mr. Euctions. 
 
 " You remember," said Mr, Keeley quietly, " the trouble I 
 got you out of about a month ago ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Euctions ; " I remember. It was very 
 good of you. It only cost £5,000 ; it liiight have cost us 
 £20,000." 
 
 " Precisely," said Mr. Keeley. " You know I have always 
 been your friend. I Uke you personally, and I think you 
 conduct the paper admirably. I shall be very sorry J;o see 
 you come to grief. Mark mj' words, Mr. Euctions, you will 
 inevitably upset the apple-cart if you hav« any more such 
 articles." . • 
 
 " I am going to write one. I wiU go to the uttermost 
 lengths." : : ' ,•« -, 
 
 " Stay ! " said Mr. Keeley. " It is all very well for you 
 to talk like that if the Daily Tribune is your own paper;". ,. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Ructions, " it is not my own property, but 
 I have a free hand." ■ 1 1 1 .,a 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Keeley, " so long as you are on it, but no 
 longer." > ' 
 
 Mr. Euctions was striding backwards and forwards in thb 
 room. Stopping in front of Mr. Keeley, he said, " What do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Only this — ^by-the-bye, may I smoke ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Have a cigar ? " 
 
 " No, I never smoke in the office." 
 
 " I think it would do you good, then. I think it would 
 calm your nerves. Never get excited when you are discus- 
 sing business. Now I am going to tell you something I 
 never told you before. When I got my cheque from youjT 
 proprietor for the £5,000, he took me aside and spoke to 
 me seiously about you. He said that he liked you. very 
 well, but he could not afford to ]iay away thousands of 
 liounds like dirt in this fashion, and tliat he would really 
 like me to consider whether or not he should give you 
 notice." ~-^ . . 
 
 " Hs said that ?" exclaimed Euctions, starting • friom his 
 chair " He did ? The scoundrel ! " 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Euctions, don't lose your temper. I 
 told him that I thought it would bo u thousand pities to 
 terminate the relation between you ; that he could not find 
 any oie to fill your place as well aa you filled it; that libel 
 suits were accidents to wliich every man was open ; ' and soon 
 I talked him out of it. But I could not induce him to abandon 
 it entirely. His last words to me were — ' Well, Keeley, I do 
 nothing this time, but if ever Euctions gets into another libel 
 suit, he goes ; he goes that moment.' " 
 
 " I am glad you told me that," said Euctions calmly. 
 " Because it makes my duty quite clear." 
 
 " It is ? " said Mr. Keeley. 
 
 " To hand in my resignation at once." 
 
84 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 " Come," said Keeley, " don't be a fool." 
 
 "No," said Ructijns. "Tliat is just what I do not want 
 to be," and, seizing a memorandum, lie began writing his 
 resignation as editor of the Daily Tribune. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Keeley, as he sat watching him, 
 "what an idiot you are! What" conceivable good will 
 that d« you, or your case, or any one else, writing in this 
 headstrong fashion ? " 
 
 " Well, but," said he, " what can I do ? Here I am with 
 the evidence in my possession of this conspiracy, assailed by 
 people who do not know the facts, because I hate" gonfe so ' 
 far, and yet I am not to bs allowed to go any further." 
 
 " No," said Keeley. " You have just got to keep quiet, 
 and do nothing." . 
 
 " I'll be hanged if I will!" and he signed the resignation 
 with a great flourish. 
 
 " Now," sa\d Keeley, 
 " 1 will see your pro- 
 prietor and put the case 
 before him, and come 
 back here at ten. It 
 is not a deadly matter. 
 But do not go and 
 throw yourself out of 
 a situation, and gener- 
 ally put your proprietor 
 to the great inconveni- 
 ence of finding a new 
 editor at the very short- 
 est notice. ^ Besides, my . 
 dear Ructions, I do not 
 believe you have got', 
 any evidence to prove 
 any such conspiracy, . 
 and I do not believe 
 there is any conspiracy." ■ 
 
 "But there is," said 
 Ructions. " I do not 
 mean to say that I have 
 got legal evidence that 
 I can produce in court, 
 but I have got evidence 
 that has convinced me." 
 
 " Just so ; but evi- 
 dence that cannot bs 
 produced in court is not 
 evidence at all, from 
 my point of view ; and 
 really you are not justi- 
 fied in going into this matter until I, as your legal alviser, 
 can assure you that you are on safe ground." 
 
 Leaving the editor, the lawyer drove to the sanctum of the 
 proprietor. He found that personage in a very ugly humour. 
 He had been badgered all day by persons who had called 
 upon him to expostulate about the article in the Tribune. 
 The moment Keeley entered his room, he said, " I tell you 
 what it is : I wish I had sacked this man. Instead of 
 sacking him as I wanted to, you've let me into this-! " 
 
 " Come, come," said Mr. Keeley, " he is a very good editor. 
 Besides, there may be more in it than we know." 
 
 " More in it I I do not care what there is in it ! 
 He is a perfect fool — that man ; not by being foolish, but 
 by being too wise. He is always writing to-day about con- 
 tingencies that only develop themselves on the day after 
 to-morrow ; whereas, if he would only be a dxy behind the 
 fair, instead of being a day before, we might get some pick- 
 ings. And upon my word," said the proprietor, as he sank 
 into a chair, " upon my word, I am heartily sick of it. I 
 wish Mr. WaUedcff, or any other man, would buy the paper. 
 
 THE BDITOB SPKANQ FKOM HIS CHAIE. 
 
 lock, stock, and barrel. It would be a good riddance. I ana 
 
 sick and tired of the whole thing. People think it is all 
 
 cakes and ale being a newspaper proprietor. If they had my 
 
 place for a week they might know better." 
 
 " Come, come," said Keeley ; " I have just left the office, 
 
 where I have been trying to keep Ructions quiet. He is 
 
 bent upon following up the line he has taken to-day." 
 " That he will not ! " said Mr. Holmes viciously — " that 
 
 he will not do I " and he began to write a letter to the 
 
 editor. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Keeley, " this looks as though things 
 
 are coming to a crisis between you. What is the best way 
 
 to get out of it ? " 
 
 "I had better give him three months'' notice," said 
 
 Mr. Holmes, with a sigh, " or pay his salary for that time, 
 
 and replace him with 
 some one who will go 
 straight, and not kick 
 over the traces in this 
 diabolical fashionl 
 Upon my word, I have 
 no patience for this ! 
 Why, even the Daily 
 News is enthusiastic 
 about the Memorial Hall 
 meeting; and here is 
 Ructions, of all men in 
 the world, undertaking 
 to throw cold water down 
 
 the back of this " 
 
 But here Mr. Holmes 
 stopped. He could not 
 find enough eloquence 
 with which to express 
 his indignation. 
 
 Mr. Keeley was sileot 
 a bit, as if thinking. 
 Then he said to him — 
 
 " Mr. Holmes, would - 
 you really like to sell 
 the paper ? " 
 
 "What?" said he^ 
 " Sell the paper ? No; 
 certainly not ! Who 
 put such an idea into 
 your head ? " 
 
 " Nobody'," said Mr. 
 Keeley ; " I thought 
 you said so just now." 
 " Sell the paper, indeed ! Why, 
 
 " but properties can be 
 
 " No,'' said Mr. Holmes, 
 look what a property it is ! 
 
 " Yes," said Keeley indifferently 
 bought." 
 
 " I would not sell it— no, not for £250,000 ! " 
 
 "That is a good deal of money," said Mr. Keeley, 
 " especially as you only paid £25,000 for it ten years ago." 
 
 " Yes, but look what a position it has. Why, there is not 
 a paper in London that has the pull we have to-day." 
 
 " That is rather Ructions' doing, isn't it?" said Keeley. 
 
 " I would put another man in his place. There are as good 
 fish in the sea as ever were got out." 
 
 " Well, he might make it awkward," said Keeley, drumming 
 on the _ table. " Let us look at the question practically. 
 If Ructions goes and finds some one else to back him to the 
 tune of £250,000, would you be disposed to listen ? " 
 
 "No, I would not. Not a penny less than £300,000. 
 For £300,000— there ! you can take it I For £300,000, and 
 he may have the Tribune, or any one else, but not a 
 penny less ; not for Ructions, or for anybody." 
 
Roping Them In. 
 
 85 
 
 Mr. Keeley, having obtained what he wanted, took up his 
 
 &at and departed. 
 
 He met Mr. Faulmann at half-past seven. At 9.30 he 
 
 liad his cheque for £300,000 in his pocket, and was driving 
 
 rapidly down to Bouverie Street. • 
 
 He found Ructions looking even more pale and distraught 
 
 than he was in the afternoon. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Keeley, I am glad to see you ! I am very much 
 
 fcothered. The very information on which I relied to prove 
 
 the conspiracy has disappeared, and I have had a deputation 
 
 from the • Toilers' Industrial League, declaring that I have 
 
 been guilty of the cruellest injustice to the most benevolent 
 
 philanthropistof our time; and I would not like to feel," 
 
 said he, " that I have been unjust to anybody." And the 
 
 ■good fellow looked troubled. 
 
 " Never you mind," said Mr. Keeley. " I have seen 
 
 Mr. Holmes, and I have seen the other people, too. I wi'U 
 
 tell you what we have fixed up. Believe me, there is no 
 
 truth about this 
 
 story of con- 
 spiracy. There is 
 
 no conspiracy, and, 
 
 what is more, Mr. 
 
 Holmes is per- 
 fectly infatuated 
 
 with admiration 
 
 for Ping Yang 
 
 Yalco. The fact 
 
 is, if it had not 
 
 ■been for me, he 
 
 would have written 
 
 to you a letter 
 
 which would have 
 
 forbidden you to 
 .say another word 
 
 against Ping Yang 
 
 Yaloo." And Mr. 
 
 Keeley rubbsd his 
 
 hands and laughed 
 
 ■cheerfully. 
 
 " I do not care 
 
 what he does. 
 
 You see, I am 
 
 awfully driven jus t 
 
 now. My youngest 
 
 ■child is lying be- 
 tween life and 
 ■death at home, and. 
 
 I am shorthanded, as I have had to send Piper off down to 
 
 Derbyshire to look into the matter on the spot, and I do not 
 
 know really .which way to turn." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Keeley, who was a good-hearted 
 .man on the whole, and who knew too' well what fate was 
 
 hanging over Ructions' head. " Do not disturb yourself. 
 •Ma,A time. Leave the whole question open, and wait until 
 •■e vents . prove themselves. Do not publish another line of 
 
 editorial about the whole subject until you see me 
 again." 
 
 "All right," said Ructions, shaking his hand. "You 
 have always been a good friend of mine. I think that is 
 the best advice on the whole." 
 
 " I am quite sure it is," said Keeley. " Good-night, and get 
 ■away home, and to bed." 
 
 Ten minutes later Mr. Keeley handed in Mr. Faulmann's 
 cheque to Mr. Holmes, and received from him in return 
 formal instructions to draw up a transfer of the Daily 
 Tribune, and all the appurtenances thereof, to Messrs. 
 Glogoul and Faulmann. The whple transaction, however, 
 was to be kept a profound secret. 
 
 DAYLIGHT STILL FOUND HIM AT HIS VIGIL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOPING THEM IN. 
 
 'HEX the Editor reached home he found his child 
 much worse. His wife, harassed by long suffering, 
 was threatened with imminent collapse. Wearily 
 the editor turned to watch by the sick bed of -his 
 little one, who was tossing and moaning unconsciously. His 
 wife had lain down to get a little sleep. He Wiis alone, and 
 there was no sound in the chamber except the ticking of the 
 timepiece and the occasional moan of the little sufferer. 
 Ructions had been uiider a severe strain for some time, 
 and now he felt that everything was breaking beneath 
 him. It was doubtful whether the child would be able 
 to live through another day, his wife was distraught and 
 wearied with long watching, and he was perplexed 
 when confronting the inexplicable problems of life, and 
 half wondered whether it wou'.d not be better for the child 
 
 to be taken away 
 from this evil world 
 and be at peace. 
 That did not, how- 
 ever, prevent him 
 from gently 
 smoothing the 
 pillow of the little 
 one, and giving it 
 the draught which 
 had to be ad- 
 ministered every 
 half - hour. Day- 
 light stiU found 
 him at his vigil 
 beside the bedside 
 of the child, who 
 seemed, thank Gcd, 
 to be sleeping a 
 little more quietly. 
 The dim twilight 
 which preceded 
 sunrise gave place 
 to the grey light 
 of a winter morn- 
 ing, and still he 
 was revolving 
 many things, and 
 wondering after all 
 whether life was 
 not a hideous mistake, and, that in endeavouring to make 
 things a little better, he was only making confusion worse 
 confounded. 
 
 He sat there, chewing the cud of many bitter thoughts, 
 when the sharp rat-tat of the postman roused him from his 
 reveries. It was the rude intrusion of the outer world, and 
 he hastened to the door to receive his mail. There was only 
 one letter, and that in the handwriting of Mr. Keeley. He 
 opened it mechanically, not carinig to speculate' as to what 
 its contents might be. It was very brief and very kind. It 
 ran thus : — 
 
 . My dear Ructions, — I was very distressed tn see you 
 looking so ill to-day. I have talked the matter over with 
 Mr. Holmes, and we have agreed that you must have an 
 instant rest and change of air. Please find cheque ini'losed 
 for £250, with which you will be able to take your wife and 
 little one abroad as soon as it recovers, as I have no doubt it 
 ■will, Mr. Piper will take your place in your absence. 
 
 At any other time Ructions would have been indignant at 
 this sudden arrangement for his absence from the paper 
 which he had conducted, and whose prosperity he had built 
 
86 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 up year after year. But on the whole he felt that it was 
 the best that could have happened. He was fearfully run 
 down, he knew, and he was in no fit condition to wage the 
 life and death struggle which would he involved if that 
 conspiracy really existed which he felt it might be his duty 
 to unmask. Clearly the way opening before him was the best, 
 and languidly dismissing the subject from his mind, he 
 turned to his child's sick bed. To his great satisfaction he 
 saw that the little one had opened its eyes and was looking 
 at him quietly, and without any of. the feverish fitfuluess 
 which it had previously exhibited. He felt its pulse, took 
 its temperature, and a great thankfuhiess came into "his 
 heart. It seemed as if after all the little one was to be 
 given back to them. 
 
 When he was still in the first glow of delight at the un- 
 expected blessing of returning hope the door opened and his 
 wife came in. She had slept soundly for six hours and felt 
 that her strength had come. hack. She, saw the change 
 in the child at once, and she exclaimed with joy, " Oh, 
 George ! " and could say no more. They both bent over the 
 coueh in which their little one was lying, the whole being of 
 boih blending, as it were, in an exultation of gratitude too 
 , fervent to find expression in words. 
 
 That afternoon, when Mr. Ructions came down to the office, 
 he found Mr. Piper already installed in his place. " Taken 
 charge already, you see," said Piper pleasantly. " The fact 
 is, we were all alarmed about you, and' you must not put a 
 pen to paper for another three months. Of course we shall 
 be delighted to have your instructions," he continued 
 deferentially, " but you have to go right away and leave us 
 to steer the ship as best we can." 
 
 "How did you come back ? " asked Ructions. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Keeley telegraphed for me ; said you were ill, and 
 that I had to come back and take charge." 
 
 " Did you find anything ? " asked Ructions. 
 
 "No," said Piper, "everything seems all straight there. 
 It is surprising the number of men they have at work from 
 . the Peak to Ripley. The men are as thick as bees all 
 along the line of the Little Wall of China. I can't say I 
 like it very much," he added, " but after all there is work 
 being done, and being paid for too. He is putting on who- 
 ever will do a day's work, and they are made to work and 
 no mistake." 
 
 "Well, well," said Ructions, "keep your weather-eye 
 open in that quarter while I am away, and wire me at once 
 if things come to a crisis." 
 
 " All right," replied Piper, whereupon Ructions sat .down 
 and wrote cordial letters to Mr. Keeley and Mr. Holmes, and 
 L-ft the sanctum which had been the scene of his, early 
 triumphs, never to return to, .it, more. Of that, however, 
 he knew nothing, and with a light heart he set off home 
 to find that his child was progressing favourably, and that 
 the doctor held out every hope that in a few days, they 
 would be able to remove her to the south coast, from 
 whence after a short stay they were to proceed to the South 
 of France, there to forget in the land of fiowers the cares 
 and the worries of the last six months. 
 
 The same morning Paulmann told. Grlogoul how he had 
 fared in his negotiations for the i3urchase of the Tribune. 
 
 " That is right," said Grlogoul ; " we must not appear in it 
 at all ; be warned by the ghastly mess that Walledoff made 
 when he bought the Latter Day Gazette. There must be 
 no ostensible change in the ownership, the editorship, or the 
 policy of the paper. Keeley will see that nothing appears 
 which is calculated to damage us, and it will not be difficult 
 to work the oracle so as to convince the enthusiasts who 
 get the paper that they are really carrying out their own 
 programme. Meantime you ha:d better see Sir Peter again 
 and ascertain how things are going." 
 
 When ,Paulmann reached Kensington he found Sir Peter 
 indisposed. " My wife," he said, " will tell you everything. 
 Talk to her as if you were talking to me." 
 
 Paulmann, who naturaUy distrusted women, was inclined 
 at first to depart in a huff, but on second thoughts he 
 decided to see Lady Dorothy, and he had not been five 
 minutes in the room before he saw that .he had decided 
 wisely. She spoke as if she had an absolute right. of 
 ownership in Sir Peter, and assumed throughout with,' a 
 , certain calm confidence, that whatever she decided should be 
 done, would be carried out. She expressed a violent 
 antipathy to the aristocracy, and exulted in the success of 
 the agitation which her dear Mr. Bradford was conducting: 
 . ",Yes," said Mr. Faulmann, "that is alL very welh; but 
 now I am here I would hke to suggest to you whether 
 something could not be done to reduce the glut of the labour 
 market." 
 
 " I wish there could," she replied. " But what do you 
 suggest?" 
 
 " Well," said Faulmann, " when there is not enough work 
 to go round, what do we do in order to secure a fair, distribu- 
 tion of wages ? We run short time, do we not ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said hesitatingly. 
 
 "Now," said Paulmann, "do you not think that the time 
 has come for a vigorous agitation for a six hours' day and 
 whole holidays on Saturdays, especially in the textile 
 trades?" 
 
 " It sounds well," said Lady Dorothy ; " and no overtime, 
 of course ? " 
 
 " Of course no overtime," said Faulmann. " Overtime 
 would spoil everything." 
 
 "But," she asked, "what about wages?" 
 
 " Oh," said Faulmann airily, " we must always stand for 
 the living wage ! " 
 
 " But how would you define the living wage ? " asked 
 Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " The livingwage,'' said Faulmann pompously, " is 'the irre- 
 ducible minimum of wage upon which a working man can 
 keep himself and family in decent comfort;, but practically,"' 
 he added, with a smile, " the living wage is the actual 
 wage as an irreducible minimum with as much as can be 
 added to it by judicious agitation." 
 
 " I see," said Lady Dorothy, " a five-days' week, a six- 
 hours' day, and a living wage never to fall below the present 
 rate. That would no doubt catch on." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Faulmann. " I hope Sir 
 Peter will introduce a Bill to that effect next session." 
 
 " Oh," said Lady Dorothy, " certainly ! There will be n6>,, 
 difficulty about that." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," said Faulmann, half sarcastically ; 
 and then, seeing that he had put things in train, he rose 
 to go. 
 
 Sir Peter, whose indisposition did not seem to have been 
 very severe, was playing billiards with a friend. 
 
 " When you have finished your game," said Lady 
 Dorothy, looking in, " I should like to have a few words 
 with you." 
 
 Half an hour afterwards he came up to her little office, 
 " My dear," she said, " pray take a seat. Everything is 
 going beautifully. You are to make a speech at an early 
 date, in which you must express your opinion that the time 
 has coijie for a new . departure, and that, in view of the 
 increasing lack of employment, it is necessary to put the 
 textile industry of the country, as a .beginning, upon the 
 footing of sis hours a day and five days a week." 
 
 Sir Peter stared at her for a moment, and then repeated, 
 " Six hours a day and five days a week ; and what about 
 wages then ? " 
 
 " Oh," said she glibly, " the living wage is to he insisted 
 
Roping Them In. 
 
 87 
 
 upon ! There are to be no reductions ; that, of course, is a 
 sine qua non." • , 
 
 " But," objected Sir Peter, " there is practically no cotton 
 industry left in the country." 
 
 " So much the easier," she replied, " to lay down sound 
 principles —there will be no vesteJPinterests to stan^ _in the 
 ■way." ; ' ■ '• ; /. 
 
 "Yes," said Sir Peter, "but is it not locking the door 
 after the steed is stolen ? " 
 
 . " Never you mind that," said Lady Dorothy authorita- 
 tively ; " you must have something to give body and sub- 
 stance to your labour programme. I am just going to tele- 
 graph' for Bradford. You will get the Bill drafted, dear, 
 won't you ? "^ 
 
 ; He. shrugged, his shoulders with a kind of despairing 
 acquiescence and returned to his billiards, saying to himself, 
 " It is too mad for anything ; but we must play the game, I 
 suppose. At any rate," he added languidly, " she no longer 
 bores me with her caresses." 
 
 And with good reason. Sir Peter had long since ceased 
 even to disguise his distaste for such demonstrations ; but 
 there was another who in the ardour of his youthful devotion 
 would have rejoiced to kiss even the hem of her garment. 
 As it was, he was by no means confined to such Lenten fare, 
 and Lady Dorothy experienced in the ardour of his affection 
 something of the afterglow of the days of her somewhat 
 skittish youth. 
 
 " Well, Algernon dear," she said, as he entered and covered 
 her hand with kisses, " how goes the campaign ? " 
 
 " Bravely, Lady Dorothy," said he ; " nothing could go 
 better. I have found an invaluable assistant who is going 
 to stand for Blankshire." 
 
 " Really ! " said Lady Dorothy. " Where young Wilkes 
 was defeated ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it is the man who defeated him.'' 
 
 " You don't mean Lord Bulstrode ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear me, no : I mean a Mr. Brassy. A wonderful 
 man ; knows every inch of the ground, and a marvellous 
 organiser. He says that he knows of at least twelve good 
 men and true who are ready to start for any part of England 
 if their expenses are paid, and who will advocate any pro- 
 gramme your ladyship pleases. They have such implicit 
 confidence in your judgment, you see, my queen," he added, 
 looking up into her face with an almost ecstatic devotion. 
 
 " Oh, you siUy boy ! " she said, passing her hand smoothly 
 over his face. " What nonsense, to talk like that to an old 
 woman like me." 
 
 The young man started as if some one had stung him. 
 " Don't say that," he said bitterly, as if he were going to cry. 
 
 "Don't say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. 
 
 " Don't call .yourself old," he said impetuously.- " What 
 are a few years by an almanack ? To me you are radiant in 
 immortal youth." 
 
 "Now, really, Algernon," said Lady Dorothy, "if you 
 talk such nonsense I shall have to send you away, and we 
 have so much business to transact." Then cutting short 
 all further protestations she unfolded to him the new 
 programme. He agreed that it was superb ; but how was it 
 to be launched ? 
 
 "Oh, Sir Peter will do that! " said Lady Dorothy, "and 
 you will see that the Tribune will take it up eagerly, and 
 after a time all the Liberal papers will come into line." 
 
 " Sir Peter 1" said Algernon, with an absent look. The 
 young man was thinking in his vanity of the day when the 
 promulgation of the new programme would be relegated, 
 not to the husband who was on the retired list, but'to the 
 lover with whoni it was arranged. 
 
 Lady Dorothy smiled to herself as she divined the train 
 of thought passing through his mind. 
 
 " Never mind, dear," she said consolingly ; " the whole 
 success of the programme will depend upon you." Where- 
 upon she tenderly pressed bis hand, and he, grasping hers 
 in both of 'his, raised it to his Ups, pressed it passionately, 
 and then departed. 
 
 - No sooner had he gone than Lady Dorothy touched her 
 bell. Her secretary appeared- "Isabel," she said, "you 
 know where the Bev, Dawson Johnson lives ? " 
 
 " Yes ! ".replied her factotum. : 
 
 "Put on' your hat and tell him I want to see him on 
 important business at once." 
 
 . In, five minutes the Hev. Dawson Johnson was closeted 
 with her ladyship. "Lady Dorothy was one of those 
 philosophers to iwhom all religions are equally false, and one 
 of th,ose politicians to whom they, are all equally useful, 
 ^he always put in an appearance at tbe Oratory on great 
 occasions, made a point of consulting the Cardinal on all 
 cases of conscience, regularly took communion at the parish 
 church, but at the same time always attended any important 
 gathering among the Nonconformists. The Eev. Dawson 
 Johnson was one of her protegei. It was he who certified 
 to her husband's admiring constituents the liberality with 
 which she contributed to his collections whenever she 
 attended his place of worship, and the good man honestly 
 beheved that Lady Dorothy in her heart of hearts was a 
 Nonconformist. 
 
 " And what new work of mercy is it that you are con- 
 templating now ? " he asked, entering the room as if he were 
 approachiag a shrine, and remaining standing until she 
 begged him .to be seated. 
 
 " Sir Peter is not well, Mr. Johnson," she said. " He is 
 suffering from insomnia, and the other night after he had been 
 tossing restlessly for hours, he said to the, ' Dorothy, love, I 
 cannot bear to think of those poor people down at the Derby- 
 shire relief works without any spiritual cpnsolation. You 
 know there are twenty thousand of them, many cf them with 
 their families, and I am afraid that there is sore need for 
 the faithful ministering of the Word.' " 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Mr. Johnson. " But what 
 can we do ? The charge of the souls of our own congregations 
 lies too heavily upon us to allow the regular ministry to 
 follow these sheep into the wilderness." 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Dorothy, "you don't dream for 
 one moment that Sir Peter, could think of depriving your 
 congregation of your ministry. No, he said to me, 'If you 
 could see Mr. Dawson Johnson and talk it over with him he 
 might be able to arrange for some gospel services. If he 
 would look after the spiritual side I should be glad to 
 attend to the material.' To make a long story short, Mr. 
 Dawson Johnson," she added, " Sir Peter has given me a 
 cheque for a thousand pounds, which he desires me to place 
 at your disposal for this purpose. There is, however, one 
 condition, and that is that you must not allow any one to 
 know to whom you owe this grant. Let not thy right hand 
 know what thy left hand doeth ! But I must apologise for 
 quoting scripture to one who knows it so much better than 
 myself." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Dorothy," said he, as his fingers closed over 
 the cheque, "this is too inuch, too much ! There are indeed 
 some men of whom the world is not worthy." 
 
 Mr. Dawson Johnson hurried home, and immediately 
 told his wife, and she, in the strictest confidence, communi- 
 cated it to ticree of her intimate friends who happened to 
 call that afternoon. By the evening there was not a person 
 in Mr. Dawson Johnson's congregation who did not know 
 the story of Sir Peter's bounty. 
 
 As for Sir Peter himself, when his wife told him what she 
 had done, he merely looked at her with admiration, and 
 remarked, " How you do rope them in ! " 
 
88 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JIMJAMS AND CHOLERA. 
 
 "^^ HANKS to the agitation carried on by the Toilers' 
 fi t\ Industrial League, several of the nobles incurred oon- 
 ^ ^ siderable expenditure in providing work for the unem- 
 . ' .ployed in their immediate vicinity. The Toilers' 
 League insisted that every one who was employed on relief 
 works should be paid full union wages, a rule which they 
 allowed only to be relaxed at the great relief works in 
 Derbyshire, where the men worked for their rations, with an 
 extra allowance if they were accompanied by their wives 
 and families. 
 
 In order to meet expenditure thus forced upon them by 
 jopular agitation, they had recourse to the money-lenders, 
 
 would consent to a 25 per cent, reduction as ransom, this 
 money to be applied in providing relief-works for the 
 unemployed. The scheme was more popular than the Six 
 Hours' Bill, which, however, had been enthusiastically adopted 
 by the Tribune, and was in a fair way of becoming one of 
 the leading planks of the Radical platform. 
 
 As for the brewers, they were for a time at their wits' 
 end. But light at last dawned in the' shape of a communi- 
 cation from Shanghai. The great man's private secretary 
 wrote to Glogoul : " Rejoice, my friend, rejoice! Jimjams is 
 the word; it is jimjams that will do the trick. After many 
 experiments, we have succeeded in extracting from a weed 
 which grows luxuriantly on -our estates in Southern China, 
 an essence which unites all the qualities of all the sedatives, 
 stimulants and narcotics at present known to mankind. The 
 
 TBS, JIMJAMS :fS A SUCCESS. 
 
 and in nine cases out of ten these money-lenders were either 
 Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann or their secret allies. Glogoul 
 was in high spirits, for every week added to the number of 
 tentacles which he was slowly but surely fastening round 
 the estates of the nobility. With the exception of a few 
 ennobled brewers and the owners of town property, he had 
 almost every peer in the realm on his books. He grudged 
 even these exceptions. Brewers and ground landlords must 
 be got at somehow. 
 
 After a consultation with Faulmann, it was decided that 
 the campaign against the ground-rents must be taken up 
 with vigour. The Land Nationalisation League received, 
 through Lady Dorothy, a cheque for £5,000, to be employed 
 in an agitation, the central features of which were derived 
 -from the Plan of Campaign. No more ground-rents were 
 to be paid excepting to trustees of the Toilers' Industrial 
 League. They were to remain banked until the landlords 
 
 essence is made up in pellets about the, size of buckshot: 
 One of these pellets, dissolved in a pint of water will make 
 any one feel jolly, and half a dozen will make the hardest- 
 headed toper gloriously drunk. Before communicating this 
 information to you, we have tried it upon men of all nationali- 
 ties at the Sailors' Home at Shanghai. It affects them all 
 the same. When once .men . have begun to drink jimjams, 
 they will drink nothing else. It is medicinal, aromatic, 
 delightful to the taste, and can be produced for a mere 
 nothing. We have got the secret, and I am convinced that 
 there are millions in it. We are sending you over a first 
 consignment by this mail." 
 
 Glogoul awaited with feverish impatience the arrival ol 
 the parcel. The moment it came Faulmann and he dis- 
 solved a pellet in a tumbler of water and tasted it. It was- 
 pleasant to the palate, and almost immediately it was 
 swallowed the partners were conscious of a benevolent 
 
Jim JAMS AND Cholera. 
 
 89 
 
 feeling towards each other and towards the world at large 
 to which they had been strangers for some time past. 
 Glogoul detected this, and said, " Let us increase the . dose." 
 They did so, and by the- time Faulmann had taken four 
 glasses he was lying helpless on the floor. G-logoul, who 
 had a steadier head, dragged his*artner to a couch and left 
 him there, while he sat down in an easy-chair to analyse 
 his feelings. 
 
 " Yes, jimjams," he said to himself, " is a success. The 
 dreamy sensation it produces is not unlike opium. The 
 eft'ect, boweyer, is much more rapid ; and although I have 
 only taken four pellets, I am beginning to feel something of 
 the hallucinations of hashish. I wonder what the after- 
 effects will 'be?" He determined, however, not to experi- 
 mentalise any more that day. 
 
 In about three hours Paulmann slept off the stupor occa- 
 sioned by the drug, and immediately asked for'somfe more. 
 
 "No," said Glogoul, "jimjams is aU' very 'well for other 
 people, but you and I have to keep our heads cool." 
 
 In vain Faulmann begged and implored to be allowed to 
 have just one more pellet. Glogoul was obdurate. ' " Never 
 again ! " said he ; " we have too' much at stake. But I think 
 I know of something that will cure your craviilg." He 
 went to his cabinet and produced from a secret drawer a pill 
 which he handed to Faulmann, who swallowed it eagerly; 
 In a few minutes the room began to swim round him. • 
 
 " You scoundrel," he shouted, "you have poisoned me ! " • 
 
 " No, I; have not," replied Grlogoul' calmly ; " lie stiUand 
 you will soon be aU right." ' " ' - ' 
 
 Faulmann remembered no more. ■ When he awoke he was 
 alone. His head was .aohingj biit all craving for jimjanas had 
 left him. Next morning Glogoul and he discussed what 
 should be done'. - ' '■ i -■■•"--■ . 
 
 " Its effects," said Glogoul, " are too irnmediate for us to 
 put it into general circulation. It must be "sold as a patent 
 medicine, and- the ihgtedientS'kept a profound secret. But my 
 own opinion is," he added,' " that once the jimjams' mania is 
 set up the patient will go on taking it until it kills him. It 
 will, at any rate,- relieve the pressure of the" labour- market." 
 
 The next'niail, however, brought him anotheir letter' from 
 the great man's secretary. ■ , " We have," he wrote, " at last' 
 found the best way of using' jimjams. It is hot; to supply" 
 the pellets to the public, they are too strong; and' we have 
 found, by experiment, that. if a man once- bsgias taking' 
 them he usually dies- in three nionths.' If, koWever, it is 
 dissolved judiciously in distilled water it 'produces a mild 
 and pleasing .beverage. This is so weak that' even a con- 
 firmed, drunkard will last for one or two years." "'i ' - ■ 
 
 It was after the Teeeipt of this letter that acompany, of 
 which the well-known temperance reformer, JosephBrassy 
 of Rigby, was managing director, was established for the 
 manufacture of the great new temperance- drink, " Jimjams." 
 
 For once it seemed as if the temperance people had 
 invented a popular beverage. The consumption of. beer fell off 
 day by day. There was a perfect rage for the new drink. The 
 beer lords began to look anxiously to the dwindling value of 
 their stock. In vain they tried to rally the market. Prices 
 continued to fall. Then they set to work to combat this new 
 and formidable rival. Stories began to be current as to the 
 ■effect of the jimjams mania on persons of nervous tempera- 
 ment. The brewers produced an appalling array of statistics 
 to show that the habit of drinking jimjams was destructive 
 of what might be called the moral tissue of man. Its 
 victim became lethargic, and soon exhibited all the traces of 
 morphiamania. In many cases sudden death had resulted 
 from the stoppage of the heart's action. These cases were 
 -attributed by the brewers, to the deleterious effects of drink- 
 ing jimjams. Prohibitory legislation was talked of, but the 
 ^jimjamites laughed it to scorn. Sir Peter made an eloquent 
 
 speech denouncing the plutocratic brewers who were trying 
 to deprive mankind of the one innocent drink which would 
 drive intemperance from the land. 
 
 Meanwhile a perfect labyrinth of walls had been con- 
 structed round the Derbyshire estates of Ping Yang Yaloo. 
 It had been the original intention of the firm to run a wall 
 as a kind of ring fence round the whole estate from the 
 Peak in the north to Bipley in the south. But after a 
 careful examination of the rights of way, the roads and the 
 railroads, they decided to make three separate parks. One 
 enclosed the Peak, ■ another had Chatsworth as its centre, 
 while the third was of an irregular shape stretching from 
 Six Elms on the north towards Bipley and Alfreton. "When 
 the outer walls were finished the great hordes of labourers 
 were employed in building extensive lairs, which were all 
 lined with hot water pipes. The exact use of these build- 
 ings none of the -workmen knew.' -■ ' ' ' . 
 
 The President of the Local Government Board sent for 
 Glogoul aid Faulmann one day,- and- inquired what they 
 intended to do -with the 'labourers- wh'en the relief works were 
 finished. They replied . that they co\il4 not undertake to 
 provide ■permanently for all this laboiir ; but if the President 
 had any suggestion to^ make, they ■\vould- submit it to Ping 
 Yang Yalop, who might possibly authorise a further expendir- 
 ture. ■" The-Pfesident thanked thein cordially. ' 
 ■ Ar-tieleii^ appeared in all the'pajjers praising' the generosity 
 of the Chinese millionaire, and- a further sum of £100,000 
 ■was 'granted for the plainting of Ohateworbh.-vyith- Chinese 
 shrubs ■ and ' plants; ■ But, as glogoul sa_id to_ Faulmann, 
 "This is orily a 'palliative; 'nothing short of a good epidemic 
 will solve the 'problem;"- ■■■■ "^ ' " - ' ■■- -• '.- ; • 
 
 If must be admitted that everything seenaed ripe for such 
 a solution' of the difficulty.' The labour camp's 'wtere' filthy. 
 Owing to the provid'eht-kindness' of Glogoul and -Fa"iilma,nn, 
 canteens were ' establishied. ,' in -ea'cK penti-e, from -which 
 practically free drink'-'-was supplied' to' the 'workmen in "the 
 latter-part of their e'hgagemeht;' Jiihjams was supplied' free 
 as' water," and those -who . took' jimjams Very seldoni'took 
 anything else. ■' The debilitated -frarne' of the habitual jim- 
 jams drinker',' the lacklustre eye'and-'the bloodless "fktre, all 
 denoted a pbpulatidn incapable- of ' offeriiig any resistance to 
 any seHous epidermic which might, break out. ' ' ' ' ■"* 
 '■ Glogoul' -wrote to the medical authorities, calling' attention 
 to the ' dangerously insanitary condition of the camps, a'nd 
 Offered " to ■ contribute ■■£10,0013 for-the -establishinent of 
 field-hospitals, ■ where the sick could be treated.- To one 
 of -these- -field-hospitals- -Ethel- -Merrrbel -was- appointed as 
 head-nurse. _She entered upon her task vnth consideirable 
 fdrebodings, but" she was not prepared for the sudden 
 apparition at her hospital of Dr. Glogoul. 
 
 " Miss Merribel," he exclaimed gallantly, " I am delighted 
 to see you ! " 
 
 " But, Dr. Glogoul, I am surprised to see you here." 
 
 ""Why* said Glogoul, "did you not know that all these 
 hospitals are practically of our providing ? " 
 
 " No," s?iid Ethel, " I did not. I wag at the Derby 
 Hospital, and they asked me if I would take charge of this 
 place." 
 
 " I am extremely sorry to see you here all the same," 
 replied Glogoul gravely, " for I am afraid there will be a 
 very bad epidemic." 
 
 " Then it is the very place where I ought to be," she 
 answered, smiling. 
 
 " The work is hard, my dear Miss Merribel," said Glogoul. 
 " I advise you to exchange while yet there is time." 
 There was something so serious in his look that she was 
 alarmed. 
 
 " 'What do you mean ? " she exclaimed. 
 
90 
 
 The Splendid Pa.upers. 
 
 , " It seems to me that it wiU be strange if we escape an 
 outbreak of cholera," he replied. 
 
 " If so," said Ethel, " it is not for me to desert my post," 
 and all expostulations were in vain. 
 
 , Dr. Glogoul, although capabje ,of almost anything in the 
 cause of science, or of what he ppnsidered to be business, 
 shrank from letting loose the cliplera until he could get 
 Ethel Merribel out of the way. .. .finding that she was 
 obstinate, he changed his plan, and as a result the cholera 
 broke out, not in the Ripley- district, as he had at first 
 intended, but in the neighbourhood of the Peak, and spread 
 southwa,rds. The mortality was awful. The disease slew 
 with the virulence of the Black Death. The deaths in the 
 camp which it first struck reached as high as fifty per cent., 
 and the remaining fifty per cent, fled, carrying with them 
 the contagion far and near. By the end, of the month the 
 disease had travelled as far as Ripley, leaving death and 
 desolation in' its wake. Glogoul made a last despairing 
 attempt to induce Miss Merribel to leave the district. 
 
 " No," she replied ; " here I am and here I will remain. 
 I am not going to desert these poor creatures in the hour of 
 their trial." 
 
 " I warned you," he said, " while yet there was time. 
 "Why did you persist in choosing death? " 
 
 "It was my duty," said Ethel simply. 
 
 Glogoul blushed as the pale girl uttered these four words. 
 Some sense of the divine in life glimmered before his 
 hardened soul. He bowed and left the hospital. 
 
 Two days after cbolera struck Ethel Merribel, and she 
 lay prostrate, helpless, among the dying and the dead. She 
 felt that her last hour had come, and with that certainty 
 came a strange sense of ability to see the cause of things, of 
 the invisible agencies which were working such havoc all 
 around. As in the old ■ hospital at Garlam she had seen the 
 spectral forms of Bladud aad Paulinann walking with death in 
 their teucK through the ward, she now saw One moving among 
 the huddled crowd of cholera-stricken wretches, silent as the 
 angef of death, ruthless and remorseless as a fiend from hell. 
 Where his shadow fell, men writhed in torture; where he 
 laid his hand, they stiffened and died. It was in vain they 
 endeavoured to flee from that dreadful presence. And ever 
 as he moved there went before him two fiends which did 
 his bidding. One was the spirit of Envy and Hatred, 
 vhich set clas: against class and divided the masses from 
 the classes, without whom they were but as dumb driven 
 beasts, while an insatiable hunger was stamped , upon the 
 features of the other attendant spirit, and he grasped ever 
 with the hand of Avarice for more and yet more of the 
 world's wealth. 
 
 As she looked, the walls of the hospital seemed to dissolve, 
 and in place of the few wretched sufferers who were groaning 
 and dying around her, she seemed to see the destroying 
 Three go out throiighout the length and the breadth of the 
 land. They spared neither rich nor poor, high or low, fair 
 or foul, and ever as the central figure press.ed on, his 
 attendant spirits made ha,ste to make his way smooth and 
 easy. 
 
 As she watched, the death dews gathered on her brow, and 
 with parched lips she moa.ned, " How long, Lord, how 
 long?" Then it seemed to her as if a voice replied out of 
 the firmament, " UntU all who love, unite in the service of 
 all who suffer ! " 
 
 As these words sounded in her ears she was conscious of 
 a brightness more dazzling than the eye of man could look 
 upon and live, and in that light the figure of the foul 
 destroyer vanished as a dream, and she law it no more. 
 
 But when the attendant came to her couch, Ethel 
 Merribel W£ls dead. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE YELLOW MAN IN POSSESSION. 
 
 VJ^'HE outbreak of cholera effectively disposed of the 
 i®\ difiiculty which confronted Messrs. Glogoul and 
 ^^ Faulmann as to how to disperse the crowds which they 
 ^ had gathered together in Derbyshire. . In other direc- 
 tions everything went well for the firm. They had added 
 two famous north-coutitry castles to the list of tiieir desirable 
 residences to let or sell which they circulated every month 
 among the plutocracy of four continents. 
 
 They had also steadily and silently tightened their hold 
 upon the peers, until they were in a position to foreclose on 
 half the estates in, England at three months' notice. In the 
 House of Commons Sir Peter had not done amiss. He had 
 introduced his " Six Hours a Day and Five Days a Week 
 Bill " for the textile industries. That Bill was now the 
 shibboleth of the Toilers' Industrial League. The campaign 
 against ground-rents was being pushed on with relentless 
 vigour, and Sir Peter had carried three-quarters of the Radi- 
 cal Party with him in a demand that a greatly increased pro- 
 portion of local taxation should be thrown upon the landlord^. 
 
 It wiis in vain that Mr. Hopton, now a member of 
 Parliament, John Burns and Mr. Burt, together with the 
 older Trade Unionists,' demonstrated that the Six Hours a 
 Day Bill was midsummer madness, when our one formidable 
 rival was working his men .sixteen hours a day for seven 
 days a week. . But a species of madness seemed to have 
 seized the working classes. They were still under the 
 influence, of watch woi:ds which might have had some meaning 
 twenty yfears before, but which it seemed as if they had only 
 b?gun to understand.. 
 
 Similar phenomena are frequently to be observed in poli- 
 tical history. It must have been from this that Baron 
 Munchausen conceived the happy idea of frozen eloquence, 
 which could be dissolved at a considerable period after the 
 words had fallen from the speaker's lips. There is always a 
 certain amount of frozen or latent suggestion in the public 
 mind, which is thawed out some ten or twenty years after date. 
 In the present instance, the latent suggestion of the wealth of 
 the landed aristocracy, which was accurate enough when land 
 represented the chief realised wealth of the community, 
 was thawed out and became part of the circulating medium 
 long after the circumstances had changed, and the landlords, 
 instead of being the millionaires of the community, were 
 little better than its paupers. In vain were facts and figures 
 rained down upon Sir Peter and his supporters. . The fixed 
 idea of the mob was that the landowner was a Croesus, and 
 that the shortest cut to prosperity was to tax him out of 
 existence by throwing upon his shoulders the whole of the 
 ejxpenses of administration and relief. 
 
 It is not surprising, therefore, under these circumstances, 
 that a panic began to rage among the doomed class. They 
 could see no way of relief; whichever way they turned 
 they were confronted with the menace of ever-increasing 
 burdens. Some of them sat still, as the mouse sits cowering 
 under the eye of the snake, waiting helplessly for the 
 moment when it will be engulfed down the scaly demon's 
 jaws ; others sold out for whatever they could get. Their 
 estates always fell into the hands of Messrs. Glogoul and 
 Faulmann. But a minority, headed by Sir Artegal and 
 Lady Muriel, Mr. Wilkes and Lady ^nid, the Jew financier 
 and a few of the more far-seeing of the clergy and Non- 
 conformist ministers, set to work to redress the broken 
 fortunes of the old order. The material basis upon which 
 they relied was the continually increasing output of the gold 
 which flowed from the Comford mill; their spiritual 
 reliance was upon the innate honesty and sober common- 
 sense of the English people, which would in time, they were 
 
The Yellow Man in Possession. 
 
 91 
 
 pertain, nd itself of the frenzy bred by the poison of those 
 who set class against class, and who persuaded the masses 
 that they should regard the c' asses, not as their natural 
 leaders, but as their hereditary foes. . , ,. . 
 
 This minority of the elect found a powerful re-enforce- 
 ment m Mr. Euctions. He harnot been two months away 
 fromthe country before he found that it would be impossible 
 for him to direct the course of the paper in accordance with 
 his own convictions and at the same time comma^d the 
 support of the proprietor. He had no idea, nor had any one 
 in the office the slightest- notion, that the paper had been 
 sold to Ping Yang Yaloo's agents. Mr. Piper, who edited it, 
 was in blissful unconsciousness that he was doing their 
 bidding when he was advocating the Six Hours' Bill. As 
 little did he dream that he was the conscious instrument of 
 the Chinese conspiracy when he insisted upon increasing the 
 burdens on land and taxing the ground landlords to the 
 bone. . Mr. Piper was an impressionable young man, and 
 Mr. Kealey was genial and plausible. In a short time Mr. 
 Euctions saw that the paper which he had conducted for so 
 many years with such sweat of soul had passed beyond his 
 control. Eegretfully, but without hesitation, he resigned his 
 post. Mr. Keeley wrote to him expressing extreme regret, 
 and enclosing a cheque for £1,000, assuring him that his 
 services on the Tribune would never be forgotten. 
 ' The Tribune, thanks to the prestige which it owed to its 
 first editor, and to the great services which it had rendered 
 to the pause of freedom, proved to be the most useful 
 weapon in the hands of the conspirators. Euctions groaned 
 in spirit ap he saw the men, concealed behind his mask, 
 stealthily striking at the very heart of English freedom. 
 But for the moment he was helpless. It was not for long, 
 however. Eeturning to London, he sought an interview 
 with Sir Artegal, and after long consultation it was decided 
 to start a London daily with localised weeklies in connec- 
 tion with it in all the large centres of population in the 
 land. " England for the English " was the motto of this 
 new organ, and Messrs. Grlogoul and Faulmann saw with 
 dismay the entry upon the field of an adversary so indomit- 
 able, wielding a pen so trenchant. By way of a counter- 
 stroke they bought up a series of evening papers in the 
 country, doing it, not as Mr. Carnegie did a few years 
 before, with a frankness which was quite foolishly above- 
 board, but secretly, so that no one knew that the" hand 
 which controlled the editor was changed. Neither did the 
 journals appear to be in communication with each other, but 
 none the less every paper danced to the piping of Ludy 
 Dorothy, to whom Messrs. Grlogoul and Fauhnann had 
 handed over the task of manipulating the press. She 
 employed wherever possible, as editors, the impecunious 
 scions of noble houses who had titles and brains, but neither 
 principle nor cash. 
 
 So time wore on imtil autumn, when the great 
 Mandarin was to take up his abode at Chatsworth. Every- 
 thing for some time had been ready for his coming. 
 Chatsworth had been refurnished throughout in Chinese 
 fashion. Most of the pictures had been sold at Christie's, 
 and such of the curios as it was possible to dispose of had 
 been scattered to the four winds. The rest were done up in 
 packing cases and stowed away in the cellars. The great 
 conservatory on which the Duke some years before had 
 spent £5,000 for repairs, merely for the amusement of the 
 people who came from far and near to see the greatest 
 greenhouse in the world, had been converted into a stable 
 for his ExceUency's elephants. One whole wing of the 
 palace at Chatsworth was set apart for his harem, a con- 
 venient term which covered not merely Tiis array of 
 concubines, but many of those ministers to Oriental vice 
 whose presence scandalised ancient Eome in the days of 
 
 Heliogabalus. The village of Edensor had been laid out as 
 a barracks for the Chinese bodyguard who were to arrive- 
 under the disguise of the livery of the Mandarin. In each 
 of the three great parks into which his estate had been 
 divided there were lairs for tigers, carefully warmed and pro- 
 vided with every convenience. Wild animals of aU descrip- 
 tions were allowed to roam over the desolation which haid been 
 estabhshed in the heart of Derbyshire. .' Deer of all kinds, 
 abounded, while here and there wallowing places were pro- 
 vided for the wild buffalo which had been brought from Africa. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that changes so extensive as these 
 could have been carried out without exciting the bitter 
 resentment of the multitude of the dispossessed. They were, 
 however, silenced for the most part by the intiraidation of 
 the spokesmen of the Toilers' Industrial League, all of whom 
 were unconsciously in the pay of the conspiracy. The 
 Tribune and its weekly satellites demonstrated conclu- 
 sively that whatever the hardship might be to individuals, 
 Derbyshire had profited immensely by the building of this 
 tiger preserve in the Midlands. No doubt there were fewer 
 people on the soil, but those who were allowed to live within 
 the Little Wall of China were better off than the miserable 
 toilers whom they had superseded. The expenditure of capital 
 also, it was proved, was much greater in keeping'one tiger than 
 in rearing a thousand sheep, to say nothing of the import- 
 ance of varying the monotonous round of .sport by the intro- 
 duction of the manly and exciting pursuit of tiger-hunting. 
 
 But these sophistries no more sufficed to silence the 
 murmur of discontent than similar argunaents in our- time 
 help to reconcile the Scottish crofter to thfeir supercession by 
 the red deer. The spectacle of a great country laid desolate 
 in order to provide sport for the alien from farther Asia, the 
 dismantled homes, the ruined farmsteads, the fields once 
 bright with com now overgrown with aU manner of 
 noisome weeds, acted as a perpetual irritant to the 
 smouldering discontent of the people. 
 
 The Eev. Ebenezer Brown, who had been Mr. Wilkes* 
 right hand man at Eigby when he stood for Blankshire, 
 had accepted a call to Chesterfield three years agOj and wa& 
 a -witness of the desolation which Grlogoul and Faulmann 
 had worked in the land. It got upon his nerves, and he 
 preached sermons which read like latter day irariants upon 
 the invectives of the Hebrew seers. The scenes' of horror 
 which had followed the dispersion of the labour camps by 
 cholera almost drove him mad. He would wander at night 
 along the hilltops past the ruins of Six Elms, -where the 
 workmen in the daytime were busy re-building the seven- 
 teenth century palace, and pour out his soul in .passionate 
 entreaties to the Lord to smite with a fierce destruction the 
 enemies of the people. 
 
 Some time before the day on which Ping Yang Yaloo was- 
 expected to arrive at Manchester in his steam yacht, an 
 immense multitude gathered at the station of Eowsley to. 
 watch for the arrival of the mysterious millionaire. For 
 several weeks previous to this his retinue had been arriving 
 in driblets. A whole flotilla of steamers had been required 
 to transport the belongings of the millionaire. The 
 peculiarity of the costumes, the curious weapons, and the 
 extraordinary nature of the merchandise offered unceasing 
 topics for the conversation of the multitude. The first 
 instalment of the harem had arrived some days before in 
 closely curtained carriages. So great was the press of 
 people to see the Chinese ladies that it was necessary to 
 bring down a regiment of cavalry from Sheffield. Under the 
 protection of their sabres the disembarkation of the Chinese, 
 menagerie continued. No such menagerie had ever before 
 amazed the rustics of Derbyshire. The huge elephants, which 
 made their way with ponderous tread to their appointed 
 place, excited eager curiosity ; but the in-jgreBt was centred 
 
92 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 upon the great iron cages in whichi tigers and tigresses were 
 conveyed to their quarters in the various preserves. From 
 time to time there was a shout of anger or of fierce discon- 
 content from, the crowd, but it was only momentary, and 
 served but to punctuate the long roUing cheers which 
 -greeted each fresh 
 arrival. 
 
 On the day on 
 which Ping Yang 
 was expected to 
 arrive, Glogoul and 
 Faulmann went 
 down to Man- 
 chester to receive 
 iiim. On their 
 way thither Faul- 
 mann seemed to be 
 smitten with an 
 unaccustomed fit 
 of remorse. Glo- 
 .•goul endeavoured 
 ■in vain to cheer 
 him. 
 
 . "Don't be a 
 -fool, Faulmaun," 
 •said he. " "What 
 is the matter with 
 you ? " 
 
 "I had a horrid 
 dream, last night," 
 he replied. " It 
 seemed to me that 
 those wretches 
 whose homes we 
 have demolished, 
 and whom we have 
 destroyed with 
 that accursed 
 cholera of yours, 
 stood around me. 
 I . felt as if I 
 deserved to be 
 damned." 
 
 " And so you 
 do," said Glogoul 
 heartily, ",if you 
 give way to feel- 
 ings like these. 
 We have only 
 done what others 
 have done before 
 us who have died 
 in the odour of 
 saDct.ity, and 
 whose praises are 
 -sung in . all the 
 churches." 
 
 Faulmann went 
 ©n without heeding 
 him. " The dyna- 
 mite was bad, the. cholera was worse, but, after all the 
 miseries which that accursed jimjams has wrought, the rest 
 of our crimes dwindle into insignificance." 
 
 " Well," said Glogoul, " let it be ' crimes,' if you will 
 have it so. It is not our country, is it? And as for 
 jimjams, what have we done more than the English 
 have done to the Chinese ? Jimjams is. no worse than . 
 opium, any way ; and . after giving opium the free run 
 of China for fifty years, you cannot possibly say that we 
 
 LADY DOEOTHT DEOPPED A CUETSEY AND OFFERED HER BOUQUET, 
 
 have balanced the account by giving jimjams a year's run 
 in England." 
 
 " But," said Faulmann, " it has only begun." 
 " No doubt," said Glogoul, " but the opium habit is just 
 as inveterate as that of jimjams. It has had a start of half a 
 
 century, and jim- 
 jams is not going 
 to make that up 
 in a hurry. You 
 should," " said Glo- 
 goul, with a sinis- 
 ter smile, " regard 
 yourself, like Lady 
 Dorothy, as the 
 Avenging Angel of 
 Ketributive Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 Faulmann did 
 not reply, but 
 looked out from 
 the carriage 
 window over the 
 broad landscape 
 through which the 
 train was passing. 
 It was only here 
 and there, how- 
 ever, that he got a 
 glimpse of the 
 scenery, for the 
 line was bordered 
 on either side by 
 the high wall 
 which had been 
 built to prevent 
 the escape of the 
 tigers. 
 
 " You may talk 
 as you like, Glo- 
 goul," he said, 
 " but when I look 
 over the country- 
 side and see for 
 miles and miles 
 not a chimney 
 smoking or the 
 glimmer of a single 
 light from a pea- 
 sant's cottage at 
 night, I confess I 
 feel bad." 
 
 "The more fool 
 you," said Glogoul ; 
 " now, if you were 
 a true humani- 
 tarian " 
 
 " Like you, I 
 suppose," said 
 Faulmann 
 savagely. 
 "Yes, like me," said Glogoul calmly. "lam the only 
 true humanitarian, for my humanitarianism is based on 
 science and intelligently directed to its logical end. The 
 only service which you can render to this humanity of which 
 you talk so much is to put an end to it. After all these 
 whom we have put out of pain in the last twelve months, 
 my conscience, if you like to call it such, only reproves me 
 of one thing, and that is we have killed too few. How can 
 you look out upon this pesthole of a world and not feel that 
 
The Yellow Man in Possession. 
 
 93 
 
 the man who could dsvise a sleeping draught which the 
 whole human race could take and never rise again, would be 
 the supreme banefactor of the universe ? We cannot attain 
 to that yet, but we are apprdximatlng." 
 
 Faulmann did not reply ; and the two were silent until 
 they had reached their destHation. Conspicuous on the 
 gangway they saw Lady Dorothy Patterson, arrayed in a 
 white satin costume more suitable to a girl of fifteen than to 
 a matron of fifty. She stood holding a bouquet of hothouse 
 flowers which she had herself selected — for she prided herself 
 upon her tiiste — ^in order to present to His Excellency the 
 moment his feet tonoJaed British soil. There was also the 
 Mayor of Manches* r with a special address of welcome, 
 and Mr.' Algem a Bradfo-d 
 dancing attendanc i on Lady 
 Dorothy, 
 
 Within half an h )ur after their 
 arrival the Mandarin's yacht drew 
 up at the wharf, which was gaily 
 decorated to receive him. Cannons 
 fired salvoes of welcome, and 
 immense crowds on either side of 
 the. canal all the way from 
 Liverpool had almost deafened 
 Ping Yang Yaloo with one in- 
 cessant roar of cheering. His 
 impassive countenance, however, 
 showed no sign either of dehght 
 or of disgust or of weariness as 
 he stepped upon the soft velvety 
 carpet which was laid upon the 
 gangway. 
 
 He had no sooner planted both 
 his feet upon the wharf than 
 Lady Dorothy pressed up to liim 
 with a smile which was meant 
 to be irresistibly winning, dropped 
 a curtsey, and gracefully offered 
 him her bouquet. The milUon- 
 aire looked at her with an im- 
 perturbable, stony look in his 
 black eyes. He neither put out 
 his hand nor manifested the 
 slightest consciousness of her 
 existence. Lady Dorothy blushed, 
 and a horrible moment inter- 
 vened. Before she had regained 
 her self-possession. Ping Yang 
 Yaloo had passed her, disdaining 
 to take her flowers, and was 
 abreast of the Mayor of Man- 
 chester. That functionary, with 
 his gold chain and official air, 
 succeeded in attracting for a moment the attention of His 
 Excellency. No sooner, however, had Ping Yang Yaloo 
 heard the first words of the address than he motioned to 
 his secretary and moved on. No one attempted to detain 
 him until he reached the saloon carriage, which he entered, 
 leaving his secretary to wrestle with the intricacies of 
 municipal etiquette. Ping Yang Yaloo was followed by the 
 elite of his bodyguard, men armed to the teeth. These took 
 up their quarters in the carriages in front and behind the 
 car in which Ping Yang Yaloo was ensconced. The rest of 
 the party filed into the various carriages, and the train started 
 for Chatsworth. 
 
 It was a bright and beautiful day. The sun was shining 
 as if to belie the Mandarin's impressions of an English 
 climate. The excitement of the crowd was immense when 
 the signals announced the approach of the Mandarin's train. 
 
 "woe! woe!" 
 
 It required all the tact and resolution of the soldiers to keep 
 the crowd within bounds. Amid the entliusiastio cheering 
 of the people, the train steamed slowly up to the platform tf 
 Eowsley Station. At the station carriages were waiting tO' 
 convey the Mandarin, his guards, and his retinue to 
 Chatsworth. As soon as the rest of his party had started. 
 Ping Yang Yaloo took his seat on the luxurious crimson 
 cushions of his carriage. His bodyguard, fierce-looking 
 Tartars from the north of Chma, with pigtails, mounted and 
 dressed exactly alike, so that no man in the crowd could tell 
 one from another, formed an escort round tke Mandarin's- 
 car. 
 Lady -Dorothy, who had come up in the saine train as- 
 his Excellency, was still carrying, 
 the slighted bouquet. Catching 
 the eye of the Mandarin as s^ie. 
 thought, she threw the flowers, 
 into the carriage. 
 
 They fell on tlie seat opposite. 
 The great man stooped slowly, 
 took up the boiiqnet^holder be- 
 tween his finger and thumb, 
 gingerly, as if fearing it containeii 
 dynamite, atid dfOpped it into, 
 the road at the moment the 
 carriage drove off. 
 
 Mortified but undismayed. Lady 
 Dorothy determined to retrieve 
 her fortunes in the palace at 
 Chatsworth, but on inquiring for 
 a carriage, she was informed by 
 the master of ceremonies that 
 his ExceUency's orders were pre- 
 cise : no white woman was to be 
 allowed to enter Chatsworth gates. 
 Furious at this slight. Lady 
 Dorothy departed, consohng her- 
 self as best she could with the 
 devoted atteiitions of Algemoik 
 Bradford. 
 
 Just as the Mandarin's carriage 
 was about to enter the gates of 
 his park, a pale, slight figures 
 broke through the cordon that 
 kept the- way, and stood with an 
 outstretched hand in the centre 
 of the road, right in the way of 
 the approaching carriage. There 
 was a wild cry from the crowd, 
 but, above it, he was heard to. 
 shout in a voice which was 
 rather a shriek than an articulate 
 sound, " Woe ! woe I " 
 The cry was heard distinctly by Ping Yang Yaloo, 
 notwithstanding the jingling of the spurs and the clatter 
 of the sabres of his escort. The postillions, seeing the 
 minister standing in the middle of the road, slightly drew 
 rein. 
 
 It was noted by some in the crowd that at that moment 
 the eyes of all the escort were centred upon the impassive 
 features of his Excellency. He did not speak, but raised 
 his hand and made a slight signal, which, whatever it might 
 mean, seemed to be perfectly understood. 
 
 In an instant one of the twenty members of the body- 
 guard rode forward at a gallop with a drawn sabre in his 
 hand. 
 
 Every one present held his breath in amazement, not. 
 knowing what was about to happen. 
 
 In another moment the head of the Eev. Ebenezer BrowQ 
 
94 
 
 The Splendid Paupers. 
 
 rolled in the carriage-way, while his body, spouting blood, 
 staggered for one moment and then fell. 
 
 That was all that could be seen ; for the next moment the 
 postillions whipped up their horses, the escort put spurs to 
 their steeds, and the whole cavalcade, with the carriage in 
 the centre, swept over the prostrate body of the minister, and 
 on through the park gates. 
 
 Neither the policemen on duty nor any of the people 
 present were able to identify, then or afterwards, the 
 horseman whose razor-like sabre ' had given the " foreign 
 devils" a taste of Chinese skill in decapitation. From 
 that hour no English foot, save, that of the Mandarin's 
 secretary, was allowed to cross the threshold of Chatsworth 
 Park. 
 
 On galloped the horsemen, while the state carriage swung 
 and creaked on its springs, down by the riverside, where the 
 rabbits were playing merrily in the autumn sunshine, past 
 the artificial lake, and on until they clattered up to the great 
 entrance. 
 
 The horses' hoofs struck fire from the stones. The car- 
 riage was all streaked and splashed with human blood. 
 
 Ping Yang Yaloo did not deign a look or a word to his 
 obsequious retainers, who opened out to right and left, 
 bowing low, as he stepped from his carriage into the entrance 
 hall of his future home. 
 
 The great folding-doors were flung wide open, and a wild, 
 barbaric tumult of horns was heard from within. 
 
 Slowly, with impassive features. His Excellency mounted 
 the steps leading to the hall. The great folding-doors closed 
 
 after him ; Ping Yang Yaloo was established in the palace of 
 Chatsworth. 
 
 Thus the old order changes, giving place to the new ; and 
 on the ruins of our old aristocracy, ruined by the fall in 
 prices and the competition of Asia, there was reared the 
 corner-stone of a new plutocracy, with all the vices of the 
 old reyiine, and none of its virtues. 
 
 jf. i^ ^ * * 
 
 It is the custom in Christmas stories to wind up the 
 affairs of the dramatis peisunce as if the end of the story 
 were the judgment day of the world. 'Jhings do ret happeii 
 so in real life, and those who wish to know the i es It of the 
 contest which was waged between His Bxcelle; cy Ping 
 Yang Yaloo on the one side, supported by the Toileis' 
 Industrial League and Sir Peter and Lady Dorothy Patter- 
 son; and on the other by Sir Artegal and Lady Muriel, 
 supported by all that was best and noblest in the dwindliif 
 remnant of the aristocracy and among the masses of the 
 people, will have to wait until the destinies have spun a 
 little more of the web of human life. For the great battle 
 against the New Plutocracy, aided by a corrupt and self- 
 seeking Demagogy, is a fight which is , not yet finished, 
 nor, indeed, has it hardly as much as begun. The prophetic 
 vision fails us at present to carry further the story of thii 
 last rally of the Splendid Paupers. 
 
 tONDOX: PRINTED BV WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AKD CHARING CROSS. 
 

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