We only wanted you to split
the Reform vote because accidents might happen after Hughes had made
a score at Barkington."
"I see," said Fisher, "and you, I think, are a pillar and ornament
of the Reform party. As you say, I am not clever."
The appeal to party loyalty fell on deaf ears; for the pillar of
Reform was brooding on other things. At last he said, in a more
troubled voice:
"I didn't want you to catch me; I knew it would be a shock. But I
tell you what, you never would have caught me if I hadn't come here
myself, to see they didn't ill treat you and to make sure everything
was as comfortable as it could be." There was even a sort of break
in his voice as he added, "I got those cigars because I knew you
liked them."
Emotions are queer things, and the idiocy of this concession
suddenly softened Horne Fisher like an unfathomable pathos.
"Never mind, old chap," he said; "we'll say no more about it. I'll
admit that you're really as kind-hearted and affectionate a
scoundrel and hypocrite as ever sold himself to ruin his country.
There, I can't say handsomer than that. Thank you for the cigars,
old man. I'll have one if you don't mind."
By the time that Horne Fisher had ended his telling of this story to
Harold March they had come out into one of the public parks and
taken a seat on a rise of ground overlooking wide green spaces under
a blue and empty sky; and there was something incongruous in the
words with which the narration ended.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226