The Home Secretary-elect found his chief supporters heavily cast down.
"They've got a long start of us, already, Mr. Endor, and let me tell you, sir, they are out for blood." Such was the greeting of Mr. Ambrose Furley, a tall, thin gentleman, not by nature an optimist, who wore, as became the fine flower of Blackhampton's intelligentsia the black cord of his gold-rimmed eyeglasses round a red left ear. "And if I may be so bold as to offer an opinion, there's only one thing can save us from getting it fairly in the neck."
The member for East Blackhampton was not unused to the somber half-tones of his agent's mind, but he did not look for such out-and-out pessimism, even in Mr. Ambrose Furley.
"You see, sir," continued Mr. Furley, "from what I hear, the U. P. has made up its mind to do you in, no matter what it costs them."
John Endor, unshaken, smiled the smile of the happy warrior.
