make every concession to his peculiar talent were quite unable to read the riddle. If Endor was unseated, Mr. Williams would have to appeal to the country. And what would happen then?
No, the pundits declared themselves beaten. It was left, however, to the shrewdest and weightiest of them all to cast a ray of light upon the darkness. Sir Munt, armed with the new and rather amazing knowledge that had come to him less than an hour ago, proceeded to electrify the table at the head of which he sat.
"Comes to this, Murrell, my boy." Poising an oyster on an authoritative fork Sir Munt turned augustly to Alderman Murrell, the eminent Imperialist on his right. "Do we want another war or don't we? That's what it comes to."
A pause followed. And then, Sir Munt having enforced the appeal to Alderman Murrell's judgment by demonstratively swallowing the oyster, the eminent Imperialist gave a cock of the head and said: "Well, Sir Munt, since you ask me I say 'Yes' and I say 'No.'"
"You can't ride both horses, my boy." Sir Munt poised oyster the second. "You've got to make up your mind to one on 'em. If you want war you'll vote for this little Colonial Snot."—Sensation!—"If you don't want war you'll vote for John Endor."
A pin might have been heard to fall on the Club mahogany.
"The time has come, Murrell, when some on us in this City has got to do a bit o' clear thinkin'. But be-
