"My wife is sure she could win it for me," was the answer of Philip.
It was not, perhaps, the answer to be expected from a champion of the democracy; and the illustrious man looked rather quizzically across the table at his host. Were he and his party going to have their legs pulled in company with Van and the other side? Never trust an Irishman on principle, was one of Sir Joseph's axioms; and in this case he rather felt like living up to it.
All the same, the exigencies of the situation called for a man somewhat out of the ordinary for South-West Blackhampton. At present that large and important industrial constituency was represented by a man of independent mind who owed allegiance to none. The power of his personality had carried him to the top of the poll in a three-cornered contest, in spite of the fact that he had an official Rag and an official Wagger, able men both, against him.
Good, sound, conventional candidates had failed against this Rawhead and Bloodybones. It was just possible that the husband of a favorite actress, and a famous footballer to boot, might be successful where his betters might fail. That, at least, was the local opinion.
"I presume, Mr. Shelmerdine," said Sir Joseph Huffham, "in the event of your being adopted as a candi-
