“Come in, come in,” said Osprey Hawke, rather hastily, drawing his friend into the room and closing the door, which he locked.
“What’s wrong?” said Halgover, startled.
“All’s wrong,” said Hawke. “I have seen some of the leading people here—your men-and I’ve got a telegraph from Lasher.”
“Why,” said Halgover, in trepidation, “he assured me it was all right. I paid”
“Hush! confound you!—and perhaps a Yellow ear at the keyhole. You’ll lose the election.”
“I’d sooner pay”
“Will you be quiet. Listen. There’s only one thing to do to save it, and that of course you won’t do.”
“Go in for the ballot and universal suffrage? Well, you know, I don’t like it; I don’t think it right; but I shouldn’t like to lose, and Arabella would be”
“That’s it, of course. It would break Mrs. Halgover’s heart to see you return crestfallen and humiliated before the world. But then I tell you fairly, the sacrifice is something.”
“Tell me at once.”
“Well, I have this from all your chief friends. The man who stood here last time bilked the electors; did ’em out of their dues, as they think them. His name is poison.”
“But mine’s Halgover.”
“Unfortunately, you are very like him in appearance—luxurious hair, splendid beard and moustache. A rumour has got about that you are the same man, but have come into money and changed your name. The Yellows have some photographs of him, with Halgover alias Swindleton printed under them. If you are seen you are lost. A deputation is coming to urge upon you— and Lasher telegraphs that you are to do it at any price—but you won’t.”
“Won’t—won’t—”
“Shave. Get a bald head, take away beard and moustaches, and suddenly appear in the town, defying Yellow malice. A pair of high shirt collars, instead of the all-rounder, for they are men of business here, and high collars are somehow connected with respectability, and it’s done. If not, you are lost, the impression once made.”
“But I shall be such a Guy,” stammered the wretched Halgover.
“But you will be member for Stackleborough,” returned the artful Hawke.
Imagine the mental conflict: imagine the yielding: imagine the Blue Barber, and his fatal work.
Mr. Halgover was triumphantly returned. Mr. Lasher had minded his business, and taken care that other people minded theirs. Halgover telegraphed himself to Arabella as at the top of the poll of Stackleborough, but said nothing about the top of his own poll.
“Go in and break it to her,” he said to Osprey Hawke, as they reached Mandeville Crescent, North.
