Which of you is Lord Stranleigh?" he asked.
"I am," answered the bearer of that title.
The name passed from man to man, running over the menacing mob like a zig-zag flash of electricity.
"The right honourable gentleman refuses to see you, and personally I advise you to get away from here as speedily as you can. In the first place, you have no right to meddle with a political meeting, and in the second place, our people here are less patient, gentle, and lamb-like than was your audience in London."
"Thank you for the warning," said Stranleigh. "I'll go away at once if you will take this bag to the Minister, ask him to open it in the privacy of his own room, examine the documents it contains, and if he thinks they are of any use to him in this contest, to deal with them as he sees fit."
"What you suggest is impossible, my lord. The Minister declined to have any dealings whatever with you."
"Bash him!" roared the crowd, as the official disappeared, and bash him they did. The police were unable to save him on this occasion, but two of them dragged his senseless body into the motorcar, while others of the force kept back the throng as best they could. All the time Stranleigh's right
