The Fad of the Fisherman
there is grass growing and water moving; and something impossible has happened."
Even as he spoke the dark figure with a stoop like a vulture appeared in the gap of the hedge just above him.
"You have won your bet," said Harker, in a harsh and almost croaking voice. "The old fool cares for nothing but fishing. He cursed me and told me he would talk no politics."
"I thought it might be so," said Fisher, modestly. "What are you going to do next?"
"I shall use the old idiot's telephone, anyhow," replied the lawyer. "I must find out exactly what has happened. I’ve got to speak for the Government myself to-morrow." And he hurried away toward the house.
In the silence that followed, a very bewildering silence so far as March was concerned, they saw the quaint figure of the Duke of Westmoreland, with his white hat and whiskers, approaching them across the garden. Fisher instantly stepped toward him with the pink paper in his hand, and, with a few words, pointed out the apocalyptic paragraph. The duke, who had been walking slowly, stood quite still, and for some seconds he looked like a tailor's dummy standing and staring outside some antiquated shop. Then March heard his voice, and it was high and almost hysterical:
"But he must see it; he must be made to under-
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