The Duke, like the business man he was, was very brief and to the point. He congratulated Charles Repton not (thank heaven!) on having got rid of the slight headache which seemed to have filled the thoughts of too many people, but upon the great accession the Upper House was to receive, and then the Duke having said so much went on to what he really had to say, his pronunciation marred only by that slight lisp which ill-natured reports so constantly exaggerated. Sir Charles Repton (he said) would remember the very disgraceful case of the editor of the _Islington Hebdomadal Review_? Charles Repton tried to remember, but could not. Well, it wath the cathe of the man who had very properly got twenty yearth of the betht for thaying that he could reveal how old Ballymulrock had got his peerage ... a dithgratheful cathe! There wath blackmail behind it! Yes, Charles Repton could remember now, and he smiled a grim smile as he considered the peculiar ineptitude of that particular convict. Why old Ballymulrock was the seventh in the title, he had nothing a year, he was a doddering old bachelor of eighty-seven, he had got it by a fluke from a half-nephew, and it was only an Irish elective peerage at that! The convict had pleaded a misprint! What a fool! Yes, Sir Charles Repton could remember the case. What about it? “I’m not going to take any action to save him,” he said sharply, “if that’s what you want: he deserved all he got! If you want some one get Birdwhistlethorpe; Isaacs that was: he knows North London.” “Noh, noh, noh,” said the aged Duke of Battersea in alarm, “you mithunderthand me!” And he went on to tell the outgoing Warden that they were determined to bring this sort of thing before the House of Lords in a Resolution. Would he move? “I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it,” said Repton shortly. The Duke smiled as he had smiled years ago, when he produced Lord Benthorpe’s paper and brought that now forgotten personage to heel. Had Sir Charles seen what the _Moon_ had been saying that very day? No, Sir Charles hadn’t. He supposed it was about the oil concessions. He paid no attention to the _Moon_. But Edward’s telephone to the _Moon_ and the _Capon_ had borne dreadful fruit. Each editor had thought to have regained his freedom. The Duke of Battersea’s smile grew more portentous; he discovered a cutting in the inner pocket of a coat which somehow or other always looked greasy upon him, and as Sir Charles read it, his face darkened. “It’s pretty scandalous,” he said as he laid it down. For the leader in the _Moon_ gave it to be understood in no very roundabout way that there had been a deal over Repton’s peerage. “The _Capon’th_ worth, _far_ worth!” insinuated the Duke of Battersea. “Is it?” said Sir Charles, “indeed!”