“No,” said the Prime Minister, smiling very much more easily, “nor Manager of the King’s Thoroughbred Stud, either. But I know that Abenford is mortally tired of the Household; though what there is to be tired of,” he added.... To the Prime Minister’s very great surprise, Charles Repton simply replied: “If I went to the Lords, I should go without office.” At this unexpected solution the Prime Minister was in duty bound to propose a hundred reasons against it. He implored Repton to remember his great position and the peculiar value that he had for him, the Prime Minister. “It’s never more than three men that do the work, Repton, whether you’re dealing with ten in committee or half a thousand. You know that.” But Charles Repton was firm. These solid masters of finance are glad to think out their world; in a sense nothing comes to them that is unexpected when it comes. Their brains may be compared to the great new War Office in Whitehall, where a hundred minutely detailed plans for the invasion of Germany, France, Russia, Spain, Italy and the Baltic States, lie pigeonholed, in perfect order, ready to be put into immediate execution at the pronouncement of the stern words _Krieg-mobil_. Long before the simple intrigues of the drawing-rooms had taken shape, Charles Repton had swept the whole landscape with his inward eye. He knew every fold of the terrain, he had measured every range. He had determined that, upon the whole, a peerage was worth his while: now; at the very height of his fortune. To have a permanent place, free from office, with the prestige of title, with committees open to him and every official source permanently to his hand, was worth his while. It was worth his while to go to the House of Lords had it been a matter for his free choice; and if he went to the House of Lords he must go a free man. It would do more to save Van Diemens than any other step, and that great Company was worth twenty places in the Cabinet. Van Diemens was the master of this Cabinet and the last. He had made up his mind then that a peerage was worth his while even if it depended entirely on his choice. Now that he could make it a favour, it was doubly worth his while. The alternative meant useless friction.... Yes, he would take that peerage: but there was one thing that he must have quite clear:---- The two men walked together in silence past the Palace; they went through the superb new entrance to St. James’s Park, crossed the bridge, and turned towards Westminster. It had been a shock. The relief for the Prime Minister was somewhat too great, and the last thing that Repton had to say was awkward; but he was accustomed to leap such hedges. He began boldly: “Do you happen to know what I have set aside for the regular purposes of the Party?” he asked. The Prime Minister shook his head. If there was one thing he detested, it was the kitchen side of politics.