“Even if they did buy,” Repton went on seriously and argumentatively, “they could hardly buy at more than par. I’m the last man,” he continued rapidly “to jaw about public opinion or things of that sort. The real reason why they won’t buy is the Irish. But even if they did buy they could hardly give more than par. And what’s par?” he said with great disdain. “No, that cock won’t fight!... Mind you, I’m not saying you couldn’t have got the Government to buy a little time ago. I think you could. But you can’t now.” “I don’t think there’s a single man on either front bench--” this was said meditatively and tapping off the fingers of one hand with the forefinger of the other--“who’s personally interested, and I don’t _think_ there’s any direct connection since Cooke died between the Cabinet and any one who is--except me. No, that’s not the way out. What you’ve got to do, ladies and gentlemen, is to throw a sprat to catch a whale.” “A sprat,” he meditatively repeated, “to catch a whale: a great Whale full o’ blubber! ... an’ how are you going to do that?” “Now listen”--his tone had become very earnest and he was leaning forward, bent and fixed and holding them with his fine strong eyes, “listen, there are three steps. You’ve got first of all to show the public that you _believe_ in the future of the Company; next you’ve got to decide upon a dodge to show that: something that’ll make every one think that you the shareholders do really believe in that future. What’s the third step? Why up goes the price--real price--money offered--_then you can sell_. That’s my opinion,” he concluded, clapping his hands together and laying them upon the table before him: and he let it sink in. “Now you’ll notice,” he went on, “in the prospectus you have received, some talk of a railway. We’re asking money from you to build a railway. Now why are we doing that? Please follow me carefully.” The hundreds of heads bent forward and the intelligences they contained were prepared to follow him carefully. He was a great man. “We have asked you to build a railway,” he pronounced, leaving a little space of time between each word, “because a railway still catches on. I don’t know why, but it _does_. Mines don’t. You might discover ore all over the place and they wouldn’t go: I’ve got two men of my own, engineers, _experts_, who’ll discover ore anywhere; they’d discover tons before three o’clock this afternoon and you might swear your dying oath to them, but the public wouldn’t believe you. As for agriculture,--Piff! And as for climate, Boo! But _railways_ still work.”