He smoked his cigar in solitude, a thoughtful expression on his face. The presence of Lady Patricia Montella in that household had caused him a deep sensation of astonishment, for he had not been aware of her arrival in England. He knew, of course, that Lady Chesterwood was a connection of hers by marriage; but even so, he was surprised that she should be friendly with Moore. Thirsting for information, he threw down his cigar half smoked, and rejoined her without delay. Without appearing unduly curious, he elicited the whole story of her pathetic separation. Then he inquired after his old friend, Montella, in almost affectionate terms, and expressed his regret that Parliament should have lost such a gifted and true young statesman. “I always liked Montella,” he said, when he had related more than one reminiscence of past years; “but he had one weakness: he allowed himself to be ruled by his mother. Now, I have the greatest respect for Lady Montella, but I do not believe in petticoat interference. Montella was quite capable of riding his political horse without the aid of feminine spurs.” “You are quite right, Mr. Holmes,” assented the girl, almost surprised at his perception; “but Lady Montella is a strange woman; she has the spirit of a Joan of Arc, and the self-discipline of a nun. I have often wished myself that Lionel were left more to act on his own initiative. His ideas are on a broader plane than his mother’s, although he may be less of a Jew.” “Quite so. Dear me, but how the poor fellow did scold me for introducing the Assimilation Bill! And, by Jove! I think he was right. We’ve made a ghastly mistake over the whole business, Lady Patricia. You can tell him so if you like.” Patricia was all attention. “You mean that the result of the Expulsion is unsatisfactory,” she interrupted eagerly. “I thought so, judging by all the reports I had heard.” The Cabinet Minister bent forward confidentially. “Shall I tell you something?” he answered impressively. “England can _not_ get along without Jewish money and Jewish brains; and she’s shipped all the best of it away—sent it to Palestine to enrich the Holy Land. That’s the plain truth—and a truth which is going to be expressed pretty forcibly by the people in Hyde Park next Saturday. Of course, Moore pooh-poohs it, and means to hold out to the end; but it strikes me that there will be a fairly sharp ministerial struggle before long.” “And the result?” “Ah, who can tell? I don’t think we have ever had such a feeble Government as there is now. There’s scarcely a man among them worth his salt. Moore still wields that sort of one-man power which is occasionally beneficial, and at times so dangerous; and I believe Moore’s mind on the Jewish question is warped. We’ve got to try and drag that rabid anti-Semitic feeling out of him: it’s no easy task.” Patricia remembered what Mamie had told her concerning the Premier’s inmost feelings, and grew thoughtful.