"How far away did you say your place was, Paul?" Mr. Bundercombe asked. "Right in the country," I told him--"takes you about an hour and a half to get there." "I think we'll come," Mr. Bundercombe decided, looking absently out the window and watching his wife eloquently admonish a taxicab driver, who had driven up with a cigarette in his mouth. "Yes, I'm all for it!" My little party at Walmsley Hall was in most respects a complete success. My sister was able to come and play hostess, and Eve was charmed with my house and its surroundings. Mr. Bundercombe, however, was a source of some little anxiety. On the first morning, when we were all preparing to go out, he drew me on one side. "Paul," he said--he had, with some difficulty, got into the way of calling me by my Christian name occasionally --"I want to get wise to this thing. Where does your political boss hang out?" "We haven't such a person," I told him. He seemed troubled. The more he inquired into our electioneering habits, the less he seemed to understand them. "What's your platform, anyway?" he asked. I handed him a copy of my election address, which he read carefully through, with a large cigar in the corner of his mouth. He handed it back to me with a somewhat depressed air. "Seems to kind of lack grit," he remarked, a little doubtfully. "Why don't you go for the other side a bit more?" "Look here!" I suggested, mindful that Eve was waiting for me. "You run down and have a chat with my agent. You'll find him just opposite the town hall in Bildborough. There's a car going down now." "I'm on!" he agreed. "Anyway I must get to understand this business." He departed presently and returned to luncheon with a distinctly crestfallen air. He beckoned me mysteriously into the library and laid his hand upon my shoulder in friendly fashion. "Look here, Paul," he said, "is it too late to change your ticket?" "Change my what?" I asked him. "Change your platform--or whatever you call it! You're on the wrong horse, Paul, my boy. Even your own agent admits it--though I never mentioned your name at first or told him who I was. All the people round here with votes are farmers, agricultural laborers and small shopkeepers. Your platform's of no use to them." "Well, that's what we've got to find out!" I protested. "Personally, I am convinced that it is."