“An insult!” Vaughan repeated firmly. “As great an insult as I should inflict upon you, if I were unwise enough to do the errand I was asked to do a week ago—by a cabinet minister. And offered you, Sir Robert, here in your own house, a peerage conditional on your support of the Bill!” “A peerage?” Sir Robert’s eyes seemed to be starting from his head. “A peerage! Conditional on my——” “Yes, sir, conditional on your renunciation of those opinions which you honestly hold as I honestly hold mine!” Vaughan repeated coolly. “I will make the offer if you wish it.” Wetherell rose ponderously. “See here!” he said. “Listen to me, will you, you two! You, Vermuyden, as well as the young man. You will both be sorry for what you are saying now! Listen to me! Listen to me, man!” But the baronet was already tugging at the bell-rope. He was no longer red; he was white with anger. And not without reason. This whipper-snapper, this pettifogging lad, just out of his teens, to talk to him of peerages, to patronise him, to offer him—to—to—— For a moment he stammered and could not speak. At last, “Enough! Enough, sir; leave my house!” he cried, shaking from head to foot with passion, and losing for the first time in many years his self-control. “Leave my house,” he repeated furiously, “and never set foot in it again! Not a pound, and not a penny will you have of mine! Never! Never! Never!” Vaughan smiled, “Very good, sir,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Your fortune is your own. But——” “Begone, sir! Not another word, but go!” Vaughan raised his eyebrows, bowed in a ceremonious fashion to Wetherell, and nodded to White, who stood petrified and gaping. Then he walked slowly through that room and the next, and with one backward smile—vanished. And this time, as he passed through the hall, narrowly missing Flixton who was leaving the dining-room, there could be no doubt that the breach was complete, that the small cordiality which had existed between the two men was at an end. The Bill, which had played so many mischievous tricks, severed so many old friends, broken the ties of so many years, had dealt no one a more spiteful blow than it had dealt Arthur Vaughan. XVII THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION