“But I know nothing of the matter, Mr. Vaughan.” But Vaughan was in no mood to put up with subterfuges. If the other did not know, he should know. He had been all-powerful, it seemed, to bring him in: was he powerless to keep him in? “There is a compact, I am told,” he said, “under which the seat is to be surrendered—for this turn, at any rate—to my cousin’s nominee.” Brougham shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Mr. Cornelius. “Dear me, dear me,” he said. “That’s not a thing of which I can approve. Far from it! Far from it! But you must see, Mr. Vaughan, that I cannot meddle in my position with arrangements of that kind. Impossible, my dear sir, it is clearly impossible!” Vaughan stared; and with some spirit and more temper, “But the spark, my lord! I’m sure you won’t forget the spark?” he said. For an instant a gleam of fun shone in the other’s eyes. Then he was funereal again. “Before the Bill, and after the Bill, are two things,” he said drily. “Before the Bill all is, all was impure. And in an impure medium—you understand me, I am sure? You are scientific, I remember. But after the Bill—to ask me, who in my humble measure, Mr. Vaughan, may call myself its prime cause—to ask me to infringe its first principles by interposing between the Electors and their rights, to ask me to use an influence which cannot be held legitimate—no, Mr. Vaughan, no!” He shook his head solemnly and finally. And then to Mr. Cornelius, “Yes, I am coming, Mr. Cornelius,” he said. “I know I am late.” “I can wait,” said Mr. Cornelius. “But I cannot. Good-day, Mr. Vaughan. Good-day,” he repeated, refusing to see the young man’s ill-humour. “I am sorry that I cannot help you. Or, stay!” he continued, halting in the act of turning away. “One minute. I gather that you are a friend of Sir Charles Wetherell’s?” “He has been a friend to me,” Vaughan answered sullenly. “Ah, well, he is going to Bristol to hold his sessions—on the 29th, I think. Go with him. Our fat friend hates me like poison, but I would not have a hair of his head injured. We have been warned that there will be trouble, and we are taking steps to protect him. But an able-bodied young soldier by his side will be no bad thing. And upon my honour,” he continued, eyeing Vaughan with impudent frankness—impudent in view of all that had gone before—“upon my honour, I am beginning to think that we spoiled a good soldier when we—eh!” “The spark!” Mr. Cornelius muttered grimly. “Good-day, my lord,” said Vaughan with scant ceremony; his blood was boiling. And he turned and strode away, scarcely smothering an execration. The two, who did not appear to be in a hurry after all, remained looking after him. And presently Mr. Cornelius smiled.