"It's indifferent to me whether it comes out that I planned this stratagem, or not. Still, in the interests of my party, I admit that I had rather it were kept quiet. So I'll tell you what. If, in a month's time, I find that you have kept the secret, you shall receive at any address you like a second five-pound note. It's just as you please. Of course, if you think you can get more by bargaining with the Liberals--but I doubt whether the secret will be worth anything after the explosion." "All right. I'll give you an address, so that if you keep in the same mind"---- He mentioned it. And Glazzard made a note. "Then we strike a bargain, Mr. Northway?" "Yes, I'll go through with it," was the deliberate reply. "Very well. Then you shall have the particulars." Thereupon Glazzard made known the names he had kept in reserve. Northway jotted them down on the back of an envelope, his hand rather unsteady. "There's a train to Polterham," said Glazzard, "at nine o'clock in the morning. You'll be there by ten--see Ridge the bookseller, and be at the Court-house in convenient time. I know there's a sitting to-morrow; and on the second day after comes out the Polterham Tory paper. You will prepare them such an item of news in their police reports as they little look for. By that time the whole truth will be known, of course, and Mr. Quarrier's candidature will be impossible." "What will the Liberals do?" "I can't imagine. We shall look on and enjoy the situation--unprecedented, I should think." Northway again smiled; he seemed to enter into the jest. "You sleep here," said Glazzard. "Your expenses are paid. I'll take leave of you now, and I sha'n't see you again, as I have to leave by the 3.40 up-train." The money he had promised was transferred to Northway's pocket, and they shook hands with much friendliness. Glazzard quitted the hotel. His train back to Polterham left at 1.14, and it was past midnight. He went into the station, now quiet and deserted. A footstep occasionally echoed under the vault, or a voice sounded from a distance. The gas was lowered; out at either end gleamed the coloured signal-lights, and above them a few faint stars. It was bitterly cold. Glazzard began to walk up and down, his eyes straying vaguely. He felt a miserable sinking of the heart, a weariness as if after great exertion. An engine came rolling slowly along one of the lines; it stopped just beyond the station, and then backed into a siding. There followed the thud of carriage against carriage: a train was being made up, he went to watch the operation. The clang of metal, the hiss of steam, the moving about of men with lanterns held his attention for some time, and so completely that he forgot all else.