“Really, Chertsey, I don’t understand what you want,” he observes impatiently. “A short while ago you were making fun of the detective force, and assuring us we had underrated Gloria de Lara’s power. Now that I propose to take decisive measures to arrest that power, you object to them. Will you propose a policy yourself?” “Well, I will, as you invite me to do so,” answers Lord Pandulph, with a smile, “but I do not suppose you will adopt it. However, here is my opinion. I am not in sympathy with Gloria de Lara’s desires, but I fully recognise that her doctrines are accepted by thousands. I am not likely to forget that it was she who raised the Hall of Liberty, who drilled into efficiency a large Woman Volunteer Force, and who has worked her way into the affections of vast numbers of the working classes. Having read the evidence at her trial, I am extremely dissatisfied with the verdict, while in regard to the death of the policeman in the prison-van, I do not look upon Lady Flora’s act as murder. We are assured by members of the police force, that she fired through the lock of the van, only after giving the policeman full warning of her intention to do so. She naturally supposed he had lain down as she bade him; and though his death is most grievous, really she cannot be accused of murder. Looking at matters in this light, I think the wisest thing the present Government can do is to appeal to the country to decide the question, revoke the warrant against Lady Flora, and offer Gloria de Lara a fresh trial. Such a policy may be out of the way, but we must not forget that we are now facing a state of affairs unparalleled in the world’s history. For my part, I cannot take the responsibility of deciding for the country. It is the country which should be appealed to, and allowed to decide for itself.” He has spoken as befits a statesman, who is able and willing to look upon the people as the proper tribunal to decide the policy to be pursued. But the Duke of Devonsmere, unlike Lord Pandulph, has never and will never be able to quit his aristocratic perch in order to descend to the people’s level. He is willing to give them a policy and ask them to accept it, but he cannot realise that the masses are able to produce one for themselves. It is not wonderful that he thinks as he does, for he is not, and never has been, in touch with the people. Like Mr. Mayhew, he shakes his head. “Your proposal is simple madness, Chertsey. I, for one, cannot fall in with it.” He looks sternly at the eleven satellites who are regarding him. They thoroughly understand that look. “Nor we,” they murmur deferentially, apeing the abject acquiescence of poor old Lord Muddlehead. Again Lord Pandulph laughs. Words would not measure the contemptuous ring that there is in that laugh. “And you will pardon me if I say that I think your proposal madness also. I cannot agree to it, and it is best I should resign,” he says quietly.