"Do you mean it?" she murmured. "I just do!" answered Brent fervently. "Say the word!" "Yes, then!" whispered Queenie. She looked at him wonderingly when he had bent and kissed her. "You're an extraordinary man!" she said. "Whatever am I going to do--now? Homeless!" "Not much!" exclaimed Brent. "You come along with me, Queenie. I'm a good hand at thinking fast. I'll put you up, warm and comfortable, at Mother Appleyard's; and as quick as the thing can be done we'll be married. Got that into your little head? Come on, then!" That night Brent told Tansley of what had happened and what he was going to do. Tansley listened, laughed, and shook his head. "All right, my lad!" he said. "I've no doubt you and Queenie'll suit each other excellently. But you've settled your chances of winning that election, Brent! Simon Crood'll bring up every bit of his heavy artillery against you, now--and will smash you!" CHAPTER XVII IMPREGNABLE Brent received this plain-spoken declaration with a curious tightening of lips and setting of jaw which Tansley, during their brief acquaintance, had come to know well enough. They were accompanied by a fixed stare--the solicitor knew that too. These things meant that Brent's fighting spirit was roused and that his temper became ugly. Tansley laughed. "You're the sort of chap for a scrap, Brent," he continued, "and a go-ahead customer too! But--you don't know this lot, nor their resources. Whatever anybody may say, and whatever men like your late cousin, and Epplewhite, and any of the so-called Progressives--I'm not one, myself; it pays me to belong to neither party!--whatever these folks may think or say, Simon Crood and his lot are top-dogs in this little old town! Vested interests, my boy!--ancient tree, with roots firmly fixed in the piled-up soil, strata upon strata, of a thousand years! You're not going to pull up these roots, my lad!" "How'll Simon Crood smash me?" demanded Brent quietly. "As to the exact how," answered Tansley, "can't say! Mole work--but he'll set the majority of the electors in that Castle Ward against you." "I've enough promises of support now to give me a majority," retorted Brent. "That for promises!" exclaimed Tansley, snapping his fingers. "You don't know Hathelsborough people! They'll promise you their support to your face--just to get rid of your presence on their door-steps--and vote against you when they reach the ballot-box. I'll lay anything most of the folk you've been to see have promised their support to both candidates." "Why should these people support Crood and his crew?" demanded Brent.