The Home Secretary privately sympathized with this demand, but he foresaw that such a departure would be the signal for a storm of protest in the workmen’s papers and in the House of Commons. The particular quarter of London where the latest outrage had occurred was represented in the House by a sturdy demagogue who was not likely to sit with his mouth closed while his constituents were threatened with what he had already described in advance as martial law. The very gangs which were now defying the police were believed to have done effective work during the last election, and on one memorable occasion their popular representative had led them to an armed encounter with the forces of law and order in the heart of the capital. These considerations had to be weighed by the Home Secretary. A Cabinet Minister in these days holds the position of a buffer between the permanent heads of his department, who really govern the Raj, and the assembly elected by the populace to supervise them. The first duty of the Minister, no doubt, was to support his staff, but it was also imperative to take no step that might endanger the popularity of his party in the constituencies. In this dilemma the Duke of Trent had reserved his decision till he should have had an opportunity of consulting Major Berwick, the trusted chief of the electoral machine. A smile of pleasure betrayed his gratification at the entrance of Miss Vanbrugh, who greeted him with the ease of old friendship. He told his mother briefly of the steps he had already taken on Alistair’s behalf. The Duchess gave him a grateful look. “Thank you, dear; I knew you would do what you could. I was just talking to Hero about the poor boy. The one thing we have to try for now is to make this trouble a means of rescuing him from his present life.” “I ought to make that condition, of course,” the elder brother observed doubtingly; “but from what you told me last night he would only refuse it if I were to.” “It is very difficult,” the Duchess admitted. “I am afraid you are right. Perhaps if you say nothing about conditions, and simply let him know that you are helping him generously, he will feel ashamed not to make a return.” The Duke of Trent had his own opinion as to his brother’s sense of shame, but he did not care to express it before Miss Vanbrugh. “What I want most,” the Duchess proceeded, “is to induce him to come here again. I dread the consequence of his always being with that woman. If I could get hold of him sometimes, and bring him into contact with women of a different kind, I feel sure that the contrast between them and the woman he is living with would soon disgust him with her.” Even if the Duchess had not stolen a glance at Hero Vanbrugh as she spoke, her drift could hardly have been misunderstood by the girl. The Duke failed to see the personal application of his mother’s remark.