Mr. Forrester could quite easily have answered this question, had it been prudent to do so. He could have told him that he was wanted by the Party because there was a difficulty with two men, each of whom believed that he had a right to the reversion of the seat, and would certainly contest it in view of the other coming forward. In such a case the seat would undoubtedly be seized by the solitary representative of the Other Party. But Mr. Forrester perceived that such an explanation would occupy a good deal of valuable time; and he wished to spare his friend and his friend’s charming wife an acquaintance with details which possibly a man, and certainly a woman, looking into the arena of politics from a private box, might regard as sordid. So he merely laid his hand on his friend’s knee, and said: “Leave that to us, my dear Wingfield. You may be sure that we would not take you up unless we saw that you could do something for us that would pay us for our trouble. Now, don’t you decide against us in a hurry. Talk the matter over with Mrs. Wingfield. I wouldn’t give much for a man who didn’t take his wife into his confidence on such important things.” “And how much would you give for a man who did, and then decided by her advice against you?” asked Jack. “The constituency is a peculiar one,” said Forrester, ignoring the question. “They hate politics. If we were to send them a well-known politician he would have no chance with them. What they want is a man like yourself--a simple ordinary, everyday, good-wearing English gentleman--plain commonsense--that’s what they want; nothing very definite in the way of a programme; they don’t want a windbag or a gasometer; they’re not going in for air ships at Nuttingford. You know what Cotton is?” “Cotton? Who the mischief is Cotton that I should know of him?” “That’s the best proof of the accuracy of what I’ve been telling you. Cotton is the man who has sat for the constituency for the past fifteen years, and yet nobody has heard of him.” “And why shouldn’t he continue in the obscurity of the House of Commons for another fifteen years? Nobody wants him outside, I suppose.” “He has been ordered off by his doctor, and he is applying for the Chiltern Hundreds at once. He will mention your name in his valedictory address, and we’ll do the rest--that is, of course--you know what I mean?” “Blest if I do, quite!” “Oh, I mean that having provided them with the right man for them--the man they want--we’ll see that they are loyal to you.” ‘“Wingfield and the Old Cause’--that’ll be the war cry, I suppose. You’ll have to coach me on the old cause--only there’ll be no need, for I haven’t the remotest idea of standing. I’m going in for a big electric scheme, Forrester, and I’ll have no time for politics.” “I refuse to take your answer now. I should be doing you a grave injustice. I didn’t except you to jump at my offer before it was well out of my lips. Heavens, man! a seat in the House of Commons----”