"Mr. Richard Gosford is my client, as I think you know," the black-a-viced little lawyer went on, "but what I am telling you does not come direct from him to me. I need not particularise my sources of information. But from what I can gather I am almost certain that he means to resign at the end of the year—he did talk of waiting for the next General Election, as Lord Musselburgh may have told you; but his imaginary troubles have grown on him; and as far as I can see there will be nothing for you but to slip easily and quietly into his shoes next January. A very pretty New Year’s present!" "But of course there will be a contest!" Vincent exclaimed. "Not a bit," Mr. Simmons made answer, regarding the blue curls of smoke from the cigar. "The snuggest little seat in England. Everybody knows you are Lord Musselburgh’s nominee; and Lord Musselburgh has promised to do everything for our public park that Mr. Gosford ought to have done when he presented the ground. See? No bribery on your part. Simple as daylight. We’ll run you in as if you were an infant on a wheelbarrow." "It’s very kind of you, I’m sure," said Vincent. "Is there anything you would recommend me to do——?" "Yes; I would recommend you to go and call on old Gosford to-morrow, before you leave for town." "Wouldn’t that look rather like undue haste in seizing a dead man’s effects?" Vincent ventured to ask. "A dead man?" said Mr. Simmons, helping himself to another glass of port. "He is neither dead nor dying, any more than you or I. And that’s what you’ve got to remember to-morrow, when you go to see him. For goodness’ sake, don’t tell him he’s looking well—as you’ve got to say to most invalids. Tell him he’s looking very poorly. Be seriously concerned. Then he’ll be off to bed again—and delighted. For what he suffers from is simply incurable laziness—and nervous timidity; and so long as he can hide himself under the blankets, and read books, he’s happy." "But what excuse am I to make for calling on him?" Vincent asked again. "Oh," said Mr. Simmons, carelessly, "one public character visiting another. You were here delivering a lecture; and of course you called on the sitting member. You won’t want any excuse if you will tell him he should take extraordinary care of himself in this changeable weather." "And should I say anything about the seat?" Vincent asked further. "I must leave that to your own discretion. Rather ticklish. Perhaps better say nothing—unless he introduces the subject: then you can talk about the overcrowding of the House, and the late hours, and the nervous wear and tear of London. But you needn’t suggest to him, in set terms, that as he is retiring from business he might as well leave you the goodwill: perhaps that would be a little too outspoken."