“The case of Warbridge Castle is different,” said the Prime Minister. “It happens unfortunately to stand in a district desolated by all the recent troubles about swine-fever, touching which the Health Controller” (here he bowed to Sir Horace Hunter) “has shown such admirable activity. It has been necessary to place the whole of this district in the hands of the Health Controller, that he may study any traces of swine-fever that may be found in the Castle, the Cathedral, the Vicarage, and so on. So much for that case, which stands somewhat apart; the others are mostly normal. Rosenbaum Castle--I should say Rosewood Castle--being of a later date, comes under Section Five, and the appointment of a permanent Castle Custodian is left to the discretion of the Government. In this case the Government has decided to appoint Mr. Rosewood Low to the post, in recognition of his local services to social science and economics. In all these cases, of course, due compensation will be paid to the present owners of the estates, and ample salaries and expenses of entertainment paid to the new officials, that the places may be kept up in a manner worthy of their historical and national character.” He paused, as if for cheers, and Sir Horace was vaguely irritated into saying: “But look here, my castle----” “Damn it all!” said the Prime Minister, with his first flash of impatience and sincerity. “Can’t you see you’ll get twice as much as before? First you’ll be compensated for losing your castle, and then you’ll be paid for keeping it.” “My lord,” said Lord Normantowers humbly, “I apologize for anything I may have said or suggested. I ought to have known I stood in the presence of a great English statesman.” “Oh, it’s easy enough,” said Lord Eden frankly. “Look how easily we remained in the saddle, in spite of democratic elections; how we managed to dominate the Commons as well as the Lords. It’ll be the same with what they call Socialism. We shall still be there; only we shall be called bureaucrats instead of aristocrats.” “I see it all now!” cried Hunter, “and by Heaven, it’ll be the end of all this confounded demagogy of Three Acres and a Cow.” “I think so,” said the Prime Minister with a smile; and began to fold up the large maps. As he was folding up the last and largest, he suddenly stopped and said: “Hallo!” A letter was lying in the middle of the table; a letter in a sealed envelope, and one which he evidently did not recognize as any part of his paper paraphernalia. “Where did this letter come from?” he asked rather sharply. “Did you put it here, Eustace?” “No,” said Mr. Pym staring. “I never saw it before. It didn’t come with your letters this morning.” “It didn’t come by post at all,” said Lord Eden; “and none of the servants brought it in. How the devil did it get out here in the garden?” He ripped it open with his finger and remained for some time staring in mystification at its contents.