“I don’t put it as high as a hope, sir.” In his use of the English language Mr. Furley liked to be precise. “A shadow of a hope is more like it. And as I have already said even that depends upon one contingency.” With the urbanity that all the Member’s supporters so greatly admired, Mr. Endor waited patiently while Mr. Ambrose Furley in his own good time proceeded to show what “the contingency” was. “It’s like this, do you see, sir? We mustn’t be blind to the fact that we are up against a ticklish situation. The voting in this election is going to be very cross. Now that you’ve come out so strong, much too strong most of us think here, against the U. P. there’s bound to be a big turnover of votes, unless we can get one man to come down on the right side of the fence. It’s just on the cards, if the gentleman in question does that, that we may not be beaten to a frazzle. But I don’t say he will. At the moment he’s seated on it. By nature he’s a blue, a regular blue--but there’s just a chance that, by a bit of management, he may come over to us. And if he does--well, sir, as I say, the voting at this election will be very cross.” At this point the Member ventured tactfully to ask the name of the unknown power. “Sir Josiah Munt,” said Mr. Furley, impressively. “Blackhampton’s Big Noise. In fact, sir,” Mr. Furley became almost lyrical, “Blackhampton’s Grand Old Man.” “You think there’s a chance of Sir Josiah coming over?” The Member, for all his air of detachment, knew far more about local politics than appeared on the surface. “By Jove, that would be one up to us.” “You bet it would, Mr. Endor. Sir Josiah is not everybody’s pretty boy, but he carries weight in this city. He’s a very honest man and he’s dead against ‘graft.’ It seems to me, sir, strictly between ourselves”--Mr. Ambrose Furley had all the shrewd penetration of a true Blackhamptonian--“that the U. P. is playing things up so high that there’s a poss-i-bil-ity, so far as Sir Munt is concerned, that it may overreach itself if it doesn’t watch it.” “Good news if it is so. Can you suggest a means, Mr. Furley, of taking advantage of the fact?” “Well sir, let us get down to brass tacks. Sir Munt is a bit of a One. He can’t be hustled. He can’t be driven. But he can see as far through a brick wall as most people. And last evening, as he was leaving the Floral Hall after the Sacred Harmonic Society’s annual performance of the Golden Legend in the company of Alderman Kearsley, another old-fashioned blue, he was overheard to remark, ‘I’m sorry to say it, Kearsley, but I’m afraid there’s going to be awful graft at this election.’” The Member agreed.