"In a sense, yes; but in another sense, no. The question to-night was a brewer's question. Well, if they resigned and went to the country, they would be returned again. The brewers, for whom the Government has been fighting, would be sufficiently strong at the polls to secure the return of their supporters." "Which is a strong reason why the Government will resign." They went on discussing the question, neither saying anything worthy of record. They seemed to be deeply interested, however; perhaps because two of them were Parliamentary candidates. The man who sat apart, however, took no note of the conversation. He could by listening carefully have heard all that was said, but his mind seemed elsewhere. Neither did he speak to the others, although he knew each one intimately. Of what he was thinking it would be difficult to tell. There was a strange, vacant look in his eyes, and his face was very pale. He seemed utterly oblivious of the time, and although a waiter hovered near, as if to remind the party that he was very sleepy, this young man especially took no note of his presence. Presently he aroused himself, and rang a bell which stood on the table at his elbow. The waiter came towards him sleepily. "Whisky," he said. "Yes, sir." "A large one." "Yes, sir." "And make haste about it." The waiter left the room, while the others glanced at each other significantly. "How many is that to-night?" said one in a low voice. "Heaven knows, I don't. He's on the drink again." "If I'd taken half he's had, I should have to be carried to bed." "Pity, isn't it? He's ruining his career." "I don't know. He never shows he's been drinking. He's always at his best when he's drunk." "He's never drunk." "Well, you know what I mean. He can never do himself justice now, unless he's had what would make any one of us incapable." "Yes, but that kind of thing can't last. No constitution could stand it. In time it'll destroy his nerves, and then----" "Yes, it's a pity." The waiter brought the young man a large measure of whisky and a bottle of soda-water. He poured a small quantity of soda into the whisky. His hand was steady and he did not seem to be in the least affected by what he had drunk. He lifted the glass to his lips and nearly drained it. Then he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. "I should think he will soon be asleep, now," whispered one. "Not he." "It's an awful pity. Don't you think one ought to try and warn him?" "Try it. I would not like to." "But he's ruining his life. A fellow of such brilliance, too. Do you remember that speech he made at the Eclectic?"