Wattercouch had many preoccupations just now, but his vigilance was a habit, and he was struck by the change in Mr. Alderman Verity’s attitude. The silence which succeeded his eloquence seemed pregnant with something, and Wattercouch wondered with what. It was an error of judgment in the Alderman not to be ill at this time, but he had covered his tracks and the affair was prejudged, settled before it ever came before the Council. Verity had neither conscience nor fears about it, and the Conservative Party, with a prescient eye on the imminent General Election, was going to use its majority in the Council that it might figure as the Party which bestowed cleanliness on Hulme. Wattercouch wondered why it was Simpson’s Buildings which those benefactors of mankind proposed to buy and demolish so as to clear a site for their Baths. “This might be your opportunity, Branstone,” he said. “Isn’t it asking a good deal of the junior member of the Council to suggest that he tackle an old hand like Alderman Verity?” asked Sam, leaning back in his chair with his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes. “We all expect great things of you,” flattered Wattercouch, who had still to justify his selection of Sam to the Liberal caucus. “I don’t intend to fail you, either. But I can’t oppose these Baths. As a Liberal I am in favour of them.” “So are we all. But we are not in favour of Alderman Verity’s being in favour of them.” “It’s David and Goliath to pit me against Verity, Wattercouch.” “David won.” “And Samuel will win. But he will make a condition. The condition is a free hand. I want no help and no advice and I undertake on that condition to pulverize Verity.” “But you’ll tell me what you propose to do?” “I said a free hand, Wattercouch. Leave this to me and I’ll settle it.” It seemed to Wattercouch that every time he had dealings with Sam he was asked to take a gambling chance, but he had no plan of action, and the man without a plan is always at a disadvantage against the man who, with or without a plan, looks confident. He left it to Sam and there was, as it happened, nobody to whom he could have left it better. Wattercouch had no inside information and only vague suspicions that Verity’s change of mind was rooted in the same earth as Verity’s self-interest. But Sam knew something and was not boasting idly when he undertook to “pulverize” Verity. What he knew, rightly used at the right moment, was dynamic enough, but he lacked evidence and he did not see how to get evidence. The Council meeting was at hand and he was finding it each day more difficult to grin with cheerful assurance at the mutely questioning Wattercouch. He felt distinctly unassured.