"I mean it must--it ought to. As I say, we've done our best to be generous; I defy any one to deny it. As it is, Mr. Wayne, I don't want to say a word that's uncivil. I hope it's not uncivil to say that you can be, and ought to be, in gaol. It is criminal to stop public works for a whim. A man might as well burn ten thousand onions in his front garden or bring up his children to run naked in the street, as do what you say you have a right to do. People have been compelled to sell before now. The King could compel you, and I hope he will." "Until he does," said Wayne, calmly, "the power and government of this great nation is on my side and not yours, and I defy you to defy it." "In what sense," cried Barker, with his feverish eyes and hands, "is the Government on your side?" With one ringing movement Wayne unrolled a great parchment on the table. It was decorated down the sides with wild water-colour sketches of vestrymen in crowns and wreaths. "The Charter of the Cities," he began. Buck exploded in a brutal oath and laughed. "That tomfool's joke. Haven't we had enough--" "And there you sit," cried Wayne, springing erect and with a voice like a trumpet, "with no argument but to insult the King before his face." Buck rose also with blazing eyes. "I am hard to bully," he began--and the slow tones of the King struck in with incomparable gravity-- "My Lord Buck, I must ask you to remember that your King is present. It is not often that he needs to protect himself among his subjects." Barker turned to him with frantic gestures. "For God's sake don't back up the madman now," he implored. "Have your joke another time. Oh, for Heaven's sake--" "My Lord Provost of South Kensington," said King Auberon, steadily, "I do not follow your remarks, which are uttered with a rapidity unusual at Court. Nor do your well-meant efforts to convey the rest with your fingers materially assist me. I say that my Lord Provost of North Kensington, to whom I spoke, ought not in the presence of his Sovereign to speak disrespectfully of his Sovereign's ordinances. Do you disagree?" Barker turned restlessly in his chair, and Buck cursed without speaking. The King went on in a comfortable voice-- "My Lord Provost of Notting Hill, proceed." Wayne turned his blue eyes on the King, and to every one's surprise there was a look in them not of triumph, but of a certain childish distress. "I am sorry, your Majesty," he said; "I fear I was more than equally to blame with the Lord Provost of North Kensington. We were debating somewhat eagerly, and we both rose to our feet. I did so first, I am ashamed to say. The Provost of North Kensington is, therefore, comparatively innocent. I beseech your Majesty to address your rebuke chiefly, at least, to me. Mr. Buck is not innocent, for he did no doubt, in the heat of the moment, speak disrespectfully. But the rest of the discussion he seems to me to have conducted with great good temper."