“But is it not clear?” cried Dom Miguel. “If it were I should perceive it,” said his lordship dryly. “Ah, but let me explain, then. A further investigation of the manner in which Count Samoval met his death can hardly fail to bring to light the deplorable practices in which he was engaged; for no doubt Colonel Grant, here, would consider it his duty in the interests of justice to place before the court the documents found upon the Count’s dead body. If I may permit myself an observation,” he continued, looking round at Colonel Grant, “it is that I do not quite understand how this has not already happened.” There was a pause in which Grant looked at Wellington as if for direction. But his lordship himself assumed the burden of the answer. “It was not considered expedient in the public interest to do so at present,” he said. “And the circumstances did not place us under the necessity of divulging the matter.” “There, my lord, if you will allow me to say so, you acted with a delicacy and wisdom which the circumstances may not again permit. Indeed any further investigation must almost inevitably bring these matters to light, and the effect of such revelation would be deplorable.” “Deplorable to whom?” asked his lordship. “To the Count’s family and to the Council of Regency.” “I can sympathise with the Count’s family, but not with the Council.” “Surely, my lord, the Council as a body deserves your sympathy in that it is in danger of being utterly discredited by the treason of one or two of its members.” Wellington manifested impatience. “The Council has been warned time and again. I am weary of warning, and even of threatening, the Council with the consequences of resisting my policy. I think that exposure is not only what it deserves, but the surest means of providing a healthier government in the future. I am weary of picking my way through the web of intrigue with which the Council entangles my movements and my dispositions. Public sympathy has enabled it to hamper me in this fashion. That sympathy will be lost to it by the disclosures which you fear.” “My lord, I must confess that there is much reason in what you say.” He was smoothly conciliatory. “I understand your exasperation. But may I be permitted to assure you that it is not the Council as a body that has withstood you, but certain self-seeking members, one or two friends of Principal Souza, in whose interests the unfortunate and misguided Count Samoval was acting. Your lordship will perceive that the moment is not one in which to stir up public indignation against the Portuguese Government. Once the passions of the mob are inflamed, who can say to what lengths they may not go, who can say what disastrous consequences may not follow? It is desirable to apply the cautery, but not to burn up the whole body.” Lord Wellington considered a moment, fingering an ivory paper-knife. He was partly convinced.