"Certainly," replied the smiling minister. "But I should first of all like to shake hands with all my friends;" and quite slowly he walked round the table and shook hands with each of the men present and those of the ladies whom he knew. He was in the best of tempers, and he had a cordial word for every one except for Captain Ramos. To him he merely said: "Ah!" and the accent of his voice had in it no note of surprise. It was the ejaculation of a man establishing something which he had suspected. Then he walked to his place and sat down. "There are eighteen members of Parliament, Challoner," he said pleasantly. "I hope that I have forgotten no one. Let me see!" Again his eye ranged round the table, obviously registering in his memory the identity of Challoner's guests. "No, eighteen members of Parliament. Have you got a partridge left?" Rames leaned forward and met smile with smile. "We have just left one for next year," he said, "and we have been making a careful note of the piece of land on which we think we shall get him." Howard Fall was delighted. For he loved courage. But the others of that company were more than ever confused and disconcerted. "He's giving us away," said one of the weak-kneed in an indignant whisper to Andrew Fallon. Fallon's white face was twisted in a grin. "He's cutting down the bridge behind you, my friend. And I don't think he's a bad judge." Meanwhile Devenish returned the direct gaze of Captain Rames. There was no pretence between these two. Their eyes met; they challenged each other, Rames with perfect good-humor, Devenish with a certain grimness in his smile. He nodded his head toward Rames and tightened his lips. There was not a man at that table who could not construe the gesture into words. "You are the leader here, Rames. Very well, we'll see." Mr. Devenish turned to his neighbor. It was Cynthia, and even to her he talked for a little while with reserve. Rames had been correct in his diagnosis of the man. A good-humored fighter as a rule, he lost his good-humor when the attack was made upon his flank. He had begun his own political career with side-shots at his leaders from the front-bench below the gangway; but he did not rejoice when the same disposition of battle was planned against himself. However, luncheon and the proximity of a beautiful woman appeased him as they should. He began to talk freely; his smile lost its grimness, his natural geniality flashed bright. "Tell me one thing," he said suddenly. "It depends--" said Cynthia warily. "Very well then. Tell me another thing. Why does your portrait hang in this house?" Cynthia's cheeks flamed. She looked swiftly across Devenish at Colonel Challoner. But he was giving no heed to them. "Do you think it's like me?" she asked. "It _is_ you," he replied. "No one else has noticed the resemblance all this week," said Cynthia. Mr. Devenish glanced along the table.