Then Dudley rose eagerly, happy in the knowledge that he was almost through the ordeal, and, with a preliminary "Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen," addressed the hundred or so of his faithful supporters, telling them this and that about the Government, and assuring them of the soundness of the policy adopted by Her Majesty's Ministers. It was not a very long speech, but it was upon a subject of the moment; and as there were two "gentlemen of the Press" representing the local advertisement sheets, the one a mere boy, and the other a melancholy, disappointed-looking man, with a sage and rather ascetic expression, the speech would appear in the papers, and the Godalming Lodge of Odd Fellows would receive the credit of having entertained one of England's most rising statesmen. The two representatives of the Press, each of whom took himself very seriously, had been regaled with a bottle of port and some cigars by the committee, who entertained a hope that they would thus be induced to give a lengthy and laudatory account of the function. While Dudley was on his legs the cloud of tobacco-smoke became thicker and thicker. Those triumphs of the tobacconist called "tuppenny smokes" are nauseous when in combination with the odour of food. Dudley sniffed them, coughed slightly, sipped some water, and then drew his speech to a close amid a terrific outburst of applause and a beating upon the tables which caused the glasses and crockery to jingle. While this oration was in full blast he noticed a committee-man uncovering the piano, by which he knew that "harmony" was to embellish the hot whiskey period. At last, however, he managed to excuse himself, upon the plea that he must return to the House for a Division that was expected; and as soon as he was out in the High Street he breathed more freely. Then he hurried to the train, and, entering the express from Portsmouth, tried to forget the spot he had visited in that small belt of forest--the scene that too often commanded the most vivid powers of his memory. "I was a fool ever to have gone there!--an absolute fool!" he murmured to himself, as he flung himself back in the first-class compartment when alone. "I ran an unnecessary risk. And that man who came so suddenly upon me just as I was leaving! What if he had watched and recognised me? If so, he would certainly gossip about my presence there, describe my actions--and then--" He was silent; his face became blanched and drawn. "Even though six years have passed, the affair is not forgotten," he went on in a hard voice. "It is still the local mystery which Scotland Yard failed to elucidate. Yes," he added, "I was a fool--a confounded fool! What absurd whim took me to that place of all others, I can't imagine. I'm mad--mad!" he cried in wild despair. "This madness is the shadow of suicide!" Instead of going down to the House he drove back at once to his chambers.