“I agree with you--yes, I fully appreciate the force of what you say, Clifton,” cried Sir Harcourt. “You will be adding to your innumerable services to the party if you collect the figures bearing upon this little matter and let me know the result. Of course, if Eardley’s seat were sure... but in any case we have an excellent man to fall back on.” “I think I understand how the matter rests, and I will lose no time in collecting my figures,” said the Secretary; while the Minister straightened out his gloves and got upon his feet. “I am sure you have a complete grasp of the business,” said Sir Harcourt. “Perhaps in a week--there is no immediate hurry.” “Possibly in a week I shall have enough to go upon.” He opened the door for his visitor and Sir Harcourt thanked him, and departed. “It was an inspiration,” said Clifton below his breath when he was alone. He walked across the thick Turkey carpet--offices furnished at the expense of an organisation invariably have thick Turkey carpets--and stood with his back to the empty grate. “An inspiration,” he murmured once more. He smiled rather grimly, took the letter out of his breast pocket, read it thoughtfully and smiled again. Then he went to a window and looked out. The day was gloomy but the rain was still keeping off. He tapped the barometer that hung at one side of the window. He felt certain that there would be thunder before night. CHAPTER XX Josephine had at one time--and it was not so very long ago--been accustomed to send little missives to Mr. Ernest Clifton giving him some information as to the entertainments to which she was going from week to week so that their accidental meetings were frequent. A good deal of fortuitous coming together can be arranged for by two persons of ordinary enterprise. Since she had, however, become sensitive on the subject of her duty to her parents, and had come to the conclusion that her attitude in regard to Mr. Clifton was not one that any girl with a right appreciation of what was due to herself as well as to her father and mother would adopt, she had dropped this illicit correspondence--after giving him due notice--so that their meetings were altogether the result of chance. Still, even trusting only to this fickle power, they had a good many opportunities of exchanging hand clasps and of sitting in the same drawing-room. Since that momentous dinner at Ranelagh, however, neither of them had had an opportunity of reverting to the subject of her conversation when alone with him on the terrace; hence she had been compelled to write to him that letter which he had read and upon which he had pondered before the arrival of Sir Harcourt Mortimer, and some time too after the departure of that minister. (By the way, that thunderstorm came on all right before the evening.)