"
"You?" she exclaimed, a little blankly.
"Can you think of a more suitable person?" he asked, with a faint
note of truculence in his tone. "You have seen us all together.
I don't wish to flatter myself, but as regards education, service
to the cause, familiarity with public speaking and the number of
those I represent--"
"Yes, yes! I see," she interrupted. "Taking the twenty Labour
representatives only, Mr. Fenn, I can see nothing against your
selection, but I fancied, somehow, that some one outside--the
Bishop, for instance--"
"Absolutely out of the question," Fenn declared. "The people
would lose faith in the whole thing in a minute. The person who
throws down the gage to the Prime Minister must have the direct
mandate of the people."
They finished dinner presently. Fenn looked with admiration at
the gold, coroneted case from which Catherine helped herself to
one of her tiny cigarettes. He himself lit an American cigarette.
"I had meant, Miss Abbeway," he confided, leaning towards her, "to
suggest a theatre to you to-night--in fact, I looked at some
dress circle seats at the Gaiety with a view to purchasing.
Another matter has cropped up, however. There is a little
business for us to do."
"Business?" Catherine repeated.
He produced a folded paper from his pocket and passed it across
the table. Catherine read it with a slight frown.
"An order entitling the bearer to search Julian Orden's
apartments!" she exclaimed.
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