I accordingly shall not leave London."
Mr. Bundercombe cheered up perceptibly at these words.
"I am rather busy myself," he said; "but perhaps a day or two----"
I thrust my arm through his.
"I rely upon you to help me canvass," I told him. "A lot is done by
personal persuasion."
"Canvass!" Mr. Bundercombe repeated reflectively. "Say, just what do you
mean by that?"
"It is very simple," I assured him. "You go and talk to the farmers and
voters generally, and put a few plain issues before them--we'll post you
up all right as to what to say. Then you wind up by asking for their votes
and interest on my behalf."
"I do that--do I?" Mr. Bundercombe murmured. "Talk to them in a plain,
straightforward way, eh?"
"That's it," I agreed. "A man with sound common sense like yourself could
do me a lot of good."
Mr. Bundercombe was thoughtful, I am convinced that at that moment the
germs of certain ideas which bore fruit a little later on were born in his
mind. I saw him blink several times as he gazed up at the ceiling. I saw a
faint smile gradually expand over his face. A premonition of trouble, even
at that moment, forced itself on me.
"You'll have to be careful, you know," I explained, a little
apprehensively.
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