Part 26 (2/2)

He got as far as the door and then turned.

”Marion and Lady Moyne got away all right,” he said. ”I saw them off.”

Then he left us.

”That's good news as far as it goes,” I said.

”I'm not sure,” said Moyne. ”I'm not at all sure. If there had been a riot to-night, the ordinary sort of riot--but I don't know. It's very hard to know what to hope for.”

If there had been an ordinary riot that night, and if it had been sternly and promptly suppressed, there would perhaps have been no battle next day. If, on the other hand, Conroy and Bob and the others could keep their men under control, if they could secure the peace of the city for the night, then the fighting next day was likely to be serious. As Moyne said, it was very hard to know what to hope for.

The waiter brought in our fish, and with it a message from Sir Samuel c.l.i.thering. He wanted to see Moyne. I had had enough of c.l.i.thering for one day, so I made no objection when Moyne flatly refused to see him.

I suppose a man cannot be a successful manufacturer of hosiery in the English midlands without possessing the quality of persistence.

c.l.i.thering had it. He sent another message to say that his business was very important. Moyne said that he and his business might go to h.e.l.l together. I hope the waiter translated this message into parliamentary language. c.l.i.thering is a Nonconformist, and therefore a man of tender conscience. I should not like him to be shocked.

The hotel cook was doing his best for us. He sent us up an _entree_.

With it came a note from c.l.i.thering.

”I'm sending a telegram to the Prime Minister describing the condition of affairs here. May I say that you have refused to preside at the meeting to-morrow?”

Moyne showed me the note. Then he scribbled an answer on the back of it.

”You may tell the Prime Minister that if a meeting is held I shall preside. The announcements made in the papers and posters stand good.”

”Do you think that's wise?” I asked.

”I think it's right,” said Moyne.

It is a great pity that right things very seldom are wise. I have hardly ever met anything which could possibly be called prudent which was not also either mean or actually wrong.

Our next interruption was due to a newspaper reporter. He represented several papers, among others one in New York. He had the names of all of them printed on his card, but they did not impress Moyne. Our waiter, who was beginning to swell with a sense of his own importance, drove off that newspaper reporter. Three others, all of them representing papers of high standing, sent in their cards in quick succession. Moyne laid a sovereign on the table and told the waiter that he could have it as a tip on condition that no one got into the room while we were at dinner.

The waiter got the sovereign in the end; but he did not deserve it.

While we were drinking our coffee a young man overwhelmed our waiter and forced his way into the room. There were two doors in our room, which is one of what is called a suite. As the young man entered by one, Moyne, leaving his coffee and his sovereign behind him, left by the other. He shut it with a slam and locked it.

”Lord Moyne, I presume?” said the young man.

”Lord Moyne,” I said, ”has just left.”

”May I ask,” he said, ”if I have the honour of addressing Mr.

McNeice?”

I explained that I was not McNeice. Then, in order to get him to go away, if possible, I added that I was not Malcolmson, or Cahoon, or Conroy, or the Dean.

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