The Moon Endureth: Tales and Fancies

by John Buchan

  III

  When I opened my paper next morning I read two startling pieces ofnews. Lord Mulross had been knocked down by a taxi-cab on his way homethe night before, and was now in bed suffering from a bad shock and abruised ankle. There was no cause for anxiety, said the report, buthis lordship must keep his room for a week or two.

  The second item, which filled leading articles and overflowed into"Political Notes," was Mr. Vennard's speech. The Secretary for Indiahad gone down about eleven o'clock to the House, where an Indian debatewas dragging out its slow length. He sat himself on the Treasury Benchand took notes, and the House soon filled in anticipation of his reply.His "tail"--progressive young men like himself--were there in fullstrength, ready to cheer every syllable which fell from their idol.Somewhere about half-past twelve he rose to wind up the debate, and theHouse was treated to an unparalleled sensation. He began with hiscritics, notably the unfortunate Simpson, and, pretty much inWestbury's language to the herald, called them silly old men who didnot understand their silly old business. But it was the reasons hegave for this abuse which left his followers aghast. He attacked hiscritics not for being satraps and reactionaries, but because they haddared to talk second-rate Western politics in connection with India.

  "Have you lived for forty years with your eyes shut," he cried, "thatyou cannot see the difference between a Bengali, married at fifteen andworshipping a pantheon of savage gods, and the university-extensionYoung Radical at home? There is a thousand years between them, and youdream of annihilating the centuries with a little dubious popularscience!" Then he turned to the other critics of Indianadministration--his quondam supporters. He analysed the character ofthese "members for India" with a vigour and acumen which deprived themof speech. The East, he said, had had its revenge upon the West bymaking certain Englishmen babus. His honourable friends had the sameslipshod minds, and they talked the same pigeon-English, as thepatriots of Bengal. Then his mood changed, and he delivered a solemnwarning against what he called "the treason begotten of restless vanityand proved incompetence." He sat down, leaving a House deeplyimpressed and horribly mystified.

  The Times did not know what to make of it at all. In a weighty leaderit welcomed Mr. Vennard's conversion, but hinted that with a convert'szeal he had slightly overstated his case. The Daily Chronicle talkedof "nervous breakdown," and suggested "kindly forgetfulness" as thebest treatment. The Daily News, in a spirited article called "TheGreat Betrayal," washed its hands of Mr. Vennard unless he donned thewhite sheet of the penitent. Later in the day I got The WestminsterGazette, and found an ingenious leader which proved that the speech inno way conflicted with Liberal principles, and was capable of a quiteordinary explanation. Then I went to see Lady Caerlaverock.

  I found my aunt almost in tears.

  "What has happened?" she cried. "What have we done that we should bepunished in this awful way? And to think that the blow fell in thishouse? Caerlaverock--we all--thought Mr. Vennard so strange last night,and Lady Lavinia told me that Mr. Cargill was perfectly horrible. Isuppose it must be the heat and the strain of the session. And thatpoor Lord Mulross, who was always so wise, should be stricken down atthis crisis!"

  I did not say that I thought Mulross's accident a mercifuldispensation. I was far more afraid of him than of all the others, forif with his reputation for sanity he chose to run amok, he would betaken seriously. He was better in bed than affixing a flea to VonKladow's ear.

  "Caerlaverock was with the Prime Minister this morning," my aunt wenton. "He is going to make a statement in the Lords tomorrow to try tocover Mr. Vennard's folly. They are very anxious about what Mr.Cargill will do today. He is addressing the National Convention ofYoung Liberals at Oldham this afternoon, and though they have sent hima dozen telegrams they can get no answer. Caerlaverock went to DowningStreet an hour ago to get news."

  There was the sound of an electric brougham stopping in the squarebelow, and we both listened with a premonition of disaster. A minutelater Caerlaverock entered the room, and with him the Prime Minister.The cheerful, eupeptic countenance of the latter was clouded with care.He shook hands dismally with my aunt, nodded to me, and flung himselfdown on a sofa.

  "The worst has happened," Caerlaverock boomed solemnly. "Cargill hasbeen incredibly and infamously silly." He tossed me an evening paper.

  One glance convinced me that the Convention of Young Liberals had had awaking-up. Cargill had addressed them on what he called the true viewof citizenship. He had dismissed manhood suffrage as an obsoletefolly. The franchise, he maintained, should be narrowed and given onlyto citizens, and his definition of citizenship was military trainingcombined with a fairly high standard of rates and taxes. I do not knowhow the Young Liberals received his creed, but it had no sort ofsuccess with the Prime Minister.

  "We must disavow him," said Caerlaverock.

  "He is too valuable a man to lose," said the Prime Minister. "We musthope that it is only a temporary aberration. I simply cannot spare himin the House."

  "But this is flat treason."

  "I know, I know. It is all too horrible, and utterly unexpected. Butthe situation wants delicate handling, my dear Caerlaverock. I seenothing for it but to give out that he was ill."

  "Or drunk?" I suggested.

  The Prime Minister shook his head sadly. "I fear it will be the samething. What we call illness the ordinary man will interpret asintoxication. It is a most regrettable necessity, but we must face it."

  The harassed leader rose, seized the evening paper, and departed asswiftly as he had come. "Remember, illness," were his parting words."An old heart trouble, which is apt to affect his brain. His friendshave always known about it."

  I walked home, and looked in at the Club on my way. There I foundDeloraine devouring a hearty tea and looking the picture of virtuoushappiness.

  "Well, this is tremendous news," I said, as I sat down beside him.

  "What news?" he asked with a start.

  "This row about Vennard and Cargill."

  "Oh, that! I haven't seen the papers to-day. What's it all about?"His tone was devoid of interest.

  Then I knew that something of great private moment had happened toTommy.

  "I hope I may congratulate you," I said.

  Deloraine beamed on me affectionately. "Thanks very much, old man.Things came all right, quite suddenly, you know. We spent most of thetime at the Alvanleys together, and this morning in the Park sheaccepted me. It will be in the papers next week, but we mean to keepit quiet for a day or two. However, it was your right to be told--and,besides, you guessed."

  I remember wondering, as I finished my walk home, whether there couldnot be some connection between the stroke of Providence which haddriven three Cabinet Ministers demented and that gentler touch whichhad restored Miss Claudia Barriton to good sense and a reasonablemarriage.