The Yellow Crayon

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A barely furnished man's room, comfortable, austere, scholarly. Therefuge of a busy man, to judge by the piles of books and papers whichlittered the large open writing-table. There were despatch boxes turnedupside down, a sea of parchment and foolscap. In the midst of it all aman deep in thought.

  A visitor, entering with the freedom of an old acquaintance, laidhis hand upon his shoulder and greeted him with an air of suppressedenthusiasm.

  "Planning the campaign, eh, Brott? Or is that a handbook to Courtetiquette? You will need it within the week. There are all sorts ofrumours at the clubs."

  Brott shook himself free from his fit of apathetic reflection. He wouldnot have dared to tell his visitor where his thoughts had been for thelast half hour.

  "Somehow," he said, "I do not think that little trip to Windsor willcome just yet. The King will never send for me unless he is compelled."

  His visitor, an ex-Cabinet Minister, a pronounced Radical and a lifelongfriend of Brott's, shrugged his shoulders.

  "That time," he said, "is very close at hand. He will send forLetheringham first, of course, and great pressure will be brought tobear upon him to form a ministry. But without you he will be helpless.He has not the confidence of the people."

  "Without me," Brott repeated slowly. "You think then that I should notaccept office with Letheringham?"

  His visitor regarded him steadily for a moment, open-mouthed, obviouslytaken aback.

  "Brott, are you in your right senses?" he asked incredulously. "Do youknow what you are saying?"

  Brott laughed a little nervously.

  "This is a great issue, Grahame," he said. "I will confess that I am inan undecided state. I am not sure that the country is in a sufficientlyadvanced state for our propaganda. Is this really our opportunity, or isit only the shadow of what is to come thrown before? If we show our handtoo soon all is lost for this generation. Don't look at me as though Iwere insane, Grahame. Remember that the country is only just free from along era of Conservative rule."

  "The better our opportunity," Grahame answered vigorously. "Two decadesof puppet government are enervating, I admit, but they only pave theway more surely to the inevitable reaction. What is the matter withyou, Brott? Are you ill? This is the great moment of our lives. You mustspeak at Manchester and Birmingham within this week. Glasgow is alreadypreparing for you. Everything and everybody waits for your judgment.Good God, man, it's magnificent! Where's your enthusiasm? Within a monthyou must be Prime Minister, and we will show the world the way to a newera."

  Brott sat quite still. His friend's words had stirred him for themoment. Yet he seemed the victim of a curious indecision. Grahame leanedover towards him.

  "Brott, old friend," he said, "you are not ill?"

  Brott shook his head.

  "I am perfectly well," he said.

  Grahame hesitated.

  "It is a delicate thing to mention," he said. "Perhaps I shall pass eventhe bounds of our old comradeship. But you have changed. Something iswrong with you. What is it?"

  "There is nothing," Brott answered, looking up. "It is your fancy. I amwell enough."

  Grahame's face was dark with anxiety.

  "This is no idle curiosity of mine," he said. "You know me better thanthat. But the cause which is nearer my heart than life itself is atstake. Brott, you are the people's man, their promised redeemer. Thinkof them, the toilers, the oppressed, God's children, groaning under theiniquitous laws of generations of evil statesmanship. It is the dawn oftheir new day, their faces are turned to you. Man, can't you hear themcrying? You can't fail them. You mustn't. I don't know what is thematter with you, Brott, but away with it. Free yourself, man."

  Brott sighed wearily, but already there was a change in him. Hisface was hardening--the lines in his face deepened. Grahame continuedhastily--eagerly.

  "Public men," he said, "are always at the mercy of the halfpenny press,but you know, Brott, your appearance so often in Society lately has setmen's tongues wagging. There is no harm done, but it is time to stopthem. You are right to want to understand these people. You must go downamongst them. It has been slumming in Mayfair for you, I know. But havedone with it now. It is these people we are going to fight. Let it beopen war. Let them hear your programme at Glasgow. We don't want anotherFrench Revolution, but it is going to be war against the drones, fierce,merciless war! You must break with them, Brott, once and for ever. Andthe time is now."

  Brott held out his hand across the table. No one but this one man couldhave read the struggle in his face.

  "You are right, Grahame. I thank you. I thank you as much for what youhave left unsaid as for what you have said. I was a fool to think ofcompromising. Letheringham is a nerveless leader. We should have gonepottering on for another seven years. Thank God that you came when youdid. See here!"

  He tossed him over a letter. Grahame's cheek paled as he read.

  "Already!" he murmured.

  Brott nodded.

  "Read it!"

  Grahame devoured every word. His eyes lit up with excitement.

  "My prophecy exactly," he exclaimed, laying it down. "It is as I said.He cannot form the ministry without you. His letter is abject. He giveshimself away. It is an entreaty. And your answer?"

  "Has not yet gone," Brott said. "You shall write it yourself if youlike. I am thankful that you came when you did."

  "You were hesitating?" Grahame exclaimed.

  "I was."

  Grahame looked at him in wonder, and Brott faced him sturdily.

  "It seems like treason to you, Grahame!" he said. "So it does to menow. I want nothing in the future to come between us," he continuedmore slowly, "and I should like if I can to expunge the memory of thisinterview. And so I am going to tell you the truth." Grahame held outhis hand.

  "Don't!" he said. "I can forget without."

  Brott shook his head.

  "No," he said. "You had better understand everything. The halfpennypress told the truth. Yet only half the truth. I have been to allthese places, wasted my time, wasted their time, from a purely selfishreason--to be near the only woman I have ever cared for, the woman,Grahame!"

  "I knew it," Grahame murmured. "I fought against the belief, I thoughtthat I had stifled it. But I knew it all the time."

  "If I have seemed lukewarm sometimes of late," Brott said, "there is thecause. She is an aristocrat, and my politics are hateful to her. She hastold me so seriously, playfully, angrily. She has let me feel it in ahundred ways. She has drawn me into discussions and shown the utmosthorror of my views. I have cared for her all my life, and she knowsit. And I think, Grahame, that lately she has been trying constantly,persistently, to tone down my opinions. She has let me understand thatthey are a bar between us. And it is a horrible confession, Grahame, butI believe that I was wavering. This invitation from Letheringham seemedsuch a wonderful opportunity for compromise."

  "This must never go out of the room," Grahame said hoarsely. "It wouldruin your popularity. They would never trust you again."

  "I shall tell no one else," Brott said.

  "And it is over?" Grahame demanded eagerly.

  "It is over."

  * * * * *

  The Duke of Dorset, who entertained for his party, gave a great dinnerthat night at Dorset House, and towards its close the Prince of SaxeLeinitzer, who was almost the only non-political guest, moved up to hishost in response to an eager summons. The Duke was perturbed.

  "You have heard the news, Saxe Leinitzer?"

  "I did not know of any news," the Prince answered. "What is it?"

  "Brott has refused to join with Letheringham in forming a ministry. Itis rumoured even that a coalition was proposed, and that Brott wouldhave nothing to do with it."

  The Prince looked into his wineglass.

  "Ah!" he said.

  "This is disturbing news," the Duke continued. "You do not seem toappreciate its significance."

  The Pri
nce looked up again.

  "Perhaps not," he said. "You shall explain to me."

  "Brott refuses to compromise," the Duke said. "He stands for a ministryof his own selection. Heaven only knows what mischief this may mean.His doctrines are thoroughly revolutionary. He is an iconoclast with agenius for destruction. But he has the ear of the people. He is to-daytheir Rienzi."

  The Prince nodded.

  "And Lucille?" he remarked. "What does she say?"

  "I have not spoken to her," the Duke answered. "The news has only justcome."

  "We will speak to her," the Prince said, "together."

  Afterwards in the library there was a sort of informal meeting, andtheir opportunity came.

  "So you have failed, Countess," her host said, knitting his grey browsat her.

  She smilingly acknowledged defeat.

  "But I can assure you," she said, "that I was very near success. Onlyon Monday he had virtually made up his mind to abandon the extreme partyand cast in his lot with Letheringham. What has happened to change him Ido not know."

  The Prince curled his fair moustache.

  "It is a pity," he said, "that he changed his mind. For one thing isvery certain. The Duke and I are agreed upon it. A Brott ministry mustnever be formed."

  She looked up quickly.

  "What do you mean?"

  The Prince answered her without hesitation.

  "If one course fails," he said, "another must be adopted. I regrethaving to make use of means which are somewhat clumsy and obvious. Butour pronouncement on this one point is final. Brott must not be allowedto form a ministry."

  She looked at him with something like horror in her soft full eyes.

  "What would you do?" she murmured.

  The Prince shrugged his shoulders.

  "Well," he said, "we are not quite medieval enough to adopt the onlyreally sensible method and remove Mr. Brott permanently from the face ofthe earth. We should stop a little short of that, but I can assure youthat Mr. Brott's health for the next few months is a matter for graveuncertainty. It is a pity for his sake that you failed."

  She bit her lip.

  "Do you know if he is still in London?" she asked.

  "He must be on the point of leaving for Scotland," the Duke answered."If he once mounts the platform at Glasgow there will be no furtherchance of any compromise. He will be committed irretrievably to hiscampaign of anarchy."

  "And to his own disaster," the Prince murmured.

  Lucille remained for a moment deep in thought. Then she looked up.

  "If I can find him before he starts," she said hurriedly, "I will makeone last effort."