steps. He made no reference to his recent doings, and together they
went into the house and asked for Mr. Aylmore.

Spargo looked with more than uncommon interest at the man who presently
came to them in the visitors' room. He was already familiar with Mr.
Aylmore's photograph, but he never remembered seeing him in real life;
the Member for Brookminster was one of that rapidly diminishing body of
legislators whose members are disposed to work quietly and
unobtrusively, doing yeoman service on committees, obeying every behest
of the party whips, without forcing themselves into the limelight or
seizing every opportunity to air their opinions. Now that Spargo met
him in the flesh he proved to be pretty much what the journalist had
expected--a rather cold-mannered, self-contained man, who looked as if
he had been brought up in a school of rigid repression, and taught not
to waste words. He showed no more than the merest of languid interests
in Spargo when Breton introduced him, and his face was quite
expressionless when Spargo brought to an end his brief explanation
--purposely shortened--of his object in calling upon him.

"Yes," he said indifferently. "Yes, it is quite true that I met Marbury
and spent a little time with him on the evening your informant spoke
of. I met him, as he told you, in the lobby of the House. I was much
surprised to meet him. I had not seen him for--I really don't know how
many years."

He paused and looked at Spargo as if he was wondering what he ought or
not to say to a newspaper man. Spargo remained silent, waiting. And
presently Mr. Aylmore went on.

"I read your account in the _Watchman_ this morning," he said. "I was