Mr. Stark consulted his watch.

"I'm at leisure for just nineteen minutes. If you care to sit down,
I have an idea I should like to put before you."

The visitor seated himself and crossed his legs. His countenance
gave small promise of attention.

"You know," resumed Mr. Stark, leaning forward and twiddling his
thumbs, "that they're hoping to get rid of Welwyn-Baker at the next
election?"

"What of that?"

"Toby Liversedge talks of coming forward--but _that_ won't do."

"Probably not."

The solicitor bent still more and tapped his friend's knee.

"Glazzard, here is your moment. Here is your chance of getting what
you want. Liversedge is reluctant to stand; I know that for certain.
To a more promising man he'll yield with pleasure.--St! st! listen
to me!--you are that man. Go down; see Toby; see the wiseacres and
wire-pullers; get your name in vogue! It's cut out for you. Act now,
or never again pretend that you want a chance."

A smile of disdain settled upon Glazzard's lips, but his eyes had
lost their vacancy.