"It was an atrocious fog, as black as this, but more
universal. I remember it well. It was the night Lexington
made his great sugar speech. Some of us were found on Lambeth
Bridge at three in the morning, having left the House at
twelve."

Chilcote seldom indulged in reminiscences, but this
conversation with an unseen companion was more like a
soliloquy than a dialogue. He was almost surprised into an
exclamation when the other caught up his words.

"Ah! The sugar speech!" he said. "Odd that I should have
been looking it up only yesterday. What a magnificent
dressing-up of a dry subject it was! What a career Lexington
promised in those days!"

Chilcote changed his position.

"You are interested in the muddle down at Westminster?" he
asked, sarcastically.

"I--?" It was the turn of the stranger to draw back a step.
"Oh, I read my newspaper with the other five million, that is
all. I am an outsider." His voice sounded curt; the warmth
that admiration had brought into it a moment before had frozen
abruptly.

"An outsider!" Chilcote repeated. "What an enviable word!"

"Possibly, to those who are well inside the ring. But let us