debate. He fought with skill, but he fought without gloves, and the
House needed gentle handling. He had the gift of effective speech to a
rare degree, and when he liked he could be insinuating and witty, but he
had not genuine humour or good feeling, and the House knew it. In debate
he was biting, resourceful, and unscrupulous. He made the fatal mistake
of thinking that intellect and gifts of fence, followed by a brilliant
peroration, in which he treated the commonplaces of experienced minds as
though they were new discoveries and he was their Columbus, could
accomplish anything. He had never had a political crisis, but one had
come now.

In his reply he first resorted to arguments of high politics, historical,
informative, and, in a sense, commanding; indeed, the House became
restless under what seemed a piece of intellectual dragooning. Signs of
impatience appeared on his own side, and, when he ventured on a solemn
warning about hampering ministers who alone knew the difficulties of
diplomacy and the danger of wounding the susceptibilities of foreign
and friendly countries, the silence was broken by a voice that said
sneeringly, "The kid-glove Government!"

Then he began to lose place with the Chamber. He was conscious of it,
and shifted his ground, pointing out the dangers of doing what the other
nations interested in Egypt were not prepared to do.

"Have you asked them? Have you pressed them?" was shouted across
the House. Eglington ignored the interjections. "Answer! Answer!"
was called out angrily, but he shrugged a shoulder and continued his
argument. If a man insisted on using a flying-machine before the
principle was fully mastered and applied--if it could be mastered and
applied--it must not be surprising if he was killed. Amateurs sometimes