"
Dim rumours of a "row" at Sir Winterton's meeting reached the Bull that
night, brought by Jimmy Benyon, who had been at a minor meeting across
the railway bridge among the railway men. Somebody had brought up an old
scandal, and the candidate's answer had not given satisfaction. The
ladies showed no curiosity; Quisante, very tired, lay on the sofa doing
nothing, neither reading, nor talking, nor sleeping. His eyes were fixed
on the ceiling, he seemed hardly to hear what Jimmy said, and he also
asked no questions. So Jimmy, dismissing the matter from his mind, went
to bed, leaving Quisante still lying there, with wide-open eyes.
There he lay a long while alone; once or twice he frowned, once or twice
he smiled. Was he thinking over the opportunity that offered, and the
instrument that presented itself? What chances might lie in Sir
Winterton's dogged honour and tender sensitiveness on the one hand, and
on the other in that conscience of little Japhet's, stronger now in its
alliance with hurt pride and outraged self-importance! And nobody could
say that Quisante himself had had any part in it; he had spoken to nobody
except Foster, and he had told Foster most plainly that he would have
nothing to do with such a matter.
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