As I leant over him and began to loosen his collar, I heard the Conservative agent say in strident tones:-- "There is some mistake, there must be some mistake.

It is almost impossible that Dr.Therne can have polled twenty-nine votes in succession.

On behalf of Sir Thomas Colford, I demand a recount." "Certainly," answered some official, "let it be begun at once." In that ceremony I took no part; indeed, I spent the next two hours, with the help of another doctor, trying to restore consciousness to Stephen Strong in a little room that opened off the town-hall.

Within half an hour Mrs.Strong arrived.
"He still breathes," I said in answer to her questioning glance.
Then the poor little woman sat herself down upon the edge of a chair, clasped her hands and said, "If the Lord wills it, dear Stephen will live; and if the Lord wills it, he will die." This sentence she repeated at intervals until the end came.

After two hours there was a knocking at the door.
"Go away," I said, but the knocker would not go away.