You say he knows the place," and he jerked his head to indicate that East to which his thoughts were ever turning.

"Some time in the next two years there will be the devil's own mess in that happy land.

Then your troubles will begin, my friend, and I can wish nothing better for you than the support of some man in the Commons who knows that Bardur is not quite so pastoral as Hampshire.

He may relieve you of some of the popular odium you are courting, and at the worst he can be sent out." Wratislaw whistled long and low.

"I think not," he said.