The refuge of a busy man, to judge by the piles of books and papers
which littered the large open writing-table. There were despatch
boxes turned upside down, a sea of parchment and foolscap. In the
midst of it all a man deep in thought.
A visitor, entering with the freedom of an old acquaintance, laid
his hand upon his shoulder and greeted him with an air of suppressed
enthusiasm.
"Planning the campaign, eh, Brott? Or is that a handbook to Court
etiquette? You will need it within the week. There are all sorts
of rumours at the clubs."
Brott shook himself free from his fit of apathetic reflection. He
would not have dared to tell his visitor where his thoughts had
been for the last half hour.
"Somehow," he said, "I do not think that little trip to Windsor
will come just yet. The King will never send for me unless he is
compelled."
His visitor, an ex-Cabinet Minister, a pronounced Radical and a
lifelong friend of Brott's, shrugged his shoulders.
"That time," he said, "is very close at hand. He will send for
Letheringham first, of course, and great pressure will be brought
to bear upon him to form a ministry. But without you he will be
helpless. He has not the confidence of the people."
"Without me," Brott repeated slowly. "You think then that I should
not accept office with Letheringham?"
His visitor regarded him steadily for a moment, open-mouthed,
obviously taken aback.
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