arises from a wonderful purity of blood no doubt, but nothing hurts me,” said Jericho, “nothing.”

“A common person, Mr. Jericho—now the danger’s past I don’t mind saying it—a common man from such a wound must have had lockjaw.” Here Candituft put his hand before his eyes, to shut out the horror of the picture. Recovering himself, he proceeded, with a gay, playful look—“And lockjaw, Mr. Jericho, would not have served your turn in the House of Commons.”

“My good sir,” answered Jericho, with an air of instruction, “I am not in the House of Commons.”

“Not taken the oaths and seat, certainly, but ’tis good as done. My dear sir, you are reserved for great things: the whole brotherhood of man will one day feel disposed to bless[Pg 86] you. And, my dear sir, permit me to congratulate you on your heroic helpmate, Mrs. Jericho.”

[Pg 86]

“She’s a—a fine woman,” said Jericho: he could say no less.

“A woman of far-seeing ambition. She already beholds you on the top of the tree, sir; on the top of the tree,” and Candituft shook Jericho’s hand till he shook him into smiles.

“Why, sir, I am not backward—goodness forbid!—not backward to acknowledge the responsibility. Money is the support of the world: the pillar of the social edifice. Without money, man is little above the brute.”

“A great political truth,” cried the astonished Candituft, “a very great political truth.”

“Let us look through the animal world, Mr. Candituft. What makes the elephant powerful?—his trunk and tusks. What makes the lion dangerous?—his teeth and claws. And, what tusks and teeth are to the lower creatures, money is to man. Is it not so?” asked Jericho, confidently.

Candituft suddenly folded his arms, and looking downward, as though speaking to the carpet, said very vehemently—“It is.”

“I think,” continued Jericho, “I think it is the great Lord Bacon who somewhere observes—‘Knowledge, turned into ready money, is power.’ I am of his lordship’s opinion.”

“Of course, Mr. Jericho. It was to be expected of you. And now, my dear, dear sir, to business. Mrs. Jericho informed me, at Jogtrot Lodge, that you burn to get into Parliament. You are right. That is your sphere.”

“I don’t think I could make a speech—don’t think 

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