Class 11 English 2024 Edition www.tntextbooks.in · Section 65

held for the Government in the present Parliament by a gentleman who did not intend to seek re-election, and Sletherby was under serious consideration by the party managers as his possible successor, and with luck, the seat might be held. The Saltpen-Jago influence was not an item which could be left out of consideration, and the political aspirant had been delighted at meeting Honoria at a small and friendly luncheon-party, still more gratified when she had asked him down to her country house for the following Friday-to-Tuesday. He was obviously ‘on approval’, and if he could secure the goodwill of his hostess he might count on her nominating him as an assured thing. If he failed to find favour in her eyes — well, the local leaders would probably cool off in their embryo enthusiasm for him. Among the passengers dotted about on the platform, awaiting their respective trains, Sletherby espied a club acquaintance, and called him up to the carriage-window for a chat. “Oh, you’re staying with Mrs. Saltpen-Jago for the week-end, are you? I expect you’ll have a good time; she has the reputation of being an excellent hostess. She’ll be useful to you, too, if that Parliamentary project — hullo, you’re off. Good-bye.” Sletherby waved good-bye to his friend, pulled up the window, and turned his attention to the magazine lying on his lap. He had scarcely glanced at a couple of pages, however, when a smothered curse caused him to glance hastily at the only other occupant of the carriage. His travelling companion was a young man of about two-and-twenty, with dark hair, fresh complexion, and the blend of smartness and disarray that marks the costume of a ‘nut’ who is bound on a rustic holiday. He was engaged in searching furiously and ineffectually for some elusive or non-existent object; from time to time he dug a sixpenny bit out of a waistcoat pocket and stared at it ruefully, then recommenced the futile searching operations. A cigarette-case, matchbox, latchkey, silver pencil case, and railway ticket were turned out on to the seat beside him, but none of these articles seemed to afford him satisfaction; he cursed again, rather louder than before. The vigorous pantomime did not draw forth any remark from Sletherby, who resumed his scrutiny of the magazine. “I say!” exclaimed a young voice presently, “didn’t I hear you say you were going down to stay with Mrs. Saltpen-Jago at Brill Manor? What a coincidence! My *mater, you know. I’m coming on there on Monday evening, so we shall meet. I’m quite a stranger; haven’t seen the mater for six months at least. I was away yachting last time she was in Town. I’m Bertie, the second son, you know. I say, it’s an awfully lucky coincidence that I should run across someone who knows the mater just at this particular moment. I’ve done a damned awkward thing.” -C-SR-A Shot In The - - :