and Ermine arrived, and took up their
quarters at Mr. Snarlington's villa. Bill
Manacles having been installed as a resident,
was taking his supper, quietly and thankfully,
in the kitchen.

Over the wine, in his snug dining-room,
Mr. Snarlington opened the business of the
night.

"The person I have selected to be returned
in my place for the borough of Fogmoor is
one Bill Manacles—a ticket-of-leave man."

Mr. Ermine, with a little more difficulty
than usual, preserved his accustomed
composure; but Mr. Alabaster grew livid, and
spilled his port.

"A—a—ticket-of-leave man?" inquired
Mr. Alabaster, in a tremulous voice.

Mr. Ermine was making some pencil
calculations upon a small slip of paper, and said
nothing.

"Exactly so," returned Mr. Snarlington.

"It is now upwards of fifty years," began
Mr. Alabaster, in reply, becoming gradually
more composed, "since I began my
professional career; and, during all that time——"

"Can we see the man?" asked Mr. Ermine,
interrupting his retrospective partner.

Mr. Snarlington rang a bell; and, in a few
seconds, the proposed member for Fogmoor
stood in the doorway.

"Bill," said his patron, "take a chair."

Bill did as he was requested. He looked
cleaner than he did the day before; but he
was still rough and grizzly.

"And this is the man," said Mr. Alabaster,
addressing Mr. Snarlington, "who is to have
the honour of representing Fogmoor?"

"I doant know much about the 'onour,
measter, either," struck in Bill Manacles,
annoyed at Mr. Alabaster's tone. "Fogmoor
be a dirty place at best o' times."

"Do you wish to ask him any question?"
inquired Mr. Snarlington.

Mr. Ermine said, "No;" while Mr.
Alabaster muttered, reflectively,
"A ticket-of-leave man!"

"Bill," said Mr. Snarlington to the
proposed member, "you can go!"

When he had left the room, Mr. Snarlington
turned to the two partners, and took up the
conversation by saying in a manner unusually
lively for him:

"Bill Manacles and Fogmoor, gentlemen!
Will you favour me with the price?"

"Mr. Snarlington," said Mr. Ermine, "this
will be a task requiring uncommon tact and
perseverance."

"Mr. Ermine," said Mr. Snarlington,
"you know that an orang-outang may be
returned for Fogmoor at a certain price."

"Mr. Snarlington," said Mr. Alabaster,
"since the notorious case of the prize-fighter,
who was elected for the town of Bumpsley-in-
the-Mud, in eighteen hundred and——"

"Mr. Alabaster," said Mr. Snarlington, "I
do not wish to press for your terms until the
morning. Good night!"

Saying which, Mr. Snarlington left his
guests, and went to bed.

The next morning at breakfast Mr. Ermine
alone met Mr. Snarlington. Mr. Alabaster
had returned to town.

"Sir," said Mr. Ermine," we have arranged
that I shall undertake this election individually,
as a matter of policy on the part of the
firm. This case may attain a disagreeable
notoriety—though I do not anticipate that it
will—and it is better that only one of our
firm should be engaged in it. My price,
sir, to guarantee the election of Mr. William
Manacles—that, I believe, is his name?—
will be twenty thousand pounds. Fifteen
thousand down."

"Sir," said Mr. Snarlington, "in the present
state of political morality, any notoriety you
may obtain from this case will only add to
the extent and profits of your business. You
shall have your price."

Saying which, Mr. Snarlington drew a
cheque for fifteen thousand pounds, and the
election of Bill—or, as he was now called,
Mr. William—Manacles, was considered to be
a settled thing.

Sir Tomahawk Sternhold, seeing no signs
of an opponent, on the surface, for nearly ten
days, began to lull himself with a false idea
of security. This was one of his weaknesses—
—a natural tendency to indolence. He
suffered also from over-confidence and a
desire to retain some portion of the funds
entrusted to him to manage the election.

The Woolsack Club were not, by any
means, liberal with their money when it had
to come out of the pockets of the members
for the support of the party they represented.
If it was the national finances, then no one
had reason to complain of a pinching and an
unwise economy. But Fogmoor was not a
dockyard station, or a government depôt.
Fogmoor, to be won for the Woolsack Club,
must be won with money of the Woolsack
Party. The sum therefore placed at Sir
Tomahawk Sternhold's disposal was no more
than the average price of the Fogmoor voters
during the last fifty elections. Bearing in
mind Sir Tomahawk's last failure, the Woolsack
Club had not trusted him entirely with
the management of the business, but had
secured the services of an electioneering
agent, named Weasel. Mr. Weasel was a
clever enough man in his way, and a cheap
man; but, no more to compare with Mr.
Ermine, as he himself well knew, than a
government can compare with an individual
like Mr. Snarlington in securing an election
like that for Fogmoor.

So matters went on for nearly ten days.
At the end of that time, when the inhabitants
of Fogmoor arose one morning, they
observed the walls in and about the town
placarded with the following bill: "Vote for
William Manacles, the Man of the People!"

The population of the town and borough
were rather astonished at these bills: but