The first thing Mr. Cato did, when he had settled his guest comfortably
at home in Hampstead, under the kindly care of his two sisters, was to
go and call on Lord Griffinhoofe, his immediate political leader.
Mr. Cato’s party was divided at this time into many sections. An
official leader had at one time been appointed, but in the confusion
of politics the party had lost the papers and forgotten his name. The
leadership was now divided among a number of eminent men, of whom Lord
Griffinhoofe, ex-Cabinet Minister and member of one of the oldest
and richest families in England, was not the least. It was generally
understood that he would get an important portfolio when a Liberal
Government should be formed, and the urbanity of his manner was held to
fit him peculiarly for the Foreign Office.
London was out of town when Mr. Cato arrived. The Session was over; but
Lord Griffinhoofe was known to have come back on business for a few
weeks to his house in Piccadilly. Mr. Cato found the blinds down, and a
charwoman washing the steps. He walked in unannounced and entered the
well-known reception-room on the ground floor, disguised at present
with a furniture of linen bags, enfolding monstrous shapes of large
ornaments. Here he found a flushed female, with a bonnet on the side
of her head, sitting on one of the long row of leather chairs. She
smiled and wagged her feathers and roses at him pleasantly, assuring
him that ‘the good gentleman’ would be ‘out in a jiffy.’ Mr. Cato
seated himself modestly in a dark corner and waited.
After a little while the inner door opened, and Lord Griffinhoofe
himself appeared--a large stout man, with peering short-sighted eyes.
He smiled and nodded when he found himself confronted by a curtseying
female. Then he cleared his throat, looked in three pockets for his
eye-glasses, wiped them, and examined the dirty scrap of paper which he
held in his hand.
‘Mrs. Waggs?’ he said.
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the smiling woman in the bonnet; ‘that’s my name,
sir, after my dear ’usband who went to the bad.’
‘Well, and what can I do for you?’
‘Mrs. Waggs, my lord, that’s my name. I’ve come to be cook, ’earin’ as
you was in want of a temp’ry from my good friend Mrs. ’Amilton, who
washes the steps, pore thing, of a Saturday when the other lidy ’as to
be at ’ome.’
Lord Griffinhoofe examined the paper very carefully, and cleared his
throat again.
‘H’m! It’s very awkward. My wife’s away. I hardly know what to do.
You’re a cook, you say?’
‘Mrs. Waggs, my lord. Good plain or fancy with the best of character’s,
though short, bein’ a temp’ry.’
‘Can you ... can you dust things, Mrs. Waggs?’
‘Dust? Me dust? No thank you, my lord, not if I know it. Thank ’Eaven,
I ’aven’t come down to a duster quite as yet. O no, thank you! Mrs.
Waggs, plain or fancy, on the usual terms, but no dustin’, thank you!
I’m not an ’ousemaid.’
‘It’s very awkward. So you want to be cook. Can you make pastry?’
‘Anythink in reason, my lord. One doesn’t ask too much of a pore woman
with two children and an ’usband in trouble. Pastry is not my fort, nor
’ave I been accustomed to families where pastry was eaten on a large
scale.’
‘Well, well. It’s very awkward. The fact is that I _have_ a cook
already.’
‘And well you may, my lord, you that might ’ave dozens for the askin’.’
Mrs. Waggs burst into tears. ‘But it’s ’ard on a pore woman that’s
trudged miles an’ miles without a drop o’ drink to look for a job, to
be told the place is bespoke.’
‘There, there, don’t cry, Mrs. Waggs. I can’t turn my cook out to make
a place for you, can I?’
‘An’ my pore ’usband in trouble, ’im that never did an ’ard day’s work
in ’is life before.’
Clouds veiled the serenity of Lord Griffinhoofe’s countenance for a
little while, then he passed his hand over his face and emerged with a
bright idea.
‘How would it be if you saw the cook and had it out with _her_?’
Mrs. Waggs, paying no direct attention to this proposal, nor to the
next proposal to come back in a few days and see what could be done
then, but continuing merely to repeat her name and claims, Lord
Griffinhoofe finally decided that the best thing he could do was to
ring the bell and consult the housekeeper. A lean woman in black
presented herself, glanced quickly round, and listened with sour
submission while Lord Griffinhoofe explained the situation and its
difficulties.
‘Shall I deal with the woman, my lord?’
‘I shall be extremely grateful, Mrs. Porter. I hardly know what to do
myself.’
Three short steps brought the housekeeper in front of Mrs. Waggs.
‘Now then, out you go! March!’
Mrs. Waggs quailed and rose obediently.
‘Comin’ here in such a state--the idea!’
The housekeeper shut the front-door behind the visitor, and returned
demurely the way she had come.
‘Thank you, Mrs. Porter,’ said Lord Griffinhoofe, with a nervous smile:
‘I thought you would know what was the right thing.... And what can
I do for you, Madam?’ he inquired, stumbling on Mr. Cato. ‘What, Mr.
Cato! So you’re back. How stupid of them to keep you waiting in here.
Come along! Come along!’
He led him into his study beyond.
‘So you’ve come back for the great fight. It’s a secret--I had a wire
this morning--you mustn’t tell anyone; we’re within measurable distance
of a General Election.’
‘Yes; I saw it in the “Westminster” last night.’
‘Really! How _do_ these papers find out? It came on me quite as a
surprise. I’ve been promised--practically promised the--h’m! h’m! It’s
a dead secret, mind; you mustn’t let it out.’
‘Why, the “Westminster”....’
‘They had that in too?’
‘No; in fact they mentioned Lord Rosebery.’
‘Bosh!’
‘Only guesswork, of course,’ added Mr. Cato hastily, seeing an uneasy
flush on Lord Griffinhoofe’s face. ‘Quite impracticable! Not a man we
could work with.’
‘A mere talker!’
‘With the Eastern Question looming....’
‘A man who can’t say No!’
‘Russia needs a firm hand....’
‘Rosebery’s no more capable of managing Russia than I am of managing a
... well, a ... well.... And what was it you came to see me about, Mr.
Cato?’
Mr. Cato entered with great detail into all the facts of Prince Dwala’s
case. The great man rubbed his fat knees and assumed a sagacious look;
his breath came very short, and suddenly he looked as if he were going
to cry.
‘Wait a moment, Mr. Cato. If I had a bit of pencil, I should like to
put your facts down, so as to get a clear idea. In what year do you say
he was born?’
‘I haven’t a notion. These facts aren’t important enough to make a note
of.’
‘Then you oughtn’t to tell me them. It only confuses.’
‘The important thing is: how far will the Party help him?’
‘We shall want a pencil for that. It’s such a nuisance my secretary
being away. He always has a pencil. He takes his holiday now. Couldn’t
we put it off till Parliament assembles?’
‘The matter is urgent.’
‘Everything seems so urgent nowadays,’ Lord Griffinhoofe smiled sadly,
as if remembering better days.
‘We must secure the best lawyers at once.’
‘Oh, it’s a law case! I see.’
‘Yes, I’ve told you so already; an appeal to the Privy Council.
Colonial appeals go before the Privy Council.’
‘I remember. That’ll be the Judicial Committee, no doubt. Well, can’t
_they_ settle it?’
‘That isn’t the point. It’s a most difficult question of law, and
everything depends on how the question is argued. We must get the very
best counsel we can. The expenses are enormous.’
‘Can’t the ... er ... the what’s his name manage it?’
‘Prince Dwala? We have no right to ask it of him. His fortune is very
small, for a Prince; and I look upon the British nation and the Liberal
Party as trustees to see that he gets it intact. I myself have already
incurred very heavy expenses.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t spend your own money.’
‘That’s just it; I want the Party to help with their funds.’
‘Well, well; if the cause is a good one. We might wait a few months,
and see what people think.’
‘But the case will be over.’
‘One can’t help that. We mustn’t rush things.’
Nothing could budge the great man from his attitude of caution and
delay. It was evident that, in the absence of his secretary with the
pencil, he conceived only the vaguest idea of the question in hand. Mr.
Cato went home at last, expressing the heroic resolution to fight the
case on his own money, even if it ruined him.