James's Park, ran
him to earth one afternoon at his club, smooth and spruce and
unruffled as ever.
"Tell me, what on earth have you turned Cocksley Coxon into?"
Belturbet asked anxiously, mentioning the name of one of the
pillars of unorthodoxy in the Anglican Church. "I don't fancy he
BELIEVES in angels, and if he finds an angel preaching orthodox
sermons from his pulpit while he's been turned into a fox-terrier,
he'll develop rabies in less than no time."
"I rather think it was a fox-terrier," said the Duke lazily.
Belturbet groaned heavily, and sank into a chair.
"Look here, Eug?ne," he whispered hoarsely, having first looked
well round to see that no one was within hearing range, "you've
got to stop it. Consols are jumping up and down like bronchos,
and that speech of Halfour's in the House last night has simply
startled everybody out of their wits. And then on the top of it,
Thistlebery--"
"What has he been saying?" asked the Duke quickly.
"Nothing. That's just what's so disturbing. Every one thought it
was simply inevitable that he should come out with a great epoch-
making speech at this juncture, and I've just seen on the tape
that he has refused to address any meetings at present, giving as
a reason his opinion that something more than mere speech-making
was wanted.
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