“I’ll follow what Crook planned out for the handbills. There are a few words I wrote down after you came and asked me to run.”

“Good, good,” said Hilary.

“Is anything the matter? You seem nervous.”

“Well, Lenox, I’m afraid I have to return to London this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

“There are committee meetings to be attended, and… that sort of thing.”

“But you knew your schedule when you came up.”

Hilary sat down and sighed. “I’m sorry to say it, old chap, but Roodle looks awfully strong here. I got a telegram requesting that I return, in response to my telegram sending them the numbers Crook had worked up of past votes. It’s the time, you see-because Stoke died we don’t have enough time.”

Lenox felt at a conversational disadvantage, lying in bed, and his heart plummeted. “How does Roodle look strong?”

“He’s spending as much money as you’ll be able to, which frankly we didn’t expect. He has a much higher name recognition-and, though it’s not your fault, and though people here feel respectful of old Stoke, they’re ready for a change.”

“How poor do you think my chances are?”

“If you fight hard, you might get within a few hundred votes of him. Then-who knows?”

“But the chances aren’t good enough for you to stay?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Hilary with a guilty look. “You know we’re friends, and in the SPQR club together, Lenox, but damn it-politics is a ruthless game, and we have to follow the momentum.”

“I see.”

Hilary looked pained. “If it were simply up to me, I would have stayed till the bitter end. You know the respect I entertain for you, Lenox.”

“Well,” said Lenox, unsure of what to say.

Hilary stood up. “I’ll be downstairs. Come,” he said encouragingly, “let’s give a fight. This morning will be a good start.”

Lenox sat in his bed and listened to the footfalls as Hilary walked downstairs. Uncertainty, suddenly, where all had seemed promising. Lady Jane’s letter was still in his hand.