'I know.' Harvey Warrender seemed a little flushed. 'But I'm thinking of my old age. They don't pay college professors a fortune, and I've never saved any money in politics.'

'If it were traced back…'

'It won't be traceable,' Harvey said. 'I'll see to that. My name won't appear anywhere. They can suspect all they want, but it won't be traceable.'

Howden shook his head in doubt. Outside there was another burst of noise – catcalls now, and some ironic singing.

'I'll make you a promise, Jim,' Harvey Warrender said. 'H I go down – for this or anything else – I'll take the blame alone and I won't involve you. But if you fire me, or fail to support me on an honest issue, I'll take you too.'

'You couldn't prove…'

'I want it in writing,' Harvey said. He gestured towards the hall. 'Before we go out there. Otherwise we'll let it go to a vote.'

It would be a close thing. They both knew it. James How-den envisaged the cup he had coveted slipping away.

'I'll do it,' he said. 'Give me something to write on.'

Harvey had passed him a convention programme and he had scribbled the words on the back – words which would destroy him utterly if they were ever used.

'Don't worry,' Harvey said, pocketing the card. 'It will be safe. And when we're both out of politics I'll give it back to you.'

They had gone outside then – Harvey Warrender to make a speech renouncing the leadership – one of the finest of his political life – and James Howden to be elected, cheered, and chaired through the hall…

The bargain struck had been kept on both sides even though, over the years, as James Howden's prestige had risen, Harvey Warrender's had steadily declined. Nowadays it was hard to remember that Warrender had once been a serious contender for the party leadership; certainly he was nowhere in line of succession now. But that sort of thing happened so often in politics; once a man was eclipsed in a contest for power, his stature, it seemed, grew less as time went on.