The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [74]
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “If I did I would be the first to go to him and tell him. But it isn’t only finding the solution.” He bit into his deviled kidneys and savored them with pleasure. He waited till he had swallowed the first mouthful before he continued. “It’s finding the solution that society wants,” he finished.
“Which is what? Some lunatic escaped from Bedlam that we can all disown, and say it has nothing to do with us?” she retorted, stirring the compote viciously. “If it isn’t, then we can hardly blame Thomas.”
“Emily, my dearest, people have blamed the messenger for the contents of the message as long as history has been recorded. Of course they can—and they will.”
“That’s childish.” She swallowed a mouthful and it went the wrong way. She nearly choked before recovering enough to glare at him.
“Of course it is,” he agreed, pouring her a cup of tea and passing it. “What has that to do with it? You don’t have to be in politics long to know that an awful lot of people’s reactions can be childish, and we usually cater to the very worst of those once we begin trying to beat each other.”
“What are you going to say against Uttley? You’ve got to say something. You can’t let him get away with this.”
“I don’t think Thomas will thank me for defending him—” he began.
“Not Thomas,” she interrupted. “You! You can’t sit here and let Uttley bring the battle to you. You’ve got to attack.”
He thought for several moments, and she waited with difficulty, eating the rest of her compote without tasting it.
“There is no point whatever in talking figures to people,” he said thoughtfully, setting down his fork as his meal was finished. “It has no emotion.”
“Don’t defend,” she argued. “You can’t defend effectively anyway. All the criminals caught don’t amount to anything compared with the ones that are still at large—not in people’s minds.” She swallowed. “Anyway, it’s bad to look defensive. It isn’t your fault that the police are inefficient. And don’t let him push you into a position where people imagine it is.” She reached for the silver teapot. “Would you care for some more?”
He pushed forward his cup and she poured for him.
“Attack him,” she went on. “What are his weaknesses?”
“Fiscal affairs, the national economy …”
“That won’t do.” She dismissed it out of hand. “It’s boring, and people don’t understand it anyway. You can hardly talk about shillings and pence on the hustings. People won’t listen.”
“I know that,” he agreed with a smile. “But you asked me what his weaknesses were.”
“Why don’t you do what Charlotte did?” she suggested at length. “Pretend to be naive and ask him to explain himself. You know he can’t abide people laughing at him.”
“That’s very dangerous—”
“So is his present attack on the police, and through them on you. What do you have to lose?”
He looked at her thoughtfully for several moments, then slowly his face relaxed and his eyes lit with enthusiasm.
“Don’t blame me if it explodes in my face,” he warned.
“Of course I shan’t. But let’s go down with a real battle.” She leaned forward and caught hold of his hand where it lay on the table. “Let’s go in with all flags flying and all guns firing.”
“I may have to retire to the country afterwards.”
“Afterwards, perhaps,” she conceded. “But not before.”
Jack contrived the opportunity the next day. Uttley was addressing a considerable crowd at Hyde Park Corner and Jack sauntered up, Emily on his arm. People were drawing closer from all directions, many with pies, sandwiches or peppermint drinks in their hands. The Punch and Judy man abandoned his stall, knowing the real drama was more fun any day. A nursemaid with a perambulator slowed her step and a newsboy and an urchin sweeping the crossing both ceased their shouting and listened.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Uttley began, although the address to ladies was purely a courtesy. No women could vote, so their opinion was superfluous. “Ladies and gentlemen! We are at a crossroads in the life of our great city. It is up to you to decide which way you wish to go. Do you