A Prince of Sinners
E. Phillips Oppenheim
BOOK 1
CHAPTER 8 KINGSTON BROOKS MAKES INQUIRIES

At luncheon Brooks found himself between Sybil Caroom and Mr. Hennibul.
She began to talk to him at once.
"I want to know all about your candidate, Mr. Brooks," she declared. "You can't
imagine how pleased I am to have you here. I have had the feeling ever since I
came of being shut up in a hostile camp. I am a Radical, you know, and these
good people, even my mother, are rabid Conservatives."
Brooks smiled as he unfolded his serviette.
"Well, Henslow isn't exactly an ornamental candidate," he said, "but he is
particularly sound and a man with any amount of common-sense. You should
come and hear him speak."
"I'd love to," she answered, "but no one would bring me from here. They are all
hopeless. Mr. Molyneux there is going to support Mr. Rochester. If I wasn't sure
that he'd do more harm than good, I wouldn't let him go. But I don't suppose
they'll let you speak, Sydney," she added. "They won't if they've ever heard
you."
Molyneux smiled an imperturbable smile.
"Personally," he said, "I should prefer to lend my moral support only, but my
fame as an orator is too well known. There is not the least chance that they will
let me off."
Sybil looked at Brooks.
"Did you ever hear such conceit?" she remarked, in a pitying tone. "And I don't
believe he's ever opened his mouth in the House, except to shout 'Hear, hear'!
Besides, he's as nervous as a kitten. Tell me, are you going to return Mr.

"I shall always be at your service," Lord Arranmore answered.
"And I cannot go," Brooks continued, "without thanking you "
"We will take that for granted," Arranmore interrupted. "You know the spirit in
which I gave it. It is not, I fear, one of sympathy, but it may at any rate save me
from having my carriage windows broken one dark night. By the bye, I have
ordered a brougham for you in half-an-hour. As you see, it is raining. Your
bicycle shall be sent in to-morrow."
"It is very kind of you indeed," Brooks declared.
"Molyneux has to go in, so you may just as well drive together," Arranmore
remarked. "By the bye, do you shoot?"
"A little," Brooks admitted.
"You must have a day with us. My head keeper is coming up this afternoon, and
I will try and arrange something. The election is next week, of course. We must
plan a day after then."
"I am afraid that my performance would scarcely be up to your standard,"
Brooks said, "although it is very kind of you to ask me. I might come and look
on."
Arranmore laughed.
"Hennibul is all right," he said, "but Molyneux is a shocking duffer. We'll give
you an easy place. We have some early callers, I see."
The butler was moving towards them, followed by two men in hunting-clothes.
"Sir George Marson and Mr. Lacroix, your lordship," he announced.
For a second Arranmore stood motionless. His eyes seemed to pass through the
man in pink, who was approaching with outstretched hand, and to be fastened
upon the face of his companion. It chanced that Brooks, who had stepped a little
on one side, was watching his host, and for the second time in one day he saw
things which amazed him. His expression seemed frozen on to his face
something underneath seemed struggling for expression. In a second it had all
passed away. Brooks could almost have persuaded himself that it was fancy.
"Come for something to eat, Arranmore," Sir George declared, hungrily. "My

bit staggered."
"It was enough to surprise him," Brooks answered. "From Lake Ono to
Medchester is a long way."
Molyneux nodded.
"By Jove, it is," he affirmed. "Queer stick our host. Close as wax. I've known
him ever since he dropped in for the title and estates, and I've never yet heard
him open his mouth on the subject of his travels."
"Was he away from England for very long?" Brooks asked.
"No one knows where he was," Molyneux replied. "Twenty years ago he was
reading for the Bar in London, and he suddenly disappeared. Well, I have never
met a soul except Lacroix to-day who has seen anything of him in the interval
between his disappearance and his coming to claim the estates. That means that
for pretty well half a lifetime he passed completely out of the world. Poor
beggar! I fancy that he was hard up, for one thing." To Brooks the subject was
fascinating, but he had an idea that it was scarcely the best of form to be
discussing their late host with a man who was comparatively a stranger to him.
So he remained silent, and Molyneux, with a yawn, abandoned the subject.
"Where does Rochester hang out, do you know?" he asked Brooks. "I don't
suppose for a moment I shall be able to find him."
"His headquarters are at the Bell Hotel," Brooks replied. "You will easily be
able to come across him, for he has a series of ward meetings to-night. I am
sorry that we are to be opponents."
"We shan't quarrel about that," Molyneux answered. "Here we are, at
Medchester, then. Better let him put you down, and then he can go on with me.
You're coming out to shoot at Enton, aren't you?"
"Lord Arranmore was good enough to ask me," Brooks answered, dubiously,
"but I scarcely know whether I ought to accept. I am such a wretched shot."
Molyneux laughed.
"Well, I couldn't hit a haystack," he said, "so you needn't mind that. Besides,
Arranmore isn't keen about his bag, like some chaps. Are these your offices?