“Are you sure you want to be an MP?” Bess asked. “I remember you saying once that you wanted to be Lord Mayor of London.”
Smith began to pace the room, his head busy with half-a-dozen ideas simultaneously. “It was something Gordon said,” he explained. “If an eccentric like him can be a member of parliament, surely I can too. And then I heard that the old MP for Appleby had died and thought I should try for the seat.”
Bess grunted. “What do you know about politics?”
“Not much,” Smith admitted. “I asked Gordon his advice.” He remembered the conversation, with Lord George Gordon shaking his head.
“I’m damned if I know, Smith,” Gordon said, taking a pinch of snuff and sneezing. “As I told you, my constituency is in my pocket. I didn’t have to fight for it. All I recommend is to wear a stif
