XV. 



THE TURNCOAT 



Three years ago no British statesman held a 

 place in the popular estimation higher than that 

 occupied by my uncle, Sir Theodore Biffin. He 

 was universally beloved and respected in his 

 constituency, and political opponents sought in 

 vain to oust him from a seat which his moral 

 integrity and immense wealth had long com- 

 bined to render immune from successful attack. 



In private life Sir Theodore was one of the 

 kindest of men; in the little parish of Ooseford, 

 where he resided, the village children but rarely 

 flung stones at his motor, and when he read the 

 lessons in church on a Sunday morning the 

 suction of peppermints by the choir would be 

 temporarily suspended, while even the richer 

 occupants of the front pews ceased to sniff. 



Sir Theodore, as will be remembered, served 

 his country faithfully and devotedly in one 

 capacity after another for many years, and until 

 the very close of his career no single word was 

 ever breathed against his personal integrity. 



In his youth every one of the six Army 

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