Momentarily, Howden experienced a sense of anger at having to consider trivia when – particularly now – bigger and vital issues demanded so much of his mind. Then he reflected that the need to mix homely things with great affairs had always been a politician's lot. Often it was a key to power -never to lose sight of small events amid the big. And immigration was a subject which always disturbed him. It had so many facets, hedged around with political pitfalls as well as advantages. The difficult thing was to be certain which were which.

Canada was still a promised land for many, and likely to remain so; therefore any Government must handle its population inlet valves with extreme caution. Too many immigrants from one source, too few from another, could be sufficient to change the balance of power within a generation. In a way, the Prime Minister thought, we have our own apartheid policy, though fortunately the barriers of race and colour are set up discreetly and put into effect beyond our borders, in Canadian embassies and consulates overseas. And definite as they are, at home we can pretend they do not exist.

Some people in the country, he knew, wanted more immigration, others less. The 'more' group included idealists who would fling the doors wide open to all comers, and employers, who favoured a bigger labour force. Opposition to immigration usually came from labour unions, given to crying 'unemployment' each time immigration was discussed, and failing to recognize that unemployment, in some degree at least, was a necessary economic fact of life. On this side also were the Anglo-Saxon and Protestant segments – in surprising numbers – who objected to 'too many-foreigners', particularly if the immigrants happened to be Catholic. Often it was necessary for the Government to walk a tightrope to avoid alienating one side or the other.

He decided this was a moment to be blunt. 'Your department has been getting a bad press, Harvey, and I think a good deal of it is your own fault. I want you to take a tighter hold of things and stop letting your officials have so much of their own way. Replace a few if you have to, even the top; we can't fire civil servants but we've plenty of shelves to put them on. And for God's sake keep those controversial immigration cases out of the papers! The one last month, for example – the woman and child.'

'That woman had been running a brothel in Hong Kong,' Harvey Warrender said. 'And she had VD.'

'Perhaps that isn't a good example. But there've been plenty of others, and when these sensitive cases come up you make the Government look like some heartless ogre, which harms us all.'

The Prime Minister had spoken quietly but intensely, his strong eyes riveting the other man.

'Obviously,' Warrender said, 'my question is answered. Praise is not the order of the day.'

James Howden said sharply, 'It isn't a question of praise or blame. It's a matter of good political judgement.'

'And your political judgement has always been better than mine, Jim. Isn't that so?' Warrender's eyes squinted upward. 'Otherwise I might be leader of the party instead of you.'

Howden made no reply. The liquor in the other man was obviously taking hold. Now Warrender said, 'What my officials are doing is administering the law as it stands. I happen to think they're performing a good job. If you don't like it, why don't we get together and amend the Immigration Act?'

He had made a mistake, the Prime Minister decided, in choosing this time and place to talk. Seeking to end the conversation, he said, 'We can't do that. There's too much else in our legislative programme.'

'Balls!'

It was like a whipcrack in the room. There was a second's silence. Heads turned. The Prime Minister saw the Governor General glance in their direction. Then conversation resumed, but Howden could sense that others were listening.

'You're afraid of immigration,' Warrender said. 'We're all afraid – the way every other Government has been. That's why we won't admit a few things honestly, even among ourselves.'

Stuart Cawston, who had finished his conjuring tricks a moment or two earlier, strolled with seeming casualness to join them. 'Harvey,' the Finance Minister said cheerfully, 'you're making an ass of yourself.'

'Take care of him, Stu,' the Prime Minister said. He could feel his anger growing; if he continued to handle this himself there was a danger he would lose his temper, always volatile, which could only make the situation worse. Moving away, he joined Margaret and another group.

But he could still hear Warrender, this time addressing Cawston.

'When it comes to immigration I tell you we Canadians are a bunch of hypocrites. Our immigration policy – the policy that I administer, my friends – has to say one thing and mean another.'

'Tell me later,' Stuart Cawston said. He was still trying to smile, but barely succeeding.

'I'll tell you now!' Harvey Warrender had gripped the Finance Minister's arm firmly. 'There are two things this country needs if it's to go on expanding and everybody in this room knows it. One is a good big pool of unemployed for industry to draw on, and the other is a continued Anglo-Saxon majority. But do we ever admit it in public? No!'

The Minister of Citizenship and Immigration paused, glared around him, then ploughed on. 'Both those things need carefully balanced immigration. We have to let immigrants come in, because when industry expands the manpower should be ready and waiting – not next week, or next month, or next year, but at the moment the factories need it. But open the gates of immigration too wide or too often, or both, and what happens? The population goes-out of balance. And it wouldn't take too many generations of those kind of mistakes before you'd have the House of Commons debating in Italian and a Chinaman running Government House.'

This time there were several comments of disapproval from the other guests to whom Warrender's voice had become increasingly audible. Moreover the Governor General had quite plainly heard the last remark and the Prime Minister saw him beckon an aide. Harvey Warrender's wife, a pale, fragile woman, had moved uncertainly towards her husband and taken his arm. But he ignored her.

Dr Borden Tayne, the Health and Welfare Minister and a former college boxing champion who towered above them all, said in a stage whisper, 'For Christ's sake, knock it off!' He had joined Cawston at Warrender's side. A voice murmured urgently, 'Get him out of here!' Another answered, 'He can't go. Nobody can leave until the Governor General does.' Unabashed, Harvey Warrender was continuing. 'When you're talking about immigration,' he declared loudly, 'I tell you the public wants sentiment, not facts. Facts are uncomfortable. People like to think of their country as holding the door open for the poor and suffering. It makes them feel noble. Only thing is, they'd just as soon the poor and suffering keep well out of sight when they get here, and not track lice in the suburbs or muddy up the prissy new churches. No siree, the public in this country doesn't want wide-open immigration. What's more, it knows the Government will never allow it, so there's no real risk in hollering for it. That way, everybody can be righteous and safe at the same time.'. In a separate compartment of his mind the Prime Minister acknowledged that everything Harvey had said made sound sense but impractical politics.

'What started all this?' one of the women asked.

Harvey Warrender heard the remark and answered. 'It started because I was told to change the way I'm running my department. But I'd remind you I'm enforcing the Immigration Act – the law.' He looked at the phalanx of male figures around him. 'And I'll go on enforcing the law until you bastards agree to change it.'

Somebody said, 'Perhaps you won't have a department tomorrow, chum.'