eyes. I am a good German. I know what it is that we want. We want peace,
and to gain peace we need strength, and to be strong we arm. That is
everything. It will never be Germany who clenches her fist, who draws
down the black clouds of war over Europe. It will never be Germany, I
tell you. Why, a war would ruin half of us. What of my crockery? I sell
it all in England. Believe me, young gentleman, war exists only in the
brains of your sensational novelists. It does not come into the world of
real purpose."

"Well, it's very interesting to hear you say so," Norgate admitted. "I
wish I could wholly agree with you."

Herr Selingman caught him by the sleeve.

"You are just a little," he confided, "just a little suspicious, my young
friend, you in your little island. Perhaps it is because you live upon an
island. You do not expand. You have small thoughts. You are not great
like we in Germany, not broad, not deep. But we will talk later of these
things. I must tell you about our Kaiser."

Norgate opened his lips and closed them again.

"Presently," he muttered. "See you later on."

He strolled to his coupé, tried in vain to read, walked up and down the
length of the train, smoked a cigarette, and returned to his compartment
to find Herr Selingman immersed in the study of many documents.

"Records of my customers and my transactions," the latter announced
blandly. "I have a great fondness for detail. I know everything. I carry