"In commerce," Herr Selingman insisted, "that is necessary. All my agents
speak four languages."

"You deserve to capture our trade," Norgate sighed.

"To a certain extent, my young friend," Selingman declared, "we mean to
do it. We are doing it. And yet there is enough for us both. There is
trade enough for your millions and for mine. So long as Germany and
England remain friends, they can divide the commerce of the world between
them. It is our greatest happiness, we who have a business relying upon
the good-will of the two nations, to think that year by year the clouds
of discord are rolling away from between us. Young sir, as a German
citizen, I will drink a toast with you, an English one. I drink to
everlasting peace between my country and yours!"

Norgate drained his glass. Selingman threw back his head as he followed
suit, and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"And now," the former remarked, rising to his feet, "I think I'll go and
turn in. I dare say you two still have some business to talk about,
especially if Mr. Meyer is leaving us shortly."

Norgate made his way back to his compartment, undressed leisurely and
climbed into the upper bunk. For an hour or two he indulged in the fitful
slumber usually engendered by night travelling. At the frontier he sat up
and answered the stereotyped questions. Herr Selingman, in sky-blue
pyjamas, and with face looking more beaming and florid than ever, poked
his head cheerfully out of the lower bunk.