"It is all much simpler, certainly," he murmured, glancing first at the
old complicated colouring of the beginning of the twentieth century, and
then at the three great washes of the twenty-first.

He moved his finger along Asia. The words EASTERN EMPIRE ran across the
pale yellow, from the Ural Mountains on the left to the Behring Straits
on the right, curling round in giant letters through India, Australia,
and New Zealand. He glanced at the red; it was considerably smaller, but
still important enough, considering that it covered not only Europe
proper, but all Russia up to the Ural Mountains, and Africa to the
south. The blue-labelled AMERICAN REPUBLIC swept over the whole of that
continent, and disappeared right round to the left of the Western
Hemisphere in a shower of blue sparks on the white sea.

"Yes, it's simpler," said the old man drily.

Percy shut the book and set it by his chair.

"And what next, sir? What will happen?"

The old Tory statesman smiled.

"God knows," he said. "If the Eastern Empire chooses to move, we can do
nothing. I don't know why they have not moved. I suppose it is because
of religious differences."

"Europe will not split?" asked the priest.

"No, no. We know our danger now. And America would certainly help us.