hideous cruelty and outrage to ask too closely about--one,
perhaps, which he could, even if he would, poor fellow, give no
account of--has put him temporarily at the world's mercy. They
made him a nine days' wonder, a byword. And that, my dear Danton,
is just where we come in. We know the man himself; and it is to
be our privilege to act as a buffer-state, to be intermediaries
between him and the rest of this deadly, craving, sheepish
world--for the time being; oh yes, just for the time being. Other
and keener and more knowledgeable minds than mine or yours will
some day bring him back to us again. We don't attempt to explain;
we can't. We simply believe.'

But Danton merely continued to stare, as if into the quiet of an
aquarium.

'My dear good Danton,' persisted Mr Bethany with cherubic
patience, 'how old are you?'

'I don't see quite...' smiled Danton with recovered ease, and
rapidly mobilising forces. 'Excuse the confidence, Mrs
Lawford, I'm forty-three.'

'Good,' said Mr Bethany; 'and I'm seventy-one, and this child
here'--he pointed an accusing finger at Sheila--is youth
perpetual. So,' he briskly brightened, 'say, between us we're six
score all told. Are we--can we, deliberately, with this mere
pinch of years at our command out of the wheeling millions that
have gone--can we say, "This is impossible," to any single
phenomenon? CAN we?'