es!" she repeated. "Do you believe, then, that we are
like those ancient races who felt the presence of a conqueror
because their hosts were scattered in battle, and who suffered
themselves passively to be led into captivity? My country can be
conquered in one way, and one way only,--not until her sons, ay,
and her daughters too, have perished, can these people rule. They
will come to an empty and a stricken country--a country red with
blood, desolate, with blackened houses and empty cities. The
horror of it! Think, my friend David, the horror of it!"

Bellamy threw his head back with a sudden gesture of impatience.

"You take too much for granted," he declared. "England, at any
rate, is not yet a conquered race. And there is France--Italy,
too, if she is wise, will never suffer this thing from her ancient
enemy."

"It is the might of the world which threatens," she murmured.
"Your country may defend herself, but here she is powerless.
Already it has been proved. Last year you declared yourself our
friend--you and even Russia. Of what avail was it? Word came
from Berlin and you were powerless."

Then tragedy broke into the room, tragedy in the shape of a man
demented. For fifteen years Bellamy had known Arthur Dorward, but
this man was surely a stranger! He was hatless, dishevelled, wild.
A dull streak of color had mounted almost to his forehead, his eyes
were on fire.

"Bellamy!" he cried. "Bellamy!"

Words failed him suddenly. He leaned against the table, breathless,
panting heavily.

"For God's sake, man," Bellamy began,--

"Alone!" Dorward interrupted. "I must see you alone! I have news!"

Mademoiselle Idiale rose. She touched Bellamy on the shoulder.

"You will come to me, or telephone," she whispered. "So?"

Bellamy opened the door and she passed out, with a farewell pressure
of his fingers. Then he closed it firmly and came back.

CHAPTER II

ARTHUR DORWARD'S "SCOOP"

"What's wrong, old man?" Bellamy asked quickly.

Dorward from a side table had seized the bottle of whiskey and a
siphon, and was mixing himself a drink with trembling fingers. He
tossed it off before he spoke a word. Then he turned around and
faced his companion. "Bellamy," he ordered, "lock the door."

Bellamy obeyed. He had no doubt now but that Dorward had lost his
head in the Chancellor's presence--had made some absurd attempt to
gain the knowledge which they both craved, and had failed.

"B