o let go lightly. I finally secured his
consent, but an hour later he sent for me again. It was to talk over a
new enemy that has arisen in this fight of the present administration
to weld the conflicting elements of our nation into a single-thinking
whole. I refer to the ultra-pacifist section which has grown so large
recently.

'You told me once that you knew this fellow, Austin Selwyn. I am sorry
to set friend against friend, but his influence over the cultured and
pacifist elements has to be met sternly and at once. We cannot take
personal action against him, because he is within his rights as a
citizen of a neutral country; but nevertheless his writings are proving
a strong disrupting force--stronger, in fact, than many of the clumsier
methods employed by subjects of belligerent nations.

'Word has reached us that in all probability this nation will be faced
shortly with the most momentous decision of the war. Therefore I must
insist that you take charge of the anti-disruptionist propaganda. I
shall be in New York next Wednesday, and will discuss with you the
methods by which we can stem the tide of disloyal pacificism as
exemplified by this man Selwyn.

'We have no hold over you, my boy; but in the name of this great
Republic which is struggling against such odds for unification of her
national life, I bid you remain at your post. I know that the son of
my old friend Colonel Van Derwater will not question an order.--Yours
faithfully,

A. WALTER GALLEY.'

As Selwyn finished the letter, a flush swept into his cheeks and his
jaw stiffened with his old fighting mannerism.

'This is infamous!' he cried hotly. 'Do you accuse me of disloyalty to
my own country?'

'I do,' said Van Derwater calmly.

Selwyn's fists clenched with fury. 'Van,' he said, his voice quivering
with suppressed passion, 'I may have been blind--I can see where I have
injured you and many others--but when you or Galley say that I have
been trying to disrupt America, you lie. There is no one more
passionately devoted to his country than I.'

'Which is your country?' said Van Derwater.

Through the dim light of the room the eyes of the two men met.
Selwyn's were blazing like hot coals; Van Derwater's were cold and
steely.

'What have I done,' said Selwyn, twice checking himself before he could
trust his voice, 'but tried to show that war is wrong--that men without
quarrel are killing each other now--that every nation has cont