n Derwater's place and left in front of him. He
took it up without opening it, and fingered it idly as he spoke.

'A nation does not need to be at war,' he went on, 'to find that traitors
are in her midst. The struggle of this Administration for unity of
thought has been thwarted right and left by men of no vision, men drunk
with greed, men blinded with education and so-called idealism. Mr.
Watson, you ask what we have done with America's soul. I will tell you
what we have done _for_ it. There are many of us in this room who have
given everything we have--our time, our friends, and things which we
valued more than life--because we have respected the trust imposed on us
of maintaining America's destiny. I am sorry for your empty sleeve. But
let me assure you that we, also, have known suffering. Because we
believe in America--_first, last, and always in America_--we have stayed
here, enduring sneers and contumely, in order that when America speaks it
will be like the sound of a rushing cataract--one voice, one heart, but
the voice and heart of Humanity. In no other way can America go to war.
. . . And until that moment arrives I shall wear this garb of neutrality
as proudly as any soldier his uniform of honour.'

He sat down, and in an instant the whole crowd was on its feet. Men
cheered and shouted, and, unashamed, tears ran down many faces. With his
heart pounding and his eyes blinded with emotion, Selwyn did not make a
move. He could only watch, through the mist, the figure of Gerard Van
Derwater with its cloak of loneliness. He saw him look down at the
message and break the seal of the envelope. He saw a flush of colour
sweep into the pallid cheeks and then recede again. Still with the air
of calmness and self-control, Van Derwater rose again to his feet.
'Gentlemen,' he said. The room was hushed instantly and every face was
turned towards him. 'Gentlemen, I have received a message from my
headquarters. Germany has announced the resumption of unrestricted
submarine warfare.'

For a moment the room swam before Selwyn's eyes. The shouts and
exclamations of the others seemed to come from a distance. And suddenly
he found that he was on his feet. His eyes were like brilliants and his
voice rang out above all the other sounds.

'Van!' he cried, 'does this mean war--at last?'

With steady, unchanging demeanour his former friend looked at him.
'Yes,' he said. 'At last.'

And as they watched they