o his
chambers.

The work which for years he had striven to do for England had been
accomplished. The Great Understanding was complete. In the words of the
secretary of the American Embassy, "Mennaval had delivered the goods,"
and an arrangement had been arrived at, completed this very night,
which would leave England free to face her coming trial in South Africa
without fear of trouble on the flank or in the rear.

The key was turned in the lock, and that lock had been the original
device and design of Ian Stafford. He had done a great work for
civilization and humanity; he had made improbable, if not impossible, a
European war. The Kaiser knew it, Franz Joseph knew it, the Czar knew
it; the White House knew it, and its master nodded with satisfaction,
for John Bull was waking up--"getting a move on." America might have
her own family quarrel with John Bull, but when it was John Bull versus
the world, not even James G. Blaine would have been prepared to see the
old lion too deeply wounded. Even Landrassy, ambassador of Slavonia,
had smiled grimly when he met Ian Stafford on the steps of the Moravian
Embassy. He was artist enough to appreciate a well-played game, and, in
any case, he had had done all that mortal man could in the way of
intrigue and tact and device. He had worked the international press as
well as it had ever been worked; he had distilled poison here and
rosewater there; he had again and again baffled the British Foreign
Office, again and again cut the ground from under Ian Stafford's feet;
and if he could have staved off the pact, the secret international
pact, by one more day, he would have gained the victory for himself,
for his country, for the alliance behind him.

One day, but one day, and the world would never have heard of Ian
Stafford. England would then have approached her conflict with the cup
of trembling at her lips, and there would be a new disposition of power
in Europe, a new dominating force in the diplomacy and the relations of
the peoples of the world. It was Landrassy's own last battle-field of
wit and scheming, of intellect and ambition. If he failed in this, his
sun would set soon. He was too old to carry on much longer. He could
not afford to wait. He was at the end of his career, and he had meant
this victory to be the crown of his long services to Slavonia and the
world.

But to him was opposed a man who was at the beginning of his career,
who needed this victory to give him