"A ship or a fort--it shall be for France to choose."

Pachmann's fingers were twitching visibly to be at the other's throat.
But by a mighty effort he controlled himself, flung himself again into
his chair and poured himself out a glass of brandy from the bottle at
his elbow.

"Will you drink?" he asked, over his shoulder.

"No, thank you," answered Vard.

The Prince sat without moving, still staring at the inventor. Meeting
his eyes, Vard smiled slightly.

Pachmann set down his glass, and turned back to them.

"I must ask you to pardon me," he said. "I lost my self-control--a thing
I do not often do--but your suggestions seemed to me insupportable.
However, I can perceive that there is another side to them. I think we
understand your proposal now, most thoroughly. There are certain details
which the Prince and I must discuss together, before we can submit an
answer. In a matter of such moment, we must proceed with the greatest
care. This is Thursday. I think we can be ready by Saturday evening."

"Very well," agreed Vard, rising. "The same hour, in this room?"

"If that pleases you."

"It does."

He bowed coldly to Pachmann; then, with a sudden gesture, held out his
hand to the Prince. But Pachmann interposed before the Prince could take
it.

"That I cannot permit," he said grimly, and he opened the door.

A barefooted sailor, clad in white duck, standing on the deck outside,
saluted. Pachmann stood for a moment staring after Vard's retreating
figure; then he turned back into the room. The Prince was helping
himself to a drink, and Pachmann joined him.

"Yes," he said, "this is what we need, after all that raving."

"Would you call it that?" asked the Prince.

"Raving? Yes, it was precisely that! The man is mad, my Prince;
absolutely mad. No one but a madman would speak as he does--of citizens
of the world, the brotherhood of man, and all that folly!"

The Prince drained his glass.

"I fear you are right," he said, as he set it down. "Yes, I fear you are
right, and that it is only folly!"

"There is one thing you must not forget," added Pachmann, his hand on
the door; "since he is mad, it is as a madman he must be treated!" and
he led the way out upon the deck.

* * * * *

Somewhere in the dim hours of the night, Dan Webster was awakened by a
glare of light in his eyes. He opened them to find that the electric
lamp beside the wash-stand was burning. Peering ove