professed to be overawed by the peace
desires of the Reichstag. The Pan-Germans professed a desire to give in
to the Socialists. All lies! They encouraged Freistner to continue his
negotiations here with Fenn. Freistner was honest enough. I am not so
sure about Fenn."

Fenn sprang to his feet, a blasphemous exclamation broke from his lips.
Julian faced him, unmoved. The atmosphere of the room was now electric.

"I am going to finish what I have to say," he went on. "I know that
every one will wish me to. We are all here to look for the truth and
nothing else, and, thanks to Miss Abbeway, we have stumbled upon it.
These peace proposals, which look so well on paper, are a decoy. They
were made to be broken. Those signatures are affixed to be repudiated.
I say that Freistner has been a prisoner for weeks, and I deny that
Fenn has received a single communication from him during that time.
Fenn asserts that he has, but has destroyed them. I repeat that he is a
liar."

"That's plain speaking," Cross declared. "Now, then, Fenn, lad, what
have you to say about it?"

Fenn leaned forward, his face distorted with something which might have
been anger, but which seemed more closely to resemble fear.

"This is just part of the ratting!" he exclaimed. "I never keep a
communication from Freistner. I have told you so before. The preliminary
letters I had you all saw, and we deliberated upon them together. Since
then, all that I have had have been friendly messages, which I have
destroyed."

There was a little uncertain murmur. Julian proceeded.

"You see," he said, "Mr. Fenn is not able to clear himself from my first
accusation. Now let us hear what he will do with this one. Mr. Fenn
started life, I believe, as a schoolmaster at a parish school, a very
laudable and excellent occupation. He subsequently became manager to a
firm of timber merchants in the city and commenced to interest himself
in Labour movements. He rose by industry and merit to his present
position--a very excellent career, but not, I should think, a
remunerative one. Shall we put his present salary down at ten pounds a
week?"

"What the devil concern is this of yours?" the goaded man shouted.

"Of mine and all of us," Julian retorted, "for I come now to a certain
question. Will you disclose your bank book?"

Fenn reeled for a moment in his seat. He affected not to have heard the
question.

"My what?" he stammered.

"Your bank book," Julian repeated ca