I had the same kind of feel myself, though I didn't see how Peter and I
were going to meet, unless I went out to the Front again and got put in
the bag and sent to the same Boche prison. But I had an instinct that
my time in Biggleswick was drawing to a close, and that presently I
would be in rougher quarters. I felt quite affectionate towards the
place, and took all my favourite walks, and drank my own health in the
brew of the village inns, with a consciousness of saying goodbye. Also
I made haste to finish my English classics, for I concluded I wouldn't
have much time in the future for miscellaneous reading.

The Tuesday came, and in the evening I set out rather late for the Moot
Hall, for I had been getting into decent clothes after a long, hot
stride. When I reached the place it was pretty well packed, and I could
only find a seat on the back benches. There on the platform was Ivery,
and beside him sat a figure that thrilled every inch of me with
affection and a wild anticipation. 'I have now the privilege,' said the
chairman, 'of introducing to you the speaker whom we so warmly welcome,
our fearless and indefatigable American friend, Mr Blenkiron.'

It was the old Blenkiron, but almightily changed. His stoutness had
gone, and he was as lean as Abraham Lincoln. Instead of a puffy face,
his cheek-bones and jaw stood out hard and sharp, and in place of his
former pasty colour his complexion had the clear glow of health. I saw
now that he was a splendid figure of a man, and when he got to his feet
every movement had the suppleness of an athlete in training. In that
moment I realized that my serious business had now begun. My senses
suddenly seemed quicker, my nerves tenser, my brain more active. The
big game had started, and he and I were playing it together.

I watched him with strained attention. It was a funny speech, stuffed
with extravagance and vehemence, not very well argued and terribly
discursive. His main point was that Germany was now in a fine
democratic mood and might well be admitted into a brotherly
partnership--that indeed she had never been in any other mood, but had
been forced into violence by the plots of her enemies. Much of it, I
should have thought, was in stark defiance of the Defence of the Realm
Acts, but if any wise Scotland Yard officer had listened to it he would
probably have considered it harmless because of its contradictions. It
was full of a fierce earnestness, and it was full of hu