p of the Secret
Service of every country, not excepting your own, Herr Selingman--it is
my opinion that this war must be indecisive. The German fleet would be
crippled and not destroyed. The English fleet would retain its
proportionate strength. No French advance into Germany would be
successful, no German advance into France is likely. The war would
languish for lack of funds, through sheer inanition it would flicker
out, and the money of the world would flow into the treasuries of
America. Russia would not be fighting for her living. With her it could
be at best but a half-hearted war. She would do her duty to the
alliance. Nothing more could be hoped from her. You could not expect,
for instance, that she would call up all her reserves, leave the whole
of her eastern frontier unprotected, and throw into mid-Europe such a
force as would in time subjugate Germany. This could be done but it will
not be done. We all know that."

Monsieur Douaille smoked thoughtfully for several moments.

"Very well," he pronounced at last, "I am rather inclined to agree with
all that you have said. Yet it seems to me that you evade the great
point. The status quo is what we desire, peace is what the world wants.
If, before such a war as you have spoken of is begun, people realise
what the end of it must be, don't you think that that itself is the
greatest help towards peace? My own opinion is, I tell you frankly, that
for many years to come, at any rate, there will be no war."

Herr Selingman set down his glass and turned slowly around.

"Then let me tell you that you are mistaken," he declared solemnly.
"Listen to me, my friend Douaille--my friend, mind, and not the
statesman Douaille. I am a German citizen and you are a French one, and
I tell you that if in three years' time your country does not make up
its mind to strike a blow for Alsace and Lorraine, then in three years'
time Germany will declare war upon you."

Monsieur Douaille had the expression of a man who doubts. Selingman
frowned. He was suddenly immensely serious. He struck the palm of one
hand a great blow with his clenched fist.

"Why is it that no one in the world understands," he cried, "what
Germany wants? I tell you, Monsieur Douaille, that we don't hate your
country. We love it. We crowd to Paris. We expand there. It is the
holiday place of every good German. Who wants a ruined France? Not we!
Yet, unless there is a change in the international situation, we shal