he
guise of conquerors, should garrison our towns with foreign soldiers,
demand a huge indemnity, and then, withdrawing, leave us to our fate?
You have no guarantees to offer me, Maxendorf."

"None but my word," Maxendorf confessed quietly.

"You bargain like a politician!" Selingman cried. "Man, can't you see
the glory of it?"

"I can see the glory," Maraton answered, turning around, "but I can see
also the ineffaceable ignominy of it. Is your country great enough,
Maxendorf, to follow where your finger points? I do not know."

"Yet you, too," Maxendorf persisted, "must sometimes have looked into
futurity. You must have seen the slow decay of national pride, the
nations of the world growing closer and closer together. Can't you bear
to strike a blow for the great things? You and I see so well the utter
barbarism of warfare, the hideous waste of our mighty armaments,
draining the money like blood from our countries, and all for
senselessness, all just to keep alive that strange spirit which belongs
to the days of romance, and the days of romance only. It's a workaday
world now, Maraton. We draw nearer to the last bend in the world's
history. Oh, this is the truth! I have seen it for so long. It's my
religion, Maraton. The time may not have come to preach it broadcast,
but it's there in my heart."

Selingman struck the table with the palm of his hand.

"Enough!" he said. "The words have been spoken. To-morrow or the next
day we meet again. Go to your study, Maraton, and think. Lock the
door. Turn out the Julia I shall some day rob you of. Hold your head,
look into the future. Think! Think! No more words now. They do no
good. Come. I stay with Maxendorf. I go with you to the lift."

Maxendorf held out his hand.

"Selingman is, as usual, right," he confessed. "We are speaking in a
great language, Maraton. It is enough for to-night, perhaps. Come back
to me when you will within the next forty-eight hours."

They left him there, a curious figure, straight and motionless, standing
upon the threshold of his room. Selingman gripped Maraton by the arm as
he hurried him along the corridor.

"You've doubts, Maraton," he muttered. "Doubts! Curse them! They are
not worthy. You should see the truth. You're big enough. You will see
it to-morrow. Get out of the fog. Maxendorf is the most profound
thinker of these days. He is over here with that scheme of his deep in
his heart. It's become a passion with him. We have talked