"It is orders that I follow," he was told. And Walter Harkness
complied.

"It could happen only here," he told himself. And he found himself
exasperated by a people who were slow to conform to the customs of a
world whose closely-knit commerce had obliterated the narrow
nationalism of the past.

* * * * *

They landed in an open court surrounded by wide lawns. He glimpsed
trees about them in the dusk, and looming before him was an old-time
building of the chateau type set off in this private park. He would
have followed his guide toward the entrance, but a flash of color
checked him.

Like a streak of flame a ship shot in above them; hung poised near the
one that had brought them and settled to rest beside it. A little red
speedster, it made a splash of crimson against the green lawns beyond.
And, "Nice flying," Harkness was telling himself.

The hold-down clamps had hardly gripped it when a figure sprang out
from an opened door. A figure in cool gray that took warmth and color
from the ship behind--a figure of a girl, tall and slender and
graceful as she came impulsively toward him.

"Monsieur Harkness!" she exclaimed. "But this is a surprise. I thought
that Herr Schwartzmann was to see you in Vienna!" For a brief moment
Harkness saw a flicker of puzzled wonderment in her eyes.

"And I am sorry," she went on, "--so very sorry for your misfortune.
But we will be generous."

She withdrew her hand which Harkness was holding. He was still
phrasing a conventional greeting as she flung him a gay laugh and a
look from brown eyes that smiled encouragement. She was gone before
he found words for reply.

Walter Harkness had been brought up in a world of business, and knew
little of the subtle message of a woman's eyes. But he felt within him
a warm response to the friendly companionship that the glance implied.

Within the chateau, in a dark-paneled room, Herr Schwartzmann was
waiting. He motioned Harkness to a chair and resumed his complacent
contemplation of a picture that was flowing across a screen. Color
photography gave every changing shade. It was coming by wireless, as
Harkness knew, and he realized that the sending instrument must be in
a ship that cruised slowly above a scene of wreckage and desolation.

He recognized the ruins of his great plant; he saw the tiny figures of
men, and he knew that the salvage company he had placed in charge was
on the job. Beyond was a str