one man in Germany who
has fought the war, tooth and nail, from the start."

Julian caught his friend by the shoulder.

"Miles," he said,--"straight from the bottom of your heart, mind--you do
believe we are justified?"

"I have never doubted it."

"You know that we have practically created a revolution--that we have
established a dictatorship? Stenson must obey or face anarchy."

"It is the voice of the people," Furley declared. "I am convinced that
we are justified. I am convinced of the inutility of the prolongation of
this war."

Julian drew a little sigh of relief.

"Don't think I am weakening," he said. "Remember, I am new to this thing
in practice, even though I may be responsible for some of the theory."

"It is the people who are the soundest directors of a nation's policy,"
Furley pronounced. "High politics becomes too much like a game of chess,
hedged all around with etiquette and precedent. It's human life we want
to save, Julian. People don't stop to realise the horrible tragedy of
even one man's death--one man with his little circle of relatives and
friends. In the game of war one forgets. Human beings--men from the
toiler's bench, the carpenter's bench, from behind the counter, from
the land, from the mine--don khaki, become soldiers, and there seems
something different about them. So many human lives gone every day; just
soldiers, just the toll we have to pay for a slight advance or a costly
retreat. And, my God, every one of them, underneath their khaki, is
a human being! The politicians don't grasp it, Julian. That's our
justification. The day that armistice is signed, several hundred lives
at least--perhaps, thousands--will be saved; for several hundred women
the sun will continue to shine. Parents, sweethearts, children--all of
them--think what they will be spared!"

"I am a man again," Julian declared. "Come along round to Westminster.
There are many things I want to ask about the Executive."

They drove round to the great building which had been taken over by
the different members of the Labour Council. The representative of each
Trades Union had his own office, staff of clerks and private telephone.
Fenn, who greeted the two men with a rather excessive cordiality,
constituted himself their cicerone. He took them from room to room and
waited while Julian exchanged remarks with some of the delegates whom he
had not met personally.

"Every one of our members," Fenn pointed out, "is in di