great country to fight for, and a just cause. I saw Hebblethwaite as I came in. He is a changed man. Talks about raising an immense citizen army in six months. Both his boys have taken up commissions. Hebblethwaite himself is going around the country, recruiting. They are his people, after all. He has given them their prosperity at the expense, alas! of our safety. It’s up to them now to prove whether the old spirit is there or not. We shall need two million men. Hebblethwaite believes we shall get them long before the camps are ready to receive them. If we do, it will be his justification.”
“And if we don’t?” Anna murmured.
Norgate threw his head a little further back.
“Most pictures,” he said, “have two sides, but we need only look at one. I am going to believe that we shall get them. I am going to remember the only true thing that fellow Selingman ever said: that our lesson had come before it is too late. I am going to believe that the heart and conscience of the nation is still a live thing. If it is, dear, the end is certain. And I am going to believe that it is!”
HAVOC
III. “Ours Is A Strange Courtship”
IV. The Night Train From Vienna
V. “Von Behrling Has The Packet”
VII. “We Play For Great Stakes”
XII. Baron De Streuss’ Proposal
XIII. Stephen Laverick’s Conscience
XIV. Arthur Morrison’s Collapse
XVI. The Waiter At The “Black Post”
XX. Laverick Is Cross-Examined
XXI. Mademoiselle Idiale’s Visit
XXII. Activity Of Austrian Spies
XXIV. A Supper Party At Luigi’s
XXVIII. Laverick’s Narrow Escape
XXIX. Lassen’s Treachery Discovered
XXX. The Contest For The Papers
XXXVIII. A Farewell Appearance
I. CROWNED HEADS MEET
Bellamy, King’s Spy, and Dorward, journalist, known to fame in every English-speaking country, stood before the double window of their spacious sitting-room, looking down upon the thoroughfare beneath. Both men were laboring under a bitter sense of failure. Bellamy’s face was dark with forebodings; Dorward was irritated and nervous. Failure was a new thing to him—a thing which those behind the great journals which he represented understood less, even, than he. Bellamy loved his country, and fear was gnawing at his heart.
Below, the crowds which had been waiting patiently for many hours broke into a tumult of welcoming voices. Down their thickly-packed lines the volume of sound arose and grew, a faint murmur at first, swelling and growing to a thunderous roar. Myriads of hats were suddenly torn from the heads of the excited multitude, handkerchiefs waved from every window. It was a wonderful greeting, this.
“The