Again a rope was stretched across the forward promenade, and, for the information of the curious, a sign attached to it bearing the single word "Paint." Again a guard was stationed in front of the Captain's cabin, but this time it consisted of two petty officers. Again the Captain surprised his subordinates by mounting to the bridge, although the night was clear and fine. They noticed that he was lost in thought, and that he went often to the head of the ladder leading to the deck and glanced down it. The second officer was on duty, and he took occasion to look down, too, on one of his turns along the bridge, but all he could see was a stretch of empty deck and two petty officers leaning against the rail chatting together. The second officer wondered more and more at his commander's uneasiness, and surreptitiously inspected the barometer, tapping it with his finger; but he knew better than to ask any questions.

Meanwhile, in the Captain's cabin, Vard, Pachmann and the Prince again faced each other. Perhaps it would be more exact to say that Vard and Pachmann faced each other, while the Prince looked on from the side-lines. In the heart of that young gentleman, for the past three days, there had been a strange distress, hitherto unknown among Hohenzollerns—the distress of realising that, if truth were told, he was a poor thing who added not to the wealth of the world, but to its poverty; who was unable to support himself, but to support whom men and women and children toiled and starved.

He had never seen it just like that before; reared in the family tradition, it had seemed a law of nature that he should have subjects to work for him and suffer for him and die for him, if need be; he had been taught that it was God himself who had given place and power to his house; and that, if other less-favoured people lived in misery and died in want, why that was doubtless God's will, too. And as for war—why, without war there could be no glory, no conquest, no chivalry. It was war which held a nation together, which made Kings more powerful and thrones more stable! But now came a man with shining eyes who talked of the sinful folly of war, of the wanton waste of armies; who dreamed of universal brotherhood, and a world governed by love! Wild words, foolish dreams, perhaps—and yet most dangerous to the idea of the divine right of Kings! So, that evening, the Prince sat and listened, and tried to understand.It was Pachmann who did most of the talking, and a great deal of it was for the Prince's benefit.

"We have been considering your proposal, Mr. Vard," he began, "and have discussed it thoroughly."

As a matter of fact, he had not exchanged a word with the Prince on the subject; he had distrusted him ever since Vard had offered him his hand, for that action showed that this anarchist, this socialist, this enemy of Kings, had detected in this young descendant of Kings sympathy and a certain understanding. Pachmann thought of it with disgust and horror.

"We have discussed it thoroughly," Pachmann repeated, and the Prince, who detected the contempt in the words, flushed hotly, but did not speak; "and there are certain objections to your plan which we wish to submit to you. The first of these is that war does not depend upon explosives. Before gunpowder, men fought with swords and lances and arrows; before the discovery of iron and steel, with clubs and stones. Man has always been fighting, even when he had no weapons but his fists."

"That is true," assented Vard. "Pray continue."

"My argument is," went on Pachmann, dropping the plural once for all, "that, though you may render all explosives useless, and blow up forts and battleships and arsenals, you will not stop war. You will merely compel it to shift to another basis—to the old basis, probably, of brute strength, of hand-to-hand combat. And if you do that, the old days will return of barbarian invasions. The Turk will sweep down again on southern Europe; the Tartars will invade us from the east. You will not assist civilisation; you will set it back a thousand years. It will have to fight again for its very existence, as it did in the Middle Ages."

But Vard shook his head.

"I have thought of that," he said. "In the first place, it will be permitted to continue the use of explosives against the barbarians—for defence, you understand, not for aggression—until such time as we can persuade them, too, to lay down their arms. As to your other objection, it falls to the ground the moment you agree with me that all the nations of the world must ultimately become democracies. At first, it is true, men fought of their own volition, but it was to secure food, to guard their homes, or to replenish their supply of women. But since those very early days, all wars have been wars not of the people, but of their rulers. They were wars of revenge or of ambition, in which the people joined because they had no choice. They were driven into the ranks, were sometimes sold by one power to fight for another. Left to their own choice, they would have remained quietly at home, tilling their fields, rearing their families. The only great exception I know of is the early wars of Napoleon. To those wars, the French people did undoubtedly rush; but they were still drunk from the Revolution, and their ardour soon passed. Your own people, the people of Germany, are a peaceable, home-loving people. You have always had to keep them under your thumb by forced service, by conscription, by the most rigorous laws; you have always had to drive them to war."

"Another exception occurs to me," said Pachmann, disregarding the last sentence, "and one to which I would call your attention, since it occurred in a country where the people are supposed to govern. It was the people of the United States who drove their rulers into the war with Spain."

"That is true," Vard agreed; "and it was a mistake. The people will sometimes err when their sympathy is appealed to and their passion aroused. But the results of that war were, on the whole, good. A people was freed."

"And another enslaved," said Pachmann, with a sneer.

"It was already enslaved," Vard corrected; "but I admit that it was continued in slavery. That was done by the rulers, not by the people. Had the people been permitted to decide, the Philippines would have been free, no less than Cuba. Their independence must, of course, be guaranteed when the United States signs our treaty."

"But you admit, as I understand you," said Pachmann, returning to the main point, "that to abolish explosives will not abolish war."

"I admit that, yes. To abolish explosives is only the first step. The final step will be the abolition of hereditary rule."

"The abolition of Kings?"

"The abolition of Kings, of Emperors, of Czars, of Princes, of Dukes, of all tyrants, great and small, who, by reason of birth, now claim the right to tax or oppress or command even the meanest of their fellow-creatures. There must be rulers, yes; but it is for the people themselves to choose them, and then willingly to submit to them."

"But you are at this moment treating with a King," Pachmann pointed out. "Can you expect him to agree to such a programme?"

"The world has outgrown Kings," retorted Vard. "In any event, another fifty years will see them all abolished. I but hasten the end a little—the millennium. And he will be happier when he is merely a man like other men."

"Happiness is not the greatest thing in the world," Pachmann objected.

"And I say it is!" cried Vard, with sudden violence. "Not our own happiness—no; but the happiness of our fellow-creatures. That is the greatest thing in the world; the thing for which every wise and good man labours!"

There was a moment's silence. The Prince shifted uneasily in his chair and clasped and unclasped his hands. There had never been such talk as this in the royal nursery!

Pachmann's face was cynical, as he lighted a fresh cigar.

"Dreams!" he sneered. "Beautiful dreams! Do you know what it is you are undertaking? You are undertaking to change human nature."

"That is an old cry," retorted Vard scornfully. "And what if I were? Human nature is changing every day! But I am not undertaking to change it—I wish merely to free human nature from the fetters with which tyrants bind it, so that it may grow straight and strong, as God intended."

"I am not acquainted with God's intentions," said Pachmann coldly. "He does not confide in me. But my philosophy, my observation, and my experience teach me that the wise man makes the best of things as they are, accepts the facts of life, and does what he can. He sees that the world is too big for him to overturn, he realises that there are many things he cannot understand, his intelligence sometimes revolts at what seems to be oppression and injustice. But he puts away from him the fallacy that all men are equal—they are not equal, their very inequality proves it. Some must rule and some be ruled; for some life must be pleasanter and more full of meaning than it is for others; some men must be strong and some weak, just as some women are beautiful and some ugly. It is not their fault; it is their misfortune, and they suffer for it. Which brings me to the principal objection I have to your proposal. It is this: I believe that we shall find it a mere waste of time to invite the nations of the world to sign a treaty for complete disarmament; they distrust each other, and that distrust has proved too often to be well-founded. The long centuries have made them jealous, sullen, watchful. There is only one motive which can make them sign—fear—fear of what may happen if they do not!"

"I have already said," remarked Vard, "that I am ready to apply compulsion, should it be necessary."

"But you are finite," Pachmann objected, gently. "You are but an individual, whose life may end at any moment; while, as you yourself have said, this plan of yours will take long years, generations perhaps, to consummate. To perfect it will test the best intellects of the world. Once begun, it must be carried through. Do you think it wise to imperil its success by making it depend so largely on yourself? Besides, what would be easier than for an unwilling nation to suppress you? A pistol-shot, a blow with a knife, and the brotherhood of man tumbles to pieces."

"What is it you propose?" asked Vard, who had listened to all this with growing impatience.

"I propose that, instead of so great a task being assumed by an individual, it be assumed by an entire nation, which shall pledge its honour to carry it to success."

"And this nation," said Vard, sarcastically, "should, of course, in your opinion, be Germany."

"I admit," replied Pachmann, with dignity, "that I consider Germany best-fitted to carry out the plan. I think you will agree with me that, if a single nation is to undertake it, it must be one of the five great nations. In world-politics, the others are negligible. Well, let us see. France, a nation of peacocks, excitable, impressionable, easily angered, making much of trifles, jealous of their dignity, a dying nation which grows smaller and weaker every year. England, also a degenerate nation, soaked in gin, where a hundred thousand men are unemployed, and where no better remedy for pauperism can be found than universal pensions, which only make more paupers. Russia, an ignorant nation, whose ruling class is composed of men without morals and without ideals—thieves and drunkards and vain braggarts. There remains America, and at first glance it might seem that here is the nation to be entrusted with the great work. But, after all, it is a nation of money-grubbers, ruled by a money-trust, where wealth is worshipped as no other nation worships rank; a nation without culture, without experience in world-politics, without self-control, loudly vain, inept, wasteful, childish—a nation, in other words, at the awkward age between youth and manhood.

"Let us now turn to Germany. I speak only what is within the knowledge of all intelligent men when I say that in manufacture, in agriculture, in the administration of government, in science, in literature, in music, in general culture, Germany is first among nations. Some may quarrel with her military policy, but none can question her progress or her achievements. All other nations come to Germany to learn. This is not exaggeration; it is calm statement of fact. I firmly believe that to-day, intellectually, morally, materially, Germany is the first nation in the world. And it is altogether fitting that she should be chosen as the leader of the world and arbiter of the affairs of all nations."

Vard had risen from his seat during this discourse, which was delivered with emphasis and conviction, and paced nervously up and down the cabin, his face drawn, a deep line between his brows. And Pachmann watched him curiously. So did the Prince watch him, wondering what he would reply. He did not leave them long in doubt.

"In answer to you, Admiral Pachmann," he said, speaking slowly and carefully, as though weighing every word, "I can only say this: I do not dispute Germany's great achievements; no man can do that. It is probably true that in science, in learning, in general culture, and in efficiency, she is, as you say, first among nations. Her people are a great people—but it is not them you represent. You represent an hereditary monarch, the only one in western Europe who still speaks of the divine right of Kings—a man who would be an absolute autocrat, if he dared. Supporting him is a powerful circle of hereditary nobles, whose interest it is to increase in every possible way the prestige and power of the throne. At their command, ready to do their bidding, is a magnificent army and a great navy. Did your Emperor possess my secret, he could at once declare war against Europe; he could conquer Europe, and every German Prince would be a King. My whole purpose would be warped and debased. Instead of universal brotherhood, we should have a single ruling house, imposing its will on millions of conquered peoples. Instead of love, we should have world-wide hate. And I say to you plainly, sir, that, rather than that such a thing should come to pass, I will destroy my invention and leave the world as it is."Pachmann had listened intently, nodding his head from time to time, or puckering his brows in dissent.

"Have you yourself no ambition?" he asked. "Is there nothing in the way of honour or position which you desire for yourself or for your daughter?"

An ugly sneer curled the inventor's lips.

"Bribery—I expected that!" he said. "No, there is nothing—nothing but the consciousness that it was I who ended war!"

"And your refusal of my first proposal is absolute?"

"Absolute. I consider it insulting."

"You will not modify the terms of your proposal?"

"Not in any essential detail."

"And if Germany refuses, you go to France?"

"That is my intention."

"Very well," and the Admiral rose, too. "The situation is, then, quite clear to us; there is no longer any shadow of uncertainty. It is for us to assent or to refuse. Our answer will be ready for you in a very short time."

Vard bowed, his face very pale, and stepped to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob.

"Remember one thing," he said; "it will be better for Germany to lead than to follow; your Emperor will find the head of the procession much more to his taste than the tail of it. And it will be for him either the one or the other! Good night!" and he opened the door and was gone.

Pachmann stood with clenched fists and flushed face staring at the spot where Vard had stood.

"Fool! fool!" he muttered. "That he should think he could defy and threaten—and still escape! A great fool, is he not, my Prince?"

The Prince awoke, as from a dream.

"Great, at least!" he said.