“Did you, though?” observed timid voice—not questioningly, but as an assurance that he was listening attentively.
“Yes, the same with the war. I see it coming for years—years, I did. And if they'd taken my advice it' ud have been over in no time. In the first week I said: 'What we've got to do is to build 1000 aeroplanes and train 10,000 pilots and make 2000 torpedo craft.' That's what I said. But was it done?”
“Of course not,” said timid voice.
“I saw it all with my long sight. It's a way I have. I don't know why, but there it is. I'm not much at the platform business—tub-thumping, I call it—but for seeing things far off—well, I'm a bit psychic, you know.”
“Ah,” said timid voice, mournfully, “it's a pity some of those talking fellows are not psychic, too.” He'd got the word firmly now.
“Them psychic!” said big voice, with scorn. “We know what they are. You see that Miss Asquith is marrying a Roumanian prince. Mark my word, he'll turn out to be a German, that's what he'll turn out to be. It's German money all round. Same with these strikes. There's German money behind them.”
“Shouldn't wonder at all,” said timid voice.
“I know,” said big voice. “I've a way of seeing things. The same in the Boer War. I saw that coming for years.”
“Did you, indeed?” said timid voice.
“Yes. I wrote it down, and showed it to some of my friends. There it was in black and white. They said it was wonderful how it all turned out—two years, I said, 250 millions of money, and 20,000 casualties. That's what I said, and that's what it was. I said the Boers would win, and I claim they did win, seeing old Campbell Bannerman gave them all they asked for.”