"No. Both the War Office and the Admiralty have told me they have all the explosives they want," he sneered. "But I've made a few inquiries, and I think that by the
time my factory's up they'll be wanting more explosives than they can get. In fact I wish I could build half a dozen factories. Dare say I shall."
"Then you think we're in for a long war?"
"Not specially that. If it's a long war you English will win. If it's a short war the Germans will win, and it will be the end of France as a great power. That's all."
"Won't it be the end of your factory too?"
"Noh!" exclaimed Sir Isaac, with careless compassion in his deep, viscid voice. "If it's a short war, there'll be another war. You English will never leave it alone. So that whatever happens, if I take up explosives, I can't go wrong. It's velvet."
"It seems to me we shall bust up the whole world if we aren't careful, soon."
Sir Isaac smiled more compassion.
"Not at all," he said easily. "Not at all. Things are always arranged in the end—more or less satisfactorily, of course. It's up to the individual to look out for himself."
George said: