"Why, my dear," he said, "you have heard the explanation. I do not for a moment imagine that the steamship company would have been so generous if there had been any way to avoid it!"
"No, I suppose not!" Kasia agreed, and set herself to arrange their belongings—it was almost like fitting up a flat! "This suit-case is very heavy, father," she added, after a moment. "Will you put it in your room?"
"Of course," and Vard lifted it, started for the bedroom, and then turned and placed it on the little table which stood between the windows. "I will have a look at it, first," he said, loosened the straps, took a key from a flapped compartment of his pocket-book and put it in the lock. "One would scarcely believe, Kasia," he added, with a smile, "that this little bag contains the destiny of the world!"
"No," she said, and came and stood beside him, one arm about him, her head against his shoulder.
He turned the key and raised the lid. Then he put aside some articles of clothing and lifted from beneath them an oblong box, open at the ends. One saw, on looking closer, that the sides of the box were of glass, partially covered on both sides with tin-foil; and peering in at the open end, one perceived a vague maze of wires and pinions.
Vard gazed at it for some moments without speaking.
"There it is, Kasia," he said, at last, "the wonder-worker, which, properly tuned and connected with its batteries, generates a force which puts an end to armies and to fleets. With it in the world, there can be no more war—and if there is no more war, there is the end of kings and tyrants. It is a great thought, is it not, my daughter?"
"A great thought!" she echoed, but her voice was shaking, and she shivered a little and drew closer to him. "And yet, father, think what an awful force it would be if it fell into unscrupulous hands! It is that which makes me tremble sometimes!"
"You do not fear me, Kasia?" he asked reproachfully.
"No, father; of course not!"