"Since you have guessed it—yes," he admitted. "We go to Maxendorf. I take Maraton there. It will be a great meeting. We three—we represent much. A great meeting, indeed."
Mr. Foley's face was troubled.
"Maxendorf only arrives to-night," he remarked presently.
"What matter?" Selingman replied. "He is like me—he is tireless, and though his body be weary, his brain is ever working."
"What do they say on the Continent about his coming?" Mr. Foley enquired. "We thought that he was settled for life in Rome."
Selingman shook his head portentously.
"Politics," he declared, "ah! in the abstract they are wonderful, but in the concrete they do not interest me. Maxendorf has come here, doubtless, with great schemes in his mind."
"Schemes of friendship or of enmity?" Mr. Foley asked swiftly.
Selingman's shoulders were hunched.
"Who can tell? Who can tell the thoughts which his brain has conceived? Maxendorf is a silent man. He is the first people's champion who has ever held high office in his country. You see, he has the gifts which no one can deny. He moves forward to whatever place he would occupy, and he takes it. He is in politics as I in literature."