"These are dazzling propositions," Prince Shan admitted, "and yet—what about the other side of the Pacific?"
"America would be powerless," Immelan insisted.
"So you said before, in 1917," was the dry reminder. "I did not come here, however, to talk world politics with you. Those things for the moment are finished. I came in answer to your summons."
Immelan raised himself a little in the bed.
"You meant what you said?" he demanded, with hoarse anxiety. "There was no poison? Swear that?"
Prince Shan moved towards the door. His backward glance was coldly contemptuous.
"What I said, I meant," he replied. "Extract such comfort from it as you may."
He left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Immelan stared after him, hollow-eyed and anxious. Already the cold fears were seizing upon him once more.
Prince Shan rejoined Nigel, and the two men drove off to Downing Street. The former was silent for the first few minutes. Then he turned slightly towards his companion.
"The man Immelan is a coward," he declared. "It is he whom I have just visited."