"You are an Englishman!"
I laughed.
"Saxon to the backbone," I admitted.
"You would consider it a great cause to save your country from ruin, from absolute and complete ruin!"
"My imagination," I declared, "cannot conceive such a situation."
"A flock of geese once saved an empire," he said, "a child's little finger in the crack of the dam kept a whole city from destruction. One man may yet save this pig-headed country of ours from utter disaster. It may be you—it may be I!"
"You are also an Englishman!" I exclaimed.
"Perhaps!" he answered shortly. "Never mind what I am. Think! Think hard! By to-morrow you must decide! Are you content with your life? Does it satisfy you? You have everything else; have you ambition?"
"I am not sure," I answered slowly. "Remember that this is all new to me.
I must think!"
He raised himself a little in the bed. At no time on this occasion had he presented to me the abject appearance of the previous night. His cheeks were perfectly colorless, and this pallor, together with his white hair, and the spotless bed-linen, gave to his face a somewhat ghastly cast, but his dark eyes were bright and piercing, his features composed and natural.