"I have a theory," Lutchester continued, "that Fischer was never intended to use more than one of these letters. It was intended that he should study the situation here, approach one side, and, if unsuccessful, try the other. Fischer, however, conceived a more magnificent idea. He seems to be trying both at the same time. It is the sublime egotism of the Teutonic mind."
"It is monstrous!" Pamela exclaimed indignantly.
"It is almost as monstrous," Lutchester agreed, "as his daring to raise his eyes to you, although, so far as you are concerned, I believe that he is as honest as the man knows how to be."
"And why," she asked, "do you credit him with so much good faith?"
"Because," Lutchester replied, "if he had not been actuated by personal motives, he would never have sought you out as an intermediary. There are other sources open to him, by means of which he could make equally sure of reaching the President's ear. His idea was to impress you. It was foolish but natural."
Pamela was deep in thought. There was an angry spot of colour burning in her cheek.
"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Lutchester," she persisted, "that this afternoon, say, when with every appearance of earnestness he was begging me to put these propositions before my uncle, he had really made precisely similar overtures to Japan?"
"I give you my word that this is the truth," Lutchester assured her solemnly.
She looked at him with something almost like wonder in her eyes.
"But you?" she exclaimed. "How do you know this? How can you be sure of it?"