"The man is dead," he mumbled. "If I am guilty of his death, I want a court, a judge. I will abide by the law----"
But Tanya was slowly shaking her head.
"There shall be no Court, no Judges but those of Nemi. We saw--we know. There shall be no inquiry. Nemi shall bury its own dead, and you, Monsieur----"
"And I?" he asked as she paused.
"You, Monsieur Rowlan', shall be the Head of the Order of Nemi."
"But, Mademoiselle! You don't understand. I am a part of the Armies of Republican France--a part of the great machinery--a small part, lost but now restored to go on with the great task, a free world has set itself to do."
"A great task!" The girl had risen now and caught him by the arm with a grasp that seemed to try to burn its meaning into his very bones. And her voice, sunk to a whisper, came to his ears with tragic clearness. "There's a greater task for you here--Monsieur. A task that will take greater courage than facing the grenades of the trenches, a task that will take more than courage,--a task only for one of skill, intelligence and great daring. Is it danger that you seek? You will find it here--a danger that will lurk with you always, an insidious threat that will be most dangerous when least anticipated. There are others, Monsieur Rowlan', who may be taught to shoot from the trenches, but there is another destiny for you, a great destiny--to do for the world what half a million of armed men have it not within their power to do. It is here--that destiny--here at Nemi and the weapons shall be forged in your brain, Monsieur, subtle weapons, keen ones, subtler and keener than those of the enemies who will be all about you--your enemies, but more important than that--the enemies of France, or Russia, England and all the free peoples of the Earth----"
She had seemed inspired and her eager eyes, raised to his, burned with a gorgeous fire.
"Germany!" he whispered. "Here?"
"Here--everywhere. They plot--they plan, they seek control--to put men in high places where the cause of Junkerism may be served----"