“Eh, what!” said Sprengel, turning more fully on the other. “What you say? England at war with Germany!”
“England at war with Germany. Yes. That is what I said, and I have come to take your island in the name of the British government.”
Sprengel sat down in a chair and mopped himself. Sprengel had been practically monarch of Christobal for a long time.
And now the English had come.
It was an eventuality he had always feared, always reckoned with. He knew that war was in the air. He also knew international law, and he was not so much put out as might have been expected.
Indeed, he was frankly impudent.
“Well, I did not make the war,” said he. “I am an honest trader going about my business. If Christobal is English—well, it cannot be helped—till we take it back from England. I claim the rights of international law. My property is sacred.”
“International law, what is that?” asked Blood.
“Something you would not understand, but which your peddling government fears and respects. Something which they would like to put to one side, but which they cannot.”
“Oh, can’t they? Do you mean to imply that your property can’t be touched because of international law?”