Again the War Lord remained in deep thought. "Noah's ark," he demanded after a while.
The Chancellor pulled out a drawer at the side of the Kriegsspiel table. "At Your Majesty's service." The War Lord picked figure after figure, dropping them on the floor, until he got hold of a small white object.
He held it between two fingers, eyeing it curiously; then moved it deliberately across the Channel, holding it aloft, and planted it on the spot marked "London."
"The Dove of Peace," he said; "for in London we will dictate peace to the world. Tell Franz."
CHAPTER XI
THE CROWN PRINCE ON A LARK
A Gallop with the Crown Prince—On the Way to Surprise
Letter of BERTHA KRUPP to FRANZ.
BERLIN, SCHLOSS.
DEAR FRANZ,—When I promised to write, I expected to put a school-girl's ability at composition to the test, being half afraid that my description of Berlin and the Court might not pass muster with so severe a critic as my dear half-brother. But something has happened that makes living in the shadow of the throne and royal intimacies and reviews and State balls, even the Grand Council of the Knights of the Black Eagle, look insignificant.