“Where? Show me.” Pomfret’s curiosity was roused. Urban Meyer did not mistake geese for swans as a rule.
“Straight ahead,” said Brandon. “The long, lean, pale man. That’s Murdwell the scientist—Gazelee Payne Murdwell who is giving his nights and days to making a worse hell of this planet than it is already.”
“You know him?” said Urban Meyer.
“He’s a neighbor of mine,” Brandon explained. “Personally I like him, but he won’t bear thinking about. He’s all new and all true I suppose?” He had the air of one seeking for information.
“Sure.” It was Urban Meyer’s favorite word, but it seemed to do the work of many at this moment. “Murdwell’s the problem for the near future. He’s getting through to things that are best left alone. He’s the writing on the wall. The best that can happen to the human race just now is for Murdwell to be closed down.”
The tone had a curious authority. Somehow it made a deep impression on Brandon.
“That man’s intellect is colossal. But he’s on the wrong tack, and I tell him so, as I told Orville Wright when he first said that he was going to fly. The day the Wrights got home with their damned contraption was the worst the human race has seen since the invention of gunpowder; and now Gazelee Payne Murdwell comes along with a promise which it is humanity’s business to see that he never fulfills.”
“But how prevent him?” asked Brandon. “In the present phase of human perversion, Gazelee Payne Murdwell is a prophet and a savior.”
“At this moment,” said Urban Meyer, “there’s just one thing between the human race and Murdwell’s Law, and that thing’s God. And that’s why I venture to hope that the Professor will have to close down. Two years ago I didn’t believe in God, but since then I’ve changed my outlook.” At this point he helped himself to an excellent mousse of ham, and the host ordered a bottle of Pommery. “Since then I’ve been down in the Lusitania, I’ve seen Paris saved for Europe, and I’ve still hopes of seeing civilization saved for mankind. I say this because I feel there’s a God standing behind it and he’s going to see it through. I was born at Frankfort in 1849, and I’ve bled for Prussia at Gravelotte.” The little man drew up his shirt sleeve and showed a deep scar on his arm. “That’s a Frenchman’s saber. I was young then and I loved the fatherland. Even at that time Prussia was the enemy of the human race, but a boy couldn’t be expected to know that and he couldn’t have helped himself if he had. In 1876 I went to New York; in 1890 I became an American citizen; in 1916 I’m a citizen of the world.
“I consider that I have had exceptional facilities for seeing this war impartially, but my nature is to look to the future. I’ve always planned and built ahead. And as I figure it out Prussia is going to be downed and Germany bled white. But take it from me, my friends, it will be a very long and slow process.” There was a slight pause in the little man’s monologue, but no contradiction was offered.