To appeal to a sense of duty so strong in him as applied to England, was one thing; but to convince him that Edestone as an American had a sense of duty to the nations of Europe was something quite different. This man of steel had no imagination, he was convinced, and to ask him to follow him in his flights would be as useless as to request him to whistle Yankee Doodle.
He had a chance to decide all this while Rockstone, who had risen and received him with courtesy, was reading the letters he presented. The great soldier’s face never changed once as he read them all with care.
“Your credentials are satisfactory,” he finally said, “but I do not quite understand what it is you wish. Your letters say that you do not want to sell anything, which is most extraordinary; I thought you Americans always wanted to sell something.” And his face assumed the expression of a man who, having no sense of humour, thought that he had perhaps made a joke.
“If you have drawings and photographs of a new instrument of war,” he caught himself up abruptly, “I should greatly prefer that you submit these to the Ordnance Department; but since your Secretary of State has been so insistent, I will look at them tomorrow. I will give you an appointment from 9 to 9:15.”
And he rose and bowed.
CHAPTER IV. — THE FIRST REBUFF
At exactly a quarter past nine the following morning, Lord Rockstone with military precision rose from his desk.
“I fear that my time is up, Mr. Edestone,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have enjoyed this opportunity of meeting you and listening to your presentation of your theory. Your drawings are most interesting; your photographs convincing, if—” he paused, his lip curling slightly under his long tawny moustache,—“if one did not know of the remarkable optical illusions capable of being produced in photography. Our friends, the Germans, have become particularly expert in the art of double exposure.”