“But what can the Japs really do to us?” questioned Lois. “They could not hope to conquer this great nation.”
“Their hopes, so far, only include dominion over the Pacific Ocean, and to get that they must fight us. Alaska, with its still unexplored and undeveloped wealth, the Philippines, our trade with China, all will be jeopardized,” Patterson declined more wine. “And Japan’s latest diplomatic move, her treaty with Russia, is giving grave concern to European nations.”
“But Russia has always been our friend,” objected Lois. “She would not befriend Japan against us.”
“We have not one treaty with Russia today,” Patterson spoke impressively. “Japan and Russia hope to work their will in China unmolested.”
“You are too pessimistic,” chided Lois.
“No. Americans jeer and laugh at the idea of war with Japan; so did England and France receive the idea of another great European war—and war came, engineered by mighty Germany. The same spirit of German militarism is abroad in Japan today—and the American nation will only recognize it when all our lines of communication to the Pacific are cut, and the fight is on.”
“Hush!” Lois laid a cautioning hand on his sleeve. “Not so loud, Mr. Patterson, the ambassador is listening, and both Mr. and Mrs. Takasaki understand English.”
“People always stop talking at a dinner at the wrong moment,” grunted Patterson, however lowering his voice. “What is it, Charles?” as the butler stopped at his side.
“A letter for you, sor; came special, sor,” and the butler laid a square envelope at his plate.
“Will you pardon me, Mrs. McLane,” Patterson took up the envelope and slit the flap with his fruit knife. “I asked my secretary to send on anything important, as I am expecting”—as he spoke he jerked at the contents of the envelope, which gave all at once and a photograph, face up, shot into Lois’ lap. Finding but a slippery resting place on her silk gown, it would have continued its flight to the floor, but Barclay’s hand retrieved it.