“Nor do we on the Pacific slope see the menace you in the east imagine approaching on your Atlantic coast line,” he retorted. “But both are there. The world could not see the invasion of Belgium—but it took place.”
“But the size of our country, our isolated position, in themselves preclude the possibility of invasion,” protested Ethel.
“You are wrong,” argued Patterson. “In the past we have twice been invaded—in the war of the Revolution and the War of 1812; and history is known to repeat itself. Also a nation desiring to hold its place in the world must not close its eyes to what is going on outside its boundaries. Building the Panama Canal has thrown us into world politics. What we have built we must protect.”
“But I fail to see what Panama has to do with Japan,” remarked Mrs. Ogden.
“Do with it?” echoed Patterson, his startled expression bringing a covert smile to Ethel’s lips. “Why, the canal is the channel for our battleships to reach the Pacific, and to protect our interests in the East we must control that ocean. The Japanese are already in possession of islands lying in our line of communication with the Philippines. They are a nation who believe that ‘the Lord helps those who help themselves.’”
Ethel, finishing her salad, suddenly became aware that Professor Norcross was closely studying the ring on her third finger.
As he raised his eyes, their looks crossed, and Ethel felt her color heighten. But the professor’s glance passed on until it rested on Patterson.
“Dwight Tilghman would have supported your theories, Mr. Patterson,” he said. “He had, apparently, a horror of the Japanese.”
“Tilghman! Yes.” Patterson declined the ice offered him. “Poor fellow! His death was a frightful shock to me. I had planned to meet him in Atlanta and missed the train.”
“Was he the man murdered on your train, Professor?” inquired Mrs. Ogden.