"And what would you have me do?" Ruxton was smiling, but behind his smile was a brain searching and hungry.
"Do? Ah, that is it." The woman turned swiftly. All her calm had been caught up in a hot emotion. Her eyes were wide and shining as she leant towards him and searched his fair face and dark eyes. "There is peace as you said. But it is only words written upon paper with ink that is manufactured, and by a pen also manufactured. The whole peace is only manufactured. There is no peace in the hearts of the leaders of nations, only hate, which has inspired a passionate yearning for revenge, a passion which has intensified a thousandfold all effort towards the destruction of the hated. Need I tell you of the Teuton feelings? Ruined, blasted as has been that great machine, both military and industrial, there is still the Teuton mind ready and yearning for such a revenge as will stagger all conscious life. Well may the sensitive imagination distort and magnify the threat that cannot yet be grasped. Well may the straining mind contemplate with ecstasy the oblivion gained by those poor creatures on the Lusitania. But for those who would learn, and know, and see, there is a better, braver death to die than the bosom of the ocean can offer. I tell you there is work for every true Briton, man and woman. Work that can offer little else than the reward of a conscience that, maybe, is rendered easy in death. The men who would lead Britain must be men with eyes, and ears, and mind wide open. The time has gone by when England's politicians may sit down in luxurious offices and enjoy the liberal salaries this country so generously dispenses. They must learn first hand of the dangers which threaten these impregnable shores. Impregnable? That has been the fetish which has been the ruin of Britain's national spirit. But I tell you, as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow I can prove to you that impregnability can never again be applied to these splendid shores. Remember, these are the days when victories and destruction are wrought by thought in peace time. The days of simple brute strength have died for all time. And that is why I have travelled far to seek Ruxton Farlow."
"You have sought me to tell me all this that I have thought for months. That I have felt. That in my heart I have known as surely as that night follows day. You have sought me," he added reflectively.
The stranger leant still further towards him, and the man thrilled at the contiguity. So close was she that her breath fanned his cheek, and he found himself gazing into the eager, beautiful eyes.
"And have I not done right? Have I not done right to come to you, who have felt, and thought, and known these things for months—if I can show you even more than in your worst moments you have ever dreamed of?"
It was an intense moment. Its intensity for the man was well-nigh overpowering. Was this wonderful creature some brilliant siren luring him to destruction for very wantonness, or in the interest of others? Was she just as she represented, just an ardent patriot, to whom chance had revealed some damaging secret of his country's enemies, or was she merely a woman endowed with superlative beauty exercising her attraction in those enemies' interests? These things flashed through his brain, even as those feelings of sex stirred his blood and made for denial. For a moment the mental side of him rose dominant.
"You are a foreigner," he challenged, in a voice he hardly recognized as his own.
"I am a Pole."
The admission came promptly.
"You speak English—perfectly," he persisted in the same voice.