"I understand," said Margaret. "Have you told me all?"
"About this peril, madame? No, not half. The wreck of the world can hardly be put in a phrase."
"I mean about Mr. Brand's letter. He threatened these terrors unless—unless what?"
"Unless the Queen suspends all relations with Russia. That means war with Europe."
The Queen laughed nervously. "Is Mr. Brand so wicked as all that? Shall we have him beheaded? I've got a headache, and I'd like to have somebody beheaded."
"I wish it were possible," the Chancellor sighed. "Statecraft was so simple, so direct, so easy once. But now——"
"Would Mr. Brand be as fierce if he had to make his threat openly in public?"
"Excellent!" said Ulster. "I could call him to appear at the Bar of the Commons. But that is a last resort—a forlorn hope. There's a gentler way than that. Do you remember, madame, the old Greek myth of Una, who led a lion captive to her beauty. I cannot fight this lion——"
Margaret blushed.
"Turn this gentleman from his purpose. I come to the Queen to confess myself defeated, beaten, humbled, a toothless old man in a terrible mess. Ah, madame, you can hardly know as yet the mysterious power of a woman's beauty."