"As long as you think it does any good," I said, "the Archangel Gabriel wouldn't be able to stop you."
"You don't think it's a good thing to keep people from slaughtering one another? Dear man, d'you appreciate that, if Kitchener and Grey were in Potsdam at this moment with the unconditional surrender of Germany in their pocket, they couldn't get anything to compensate our present losses? There's imbecile talk about security and a 'war-to-end-war,' but you won't have war when people understand what it's like. That's what I'm trying to shew them."
He threw himself back on the sofa and began reading what he had written. I got up to leave, only pausing to give him a message for Mrs. O'Rane. As I closed the door behind me, a taxi stopped at the corner twenty yards from "The Sanctuary" and a man in uniform stepped out and stretched one hand to somebody inside, holding the door open with the other. His size alone, without the familiar mane of yellow hair, identified him for me as Grayle; a moment later Mrs. O'Rane emerged and stood by him under the street lamp at the corner. Bertrand might keep Grayle as far away as the end of the street, but I felt that he had boasted prematurely.
"You'll come in?" I heard Mrs. O'Rane say, as her companion hesitated by the taxi.
"Not to-night, thanks. It's rather late."
I caught a light ripple of laughter.
"You're not getting suddenly anxious about my reputation, are you?" she asked. "You used to like coming in and talking to me; and you know how I hate going to bed. Of course, if you don't want to——"
Grayle opened his case and took out a cigarette.
"That cuts no ice, Sonia," he said. "Good-night and thank you for coming. I shall see you to-morrow."
"I don't think I shall come."