“Between England and Germany.”
“My dear fellow, what in the world are you talking of? There’s not going to be any war. Besides,” he smiled indulgently, “suppose there was—what then?”
“First,” said Martin, “you would have given the enemy an intimate knowledge of your trade, which by the way he is even now reporting by every mail to his government”—he was quoting the dictum of a highly placed Egyptian official whom he met at a dinner party in Cairo—“and then you would have to fall back upon Englishmen.”
Mr. Tudsley laughed and rose, so as to end the interview.
“I’ll take the risk of that,” he said easily. “But the immediate question is: ‘What are you to do?’ Have you visited any other firms?”
“Several,” said Martin.
“And what have they said?”
“Much the same as you, Mr. Tudsley, only not so kindly and courteously.”
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Tudsley, shy at the compliment. “I don’t see why Englishmen meeting at the other end of nowhere shouldn’t be civil to each other. But my advice is: Clear out of Hong-Kong. There’s nothing doing.”
“What about Shanghai?”