Van Der Meer grinned. `Is it true that if a chap wants to marry a girl there he has to show her proof that he's bumped off another fellow before she'll have him?'
`Yes, among certain of the tribes.'
`Golly! Did you see anything of that sort when you were out there?'
`A number of old warriors I met had pretty gruesome necklaces, and in some parts it's still extremely risky to travel without a big escort. You see, there's practically no law outside the principal towns, and unless you pay your way with constant presents you stand a good chance of being murdered for your rifle or a couple of dozen rounds of ammunition.'
`You're right, then. The place should be taken over by somebody.'
`I disagree entirely,' Cassel cut in. `Under the present Emperor conditions will improve very rapidly and, if once a white race were allowed to get a grip on the country, it'd be the end of the blacks. They'd be exploited in the interests of capitalism and become wage
slaves in two generations. The only hope for the Abyssinians is to keep the white man out. It's their country and they have the right to do so.'
Lovelace had filled his pipe and applied a match. Little imps of laughter were dancing in his eyes as he looked over the flame at the aggressive pacifist. 'I’m afraid you're wrong there. The greater part of Abyssinia doesn't really belong to the Abyssinians. They only took it over with fire and sword themselves less than half a century ago. It's still peopled by completely alien races.'
For a moment Cassel chewed morosely on the butt of his cigar. 'It's easy to see you're a hundred percent pro Italian,' he burst out.
'No, I'm not, but, if I cared to, I could make a pretty good case for Italy.' Lovelace's sherry arrived at that moment, and. as he raised the glass he added: 'Well; here's fun. Aren't you joining me?'
Cassel stood up and shook his grey head, 'No. If you'll forgive me, I'm afraid I must be moving now. I fear we'd never agree Sir Anthony, but all the same a pleasure to have met you.'
`Same here.' Van Der Meer rose beside him, `I'm with Sir Anthony, though. Let Italy have the place, and anyhow, the League's a washout.'
Christopher Penn had sat quite silent listening intently to the discussion. Now, as the other two moved off, he spoke for the first time since Lovelace had joined his table.
'What a tragedy it is that the League should have failed! Wilson intended. It to embrace every nation on the globe, and now it has shrunk to little more than the old Triple Entente Britain, France and Russia in alliance under another name. When Germany and
Japan left it they put the clock back to 19 14, and if they joined Italy the three would form a block every bit as strong as the old Triple Alliance stronger, since Japan would prove a far more powerful ally than was the case with Austria Hungary.'
Lovelace nodded. `That's so. Half the people in Europe refuse to face the fact that the nations are divided into two great camps. In the event of a blow up some of the smaller states would come in with us, of course, just as they did in the last Great War, but others would remain neutral, and others, again, would be forced to join the anti League block, because of their geographical position. As things are, neither Britain nor France can possibly afford to back the League to the limit. If they did, either of them might get let in for a war on account of some trivial sideshow, which would give the nations outside the League an excuse to combine against them. Whatever happens, we mustn't risk another wholesale slaughter.'
`You think Van Der Meer is right, then, and that as there always has been war in the world there always will be?'
'God knows I hope not, but it looks like it.'
For a moment Christopher Penn did not speak. He was staring across the room with a far away look in his eyes. `There will be,' he said softly, `as long as there are people like the man who is coming to speak to me now. I've been waiting for him.'
Lovelace followed his glance with quick interest. `Who is he?'
'Sergius Benson. They say he's made another couple of million out of this war already.'
Benson was a big, jolly faced fellow with little twinkling eyes. He paused at the table and nodded cheerfully. `They told me outside that you wanted a word with me, Penn.'
`I do. Sit down a moment. This is Sir Anthony Lovelace.'
`Glad to know you.' Benson drew up a chair. `Well, Penn, how's the lovely Valerie? I see she broke another record with that plane of hers the other day.'
`She's fine, thanks.'
`That's good, Now what's the worry?'
'It's yours, not mine, I think.' The grave dark eyes of the younger man's pale face held the other. 'I suppose you're doing pretty well out of this Abyssinian trouble?'
`Sure thing! Long may the battle rage, my boy not that I wish the poor devils any harm, of course, but we'll pay a dividend this year it'll be grand to handle. You'd better get your broker to nail you a wad of our shares before the mob get in. They'll go a lot higher
yet.,
'Thanks. You'd really like to see this war go on, then, and maybe spread to other countries?'
'Well, war certainly is a terrible thing, but it happens to suit my business. It's not our affair if they want to go cutting each others' throats on the other side. Were neutral and we'll keep neutral, so no harm's coming to us. Think what it means to our people! Employment for thousands of extra hands! Big bonuses for all the regular workers! Why, it's the best break my company's had in years. But what are you driving at?'
`I was wondering if you really felt that way; so, well so completely detached. Able to enjoy your profits without a thought that they're the product of human suffering.'
A frown creased the big man's jolly face. 'What the hell's bitten you, Penn?' he asked in a puzzled voice.. 'I'm just an ordinary business man, aren't I? Where d'you get these fool ideas, anyway?'
`From something that happened today,' Penn spoke very quietly. 'Have you ever heard of the Millers of God?'
'What!' Benyon clutched at the arms of his chair and half rose out of it. His face showed sudden intense anger and, Lovelace thought, just a trace of fear. He hunched himself forward and glared into Penn's pale face. 'What the devil do you know of this bunch of thugs who call themselves the Millers of God?'
`Nothing, but it seems that you have heard of them before,'
'By God I have! Rumours, that's all, but nasty rumours. One or two friends of mine have been well, never mind.' Benyon. suddenly banged his fist upon the table, 'Look here, Penn, you've got to tell me what you know of this devilish organization.'
`I know nothing,' Christopher Penn repeated evenly.
'Then why the hell should you mention it after leaving word that you wanted to have a talk with me?'
'Because I was stopped by a stranger in the street to day. He just said: "You know Sergius Benyon. For his own sake give him this message: `The Millers of God are watching his activities. If during the next month the export figures of his companies exceed last year's for the same period by more than 10 per cent. it will be taken as proof that he is amassing riches by supplying material used for the furtherance of mass murder. As an accessory to murder, before the fact, Sergius Benyon will then be formally condemned to death by the Millers of God.'
'Hell!' Benyon slumped back in his chair. A faint perspiration had broken out on his forehead. Ire fumbled for a silk handkerchief and began to mop at his face, then he muttered: `So they threaten me with death now, do they? What else did he say, Penn, what else did he say?'
'That's all. Word for word as near as I can remember. And before I had a chance to open my mouth, he'd disappeared in the crowd.'
`But I can’t go and cancel all my contracts and Benyon suddenly seemed to recover his nerve. `I'm damned if I would if I could, either. I'm not going to be scared into ruining myself to please a bunch of half baked pacifists. If it comes to a showdown I'll be they haven't got the guts to try and do me in.'