Lovelace sighed. 'Yes, it was pretty grim.'
'Well, some of 'em got together. They watched the Versailles Treaty in the making. Like a few of the more intelligent diplomats of the old school, who weren't allowed to have a say, they felt that it was an instrument of vengeance which must lead to further war instead of a step towards a permanent peace. They had no faith in Governments, either Democratic or run by some big political boss. They'd been let down too badly, and they saw the best of Governments were only puppets pushed and tricked into acting on the will of ignorant multitudes. The people; who are swayed first one way and then another. A dozen of those embittered men met constantly. In private they surveyed the whole situation with the logical cynicism engendered by their wrecked lives and cheated youth. They came to the conclusion that there was only one way to stop future wars: to declare war themselves on the men who stir the multitudes to demand that their Government shall take action: the men who sit behind it all and reap the benefits of war'
'But surely you're too young to have been at Oxford just after the after; ' Lovelace cut in with a puzzled frown.
`Oh yes. I was only speaking of the origin of the society. There are branches of it in a dozen Universities now. It's become international, and I became a recruit, through my tutor, at Yale.'
`I see, and what have the Millers of God done so far?'
`Well, the Mills of God grind slowly, you know, even if they grind exceeding small. Still, we've a certain amount to show. Each of us is prepared to use every penny we possess, if necessary, and all the influence we've got, to preserve peace. The Neutrality Bill has been put through in this country largely through our efforts. There's not a great deal in that. It's only an example which we hope other nations will follow. Then, much more important, there is the new law that all armament factories are to become the property of the State. That is a great step forward because it cuts the throat of the munitions racket at all events here.
'Yes, and there is a real hope that other countries may follow your lead there, even if their obligations prevent them going permanently neutral. There's nothing to stop them controlling armaments, except the armament people.'
'Ah, there you have it. That brings me to the grimmer side of our organization. If, after due investigation has been made, it's proved beyond doubt that a certain individual is actively working against the maintenance of peace, sentence is passed on him, and one of us undertakes the execution of that sentence.'
`Have there . . .' Lovelace hesitated a second 'have there been many cases like that?'
`Quite a number. The first was Eberheim, the nickel man. He played a big part behind the scenes in inciting the Greeks to try and mop up all that was left of Turkey after the Armistice. One day he disappeared from his headquarters in Smyrna and he's never been heard of since. Then there was a fellow called Pirradow. He was in oil, and he died suddenly on the way out to make new contracts with the Bolivians during their scrap with
Paraguay after he'd been warned to stay at home.' Christopher Penn fiddled nervously with the stem of his glass as he spoke. It held only water yet, judging from his flushed face, he might well have been drinking heavily of the potent wine. His dark eyes glittered like those of a fanatic as he went on. 'Rechmanitz was another. One of his own hand grenades went off unexpectedly, just as he was getting in his car one day to go off and do a demonstration for the benefit of a Japanese buyer whose employers were anxious to blow the guts out of a few more poor devils in China. Verdino is supposed to have broken his neck in a fall. Dowling was found dead in his bath. Olagnoff was drowned at sea.'
`I must confess,' Lovelace interrupted, `that I've never heard of any of these people.'
The younger man shrugged. `That's hardly surprising. The enemy work together you know. In a loose sort of way theirs is an organization as well, and their power over the world Press is enormous. They suppress all but the barest mention of these “accidents”, as far as they can. They're getting a bit rattled now, though, and we're picking off the worst of them one by one.'
Lovelace thoughtfully fingered his little moustache. 'Then what it comes to is this. Your organization is actually perpetrating a series of murders. It is murder. You can't get away from that.'
`Well, what if it is?' Christopher Penn suddenly stood up. `That's the fault of our law which executes a poor devil who's too drunk to know what he's doing when he kills another in a brawl, and yet gives these arch murderers, who deliberately ferment mass slaughter, its protection. Call it murder if you like, but no executions according to the law of any state have ever been ordered for the protection of human life with more justice.'
`My dear fellow, I agree with you in theory. It's the practical part which revolts me personally. That's against all reason, perhaps, but it s a fact, and as a decent man f believe at heart you must feel the same. l understand your using all your influence to support your organization's political moves, and even issuing warnings or threats on their behalf, as you did a few hours ago to that man Benyon, but if they actually picked on you to hunt a man down and kill him, I don't believe your conscience would allow you to go through with it
'It would. If I failed to carry out my pledge, and all the others failed too, new wars would break out that would take either us or our children. We've got to stop it somehow! Isolation's no good. The League’s no good. Ours is the only way, and we must not falter.' Penn's mouth tightened for a moment and then he suddenly cried: 'I had my notification yesterday. It’s horrible, isn't it? Horrible, but I’ve got to commit murder
The door had opened. The girl of the photo stood on its threshold. Her eyes were wide and staring. You commit murder she stammered `Oh. Christopher what do you mean.
3
Valerie Lorne takes a hand
Sir Anthony Lovelace stared at the girl. He had been right, her hair was chestnut, and her eyes were grey.
After her first exclamation she recovered almost instantly, and stepped firmly into the room. `What did you mean, Christopher, when you said you had got to commit murder?'
`Darling, I'm sorry sorry if I scared you; but you took us rather by surprise.' He waved a hand towards his guest. `This is Sir Anthony Lovelace. Lovelace, my fiancé, Valerie Lorne.'
As she acknowledged the introduction Lovelace thought her eyes showed a sudden flicker of interest, but she turned abruptly to her fiancé. `I let myself in and I quite thought you were alone.'
`That's all right, sweet,' said Christopher swiftly. `Until I heard your plane come over I didn't think you'd be back before tomorrow, but I meant to call you later. Let's go into the other room.'
They followed her out across the hall to the book lined sitting room. Christopher shut the door behind him. `It's come,' he said facing her. 'Somehow I never thought they'd select me; but they have. It came yesterday morning.'
`You mean the thing you told me of when we became engaged?' She lit a cigarette and Lovelace gave her full marks for the hold she was keeping on herself. Christopher nodded.
`Well,' she appeared to consider for a moment. `That's pretty hard on both of us: but if you've got to, it will not be murder.'