"Your name is Robert Nancarrow?" The words came suddenly, not in the
form of a question, but as an assertion.
The voice was light, almost thin; the eyes were the eyes of a
commander; the face, to Bob, suggested weakness.
He spoke English almost as an Englishman might; there was scarcely the
suggestion of a German accent.
"Yes, sir," was Bob's reply.
"You are under General Fortescue, and to-night were placed on outpost
duty. By your quick, decisive action you gave your men alarm and
frustrated the plans of those you call your enemy?"
"I'm very proud to think so, sir," replied Bob.
Again those piercing eyes rested on him. Bob felt a shiver run down
his spine as he saw them. Evidently the man at the desk was reading
him like an open book; he was estimating his quality--his position.
"You wear a lieutenant's uniform, I see?"
"Yes, sir."
"Were you trained as a soldier?"
"No, sir."
"How long have you been in the Army?"
"Only a few weeks, sir."
"And yet they made you a lieutenant?" and the suggestion of a smile
passed his lips--a smile that was almost a sneer.
"You may know, sir," said Bob, "that in England we have what is called
an 'Officers Training Corps'; men who join that corps do not
necessarily go into the Army, but they join it so that in time of need
officers may be forthcoming. When I was at school at Clifton, I joined
the Officers' Training Corps, and qualified. That accounts for what
would seem a rapid promotion."
"I see; and you come from what is called a good family in England, I
suppose?"
"I can claim to have that honour, sir," and again the lonely figure was
silent, and appeared to be reexamining the papers before him. His face
was still in the shade, but, as far as Bob could judge, he appeared to
be thinking deeply. "Who is he, and what does he want with me, I
wonder?" he reflected. "I am nobody; why have I been treated in this
wonderful fashion?"
"You Englishmen think you are winning in this war, I suppose?"
Again the words came suddenly, and still in the same, almost light,
weak voice.
"We do not think, sir--we are sure."
"Ah, how? why?"
For a moment Bob felt afraid to speak; the silence of the room, save
for the ticking of the little clock, and the occasional rustle of
papers, together with the experiences through which he had been
passing, almost unnerved him; besides, there was something uncanny,
almost ghostly, about the silent, lonely figure there.
"You would have me speak freely, sir?"
"I command you to do so."
"We shall win, sir, because God is always on the side of right."
"God! Do you believe in God?"
"I believe in nothing else so much."
"Right! Then you think you are in the right?"
"What doubt can there be? We stand for liberty against tyranny; for
faithfulness to our promises; but, more than all, we stand for peace
against war,--that is why God will be on our side."
Again the lonely figure looked at Bob intently; the young man's words
seemed to have caused him some surprise.
"Nonsense!" he said presently. "I suppose you are thinking of the
Belgian Treaty? What do you English care about the Belgian Treaty?"
"Enough to risk our very existence, sir."
"Come, tell me frankly--of course, you cannot speak for your
statesmen--but do you know anything of the English people as a whole?
I was informed just now that you seemed intelligent; perhaps you are.
It will be interesting to hear what you regard as the general feeling
in England about this war."
"The English hate it, sir--hate it as they hate the devil; they think
it is the greatest crime in history. The English are a peace-loving
people; they want only peace."
"Ah, then they hate this war?"
"Bitterly."
"And, as a consequence, they do not support it."
"On the contrary, sir, never was so much enthusiasm shown about any war
in the history of the nation as is shown about this."
"And yet they hate it. Why then are they enthusiastic?"
"Because they believe it to be war against war; against the spirit of
war; against the doctrines that might is right, and that force is the
will of God."
"How? I do not understand. Tell me."
"Since you command me to speak plainly, sir, I will, and perhaps I can
best tell you what I mean by recounting my own history. My father
belonged to a Community in England who believe that all war is sinful,
and I was brought up to accept his doctrine; he took the teaching of
our Lord literally."
"What teaching of our Lord?"
"What we call the Sermon on the Mount: 'Ye have heard it hath been
said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; but I say unto you,
that if a man strike thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other
also. Ye have heard it hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbour
and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you, love your enemies'; I was
taught to believe that, sir, and to regard all war as a crime.
"For some time after this war was declared I refused to volunteer. I
was trying to be a Christian, and I did not see how a man who wanted to
be a Christian could be a soldier."
His interrogator looked at him, evidently in surprise: "You believe
that?"
"In a deep vital sense I believe it still, sir."
"Well, go on."
"That was why I refused to volunteer for the Army, when Lord Kitchener
sent out his appeal that he wanted half a million men immediately."
"Why have you changed your mind? It might be interesting to hear," and
again there was the suggestion of a sneer in the voice.
"I read some German books, and got to know what the Germans actually
thought; I realised the ideas which lay at the heart of Germany, and
then I knew that if Germany won this war, all liberty would be gone,
all our free institutions would be destroyed, and that the spirit of
war would reign more and more throughout the world. I saw that what to
the Germans was right, was to us wrong; that the Germans' Gospel was
different from ours."
"Different! How?"
"I saw that the Germans gloried in war; that they regarded it as
necessary; that to them those who asked for peace committed a crime. I
heard one of our Members of Parliament say that he had been in Berlin
at a Peace Conference, but that Conference was broken up by the order
of the German Government. I read the works of authors whose words are
accepted as gospel by the dominant party in Germany, I realised the
Germans' aim and ambitions, and I knew that if they succeeded, peace
would for ever be impossible in the world. Then I knew I had a call
from God, and then I no longer hesitated."
"Ah, you are a dreamer, I see. So you joined the Army; but are your
beliefs common in England, may I ask?"
"Throughout the major portion of England they are common," replied Bob.
"The great feeling in the hearts of the English throughout the whole
country is--we must destroy this War God of Germany. Against Germans
as individuals we feel nothing but kindness, but this War God, before
which the people fall down and worship, is a devil."
"And you say that is the belief throughout England?"
"That is so, especially among thoughtful people."
"Then why is it you have so few volunteers?"
"Few volunteers, sir! I do not understand."
"Why is it, in spite of Lord Kitchener's call, only a few thousands of
the offscouring of the country have joined his Army in spite of huge
bribes?"
"Your question shows that you are misinformed, sir. Instead of a few
thousands of the off-scouring, as you call them, there has simply been
a rush to the English recruiting stations; not only of the poorer
classes, but of every class--from our public schools, from the
Universities, from our middle-class families, the flower of our young
manhood have come."
"Do you mean that your well-born people have been willing to join as
privates?"
"I mean, sir, that there are tens of thousands of the sons of our best
families, who have joined, side by side with privates with labourers
and colliers. In three weeks after the call, half a million
volunteered."
"Half a million!" this with a contemptuous shrug, "and what then?"
"The call for the second half-million came," was Bob's reply; "and that
second half-million has responded."
"From England alone?"
"From the British Isles."
"But the Empire as a whole has not responded."
"The Germans thought our Empire was a rope of sand--that it would fall
to pieces at the first touch of war; instead of that, from Canada, from
Africa, from India, from Australia, men volunteered by thousands--by
hundreds of thousands."
"And you believe that these can stand against the Army through which
you passed?"
"I don't believe--I am sure, sir."
"And that is the feeling of your nation?"
"That is the conviction of our nation, sir."
"But do you realise that Germany has millions of trained soldiers?"
"Yes, sir; but every German is forced to be a soldier. We have in
England to-day hundreds upon hundreds of thousands who are soldiers
because they long to be at the front. If a man doesn't pass the
doctor's examination, he is disappointed beyond measure, because he is
longing to fight. Ours is not a conscript army, sir, but an army which
pleads to be at the front."
"You are sure of this?"
"I'm absolutely certain, sir."
Again the lonely man turned to some papers before him and read eagerly.
"And when your first million is killed, what then?" He again spoke
suddenly.
"Another million will come forward, sir, and, if need be, another, and
another, and another. Rather than that Germany should conquer, the
whole nation will come forward--the whole Empire will fight."
"And what have the English thought of the German victories?"
"That they are merely passing phases," was Bob's reply; "but this I
will tell you: the greatest impetus to volunteers coming forward has
been the news of a German victory. Officers have repeatedly told me
that our new volunteers, eagerly do more work in a week and learn more
of the art of war in a few days than the men learned in six months in
time of peace. In England we have no need for conscription, because
the best manhood of our nation pleads to be allowed to fight for the
country."
"And yet the English hate war?" Again there was a sneer in the voice.
"That is why we are eager to fight," was Bob's reply, "and we shall
never rest until German militarism is destroyed root and branch; until
this War God which dominates Germany is thrown down, and crushed to
atoms; until this poisonous cancer of war which has thrown its venomous
roots into the heart of Europe is cut out for ever. We shall never
cease fighting until that is done, and when that is done, we shall have
peace."
Bob had almost forgotten where he was by this time--forgotten the
circumstances under which he spoke, and to whom he spoke; he did not
seem to realise that he was in the heart of the German camp--that he
was speaking to one in high command in the German army; he had got away
from the mere material aspect of the question--he was dealing with
spiritual things.
"And if you win"--and still there was a sneer in the other's
voice--"what do you expect to gain?"
"As a nation, sir?"
"As a nation."
"Nothing, sir; I've never heard of an Englishman speaking of any gain
that might be ours when we win."
"Then what do you suppose will happen?"
"Justice and peace will come, sir; Belgium will have justice."
"Belgium! If she had obeyed our commands, she need never have
suffered."
"But why should she obey your commands, sir? You had promised her
neutrality and independence, and you broke your promise; she had
depended upon you, and you failed her. Then she turned to England, and
England will never rest until Belgium has justice."
"And what is to become of Germany?"
"This is to be a fight to the end, sir; and Germany will never have
power to make war again."
"You would rob us of our country, I suppose?"
"No, sir, we do not want to rob you of your country. We hope that when
the war is over, the German people--many of whom hate war--will come
back to their peaceful life; but we shall never rest until the War God
of Germany is destroyed and is powerless to make war again. That is
why we are fighting, and will fight for the peace of the world."
"But, surely, that is not the feeling of England as a whole?"
"It is the feeling of England as a whole, and we shall never cease
fighting until our object is accomplished."
"And the Kaiser, what think you of him? What is the feeling in Britain
about him?"
"We believe the Kaiser to be sincere, sir, but obsessed with the war
spirit, and that because of it he is full of arrogance and conceit;
many believe him mad--that he suffers from a kind of megalomania.
Evidently he, like the rest of the war party in Germany, believes that
war is a good thing--a virtuous thing, a necessity; and, because of it,
he regards himself as a kind of Deity. We believe that his great
ambition is to make Germany the dominant power in the world, and that
war is the means by which he hopes to accomplish this. That is why we
are fighting, sir--and will fight."
While Bob was speaking, he saw that the other's hand moved nervously
among the papers on the desk; he saw too that he fidgeted uneasily in
his chair, as though with difficulty he restrained himself.
"And you think the Kaiser is responsible for this war?"
"We believe that he has been preparing for it for years. For a long
time we fought against the belief, and a great part of the country held
that those who regarded him as a kind of War god were mistaken: now we
know otherwise. Doubtless, in many respects, he is a great man--a
strong man; but he is mad."
Again the man in the chair started: then he touched the bell, and the
officers who brought Bob there again returned. The man at the desk
nodded to them and they led Bob out. As he withdrew, the last sight
which met his gaze was that of the lonely figure seated at the desk,
his face still largely in obscurity, but the eyes plain to be
seen--light, steely, penetrating--the eyes of a master of men.
A few minutes later Bob heard two of the officers, with whom he had
been previously brought into contact, conversing in their own tongue:
"It was unlike him to give an audience to a subaltern like that," said
one.
"Yes," was the reply; "but he said he was dissatisfied with the reports
of the spies; he wanted to see England's position through English eyes.
I wonder what the young cuckoo said to him."
Still between his guards, Bob walked away from the house where he had
been for more than an hour; he was oblivious of the fact that he was
passed from sentry to sentry, from guard to guard; his mind was full of
the strange scene in which he had taken part.
The figure of the lonely man at the desk, who was thinking and working
while others were asleep, haunted him, and he wondered.
As he came to the tent from which he had been led more than an hour
before, he again saw the officer who had given the command which had
ended in the scene we have just described.
"Whom have I been speaking to?" he asked, as the officer entered the
tent with him.
"Didn't you recognise him?"
"I fancied I did, but I dared not think I was right."
"You've been speaking to the Emperor of Germany," was the reply.
"I'm glad I spoke my mind," Bob said.