“But I’ve told you; he was tremendously friendly in a national manner.”

“And that seemed to you real?” she asked.

Michael considered.

“I don’t know that it did,” he said.  “It all seemed to me rather feverish, I think.”

“And he asked quantities of questions, I think you said.”

“Hundreds.  He was just like what he was when he came to Ashbridge.  He reviewed the Yeomanry, and shot pheasants, and spent the afternoon in a steam launch, apparently studying the deep-water channel of the river, where it goes underneath my father’s place; and then in the evening there was a concert.”

Aunt Barbara did not heed the concert.

“Do you mean the channel up from Harwich,” she asked, “of which the Admiralty have the secret chart?”

“I fancy they have,” said Michael.  “And then after the concert there was the torchlight procession, with the bonfire on the top of the hill.”

“I wasn’t there.  What else?”

“I think that’s all,” said Michael.  “But what are you driving at, Aunt Barbara?”

She was silent a moment.

“I’m driving at this,” she said.  “The Germans are accumulating a vast quantity of knowledge about England.  Tony, for instance, has a German valet, and when he went down to Portsmouth the other day to see the American ship that was there, he took him with him.  And the man took a camera and was found photographing where no photography is allowed.  Did you see anything of a camera when the Emperor came to Ashbridge?”

Michael thought.

“Yes; one of his staff was clicking away all day,” he said.  “He sent a lot of them to my mother.”

“And, we may presume, kept some copies himself,” remarked Aunt Barbara drily.  “Really, for childish simplicity the English are the biggest fools in creation.”

“But do you mean—­”

“I mean that the Germans are a very knowledge-seeking people, and that we gratify their desires in a very simple fashion.  Do you think they are so friendly, Michael?  Do you know, for instance, what is a very common toast in German regimental messes?  They do not drink it when there are foreigners there, but one night during the manoeuvres an officer in a mess where Tony was dining got slightly ‘on,’ as you may say, and suddenly drank to ‘Der Tag.’”

“That means ‘The Day,’” said Michael confidently.

“It does; and what day?  The day when Germany thinks that all is ripe for a war with us.  ‘Der Tag’ will dawn suddenly from a quiet, peaceful night, when they think we are all asleep, and when they have got all the information they think is accessible.  War, my dear.”

Michael had never in his life seen his aunt so serious, and he was amazed at her gravity.

“There are hundreds and hundreds of their spies all over England,” she said, “and hundreds of their agents all over America.  Deep, patient Germany, as Carlyle said.  She’s as patient as God and as deep as the sea.  They are working, working, while our toy soldiers play golf.  I agree with that adorable pianist; and, what’s more, I believe they think that ‘Der Tag’ is near to dawn.  Tony says that their manoeuvres this year were like nothing that has ever been seen before.  Germany is a fighting machine without parallel in the history of the world.”