“This must be He,” thought Mr. Lavender, sitting down to listen, for there was something about the gentleman which impressed him at once.  He had very large red ears, and hardly a hair on his head, while his full, bearded face and prominent eyes were full of force and genius.

“It won’t do a little bit, Titmarsh,” he was saying, “to allow the politicians to meddle in this racket.  We want men of genius, whose imaginations carry them beyond the facts of the moment.  This is too big a thing for those blasted politicians.  They haven’t shown a sign so far of paying attention to what I’ve been telling them all this time.  We must keep them out, Titmarsh.  Machinery without mechanism, and a change of heart in the world.  It’s very simple.  A single man of genius from each country, no pettifogging opposition, no petty prejudices.”

The other gentleman, whom Mr. Lavender took for the Secretary, and who was leaning his head rather wearily on his hand, interjected:  “Quite so!  And whom would you choose besides yourself?  In France, for instance?”

He who was walking stopped a moment, again looked at Mr. Lavender intently, and again began to speak as if he were not there.

“France?” he said.  “There isn’t anybody—­Anatole’s too old—­there isn’t anybody.”

“America, then?” hazarded the Secretary.

“America!” replied the other; “they haven’t got even half a man.  There’s that fellow in Germany that I used to influence; but I don’t know—­no, I don’t think he’d be any good.”

“D’Annunzio, surely——­” began the Secretary.

“D’Annunzio?  My God!  D’Annunzio!  No!  There’s nobody in Italy or Holland—­she’s as bankrupt as Spain; and there’s not a cat in Austria.  Russia might, perhaps, give us someone, but I can’t at the moment think of him.  No, Titmarsh, it’s difficult.”

Mr. Lavender had been growing more and more excited at each word he overheard, for a scheme of really stupendous proportions was shaping itself within him.  He suddenly rose, and said:  “I have an idea.”

The Secretary sat up as if he had received a Faradic shock, and he who was walking up and down stood still.  “The deuce you have, sir,” he said.

“Yes,” cried Mr. Lavender and in concentration and marvellous simplicity, “it has, I am sure, never been surpassed.  It is clear to me, sir, that you, and you alone, must be this League of Nations.  For if it is entirely in your hands there will be no delay.  The plan will spring full fledged from the head of Jove, and this great and beneficial change in the lot of mankind will at once become an accomplished fact.  There will be no need for keeping in touch with human nature, no call for patience and all that laborious upbuilding stone by stone which is so apt to discourage mankind and imperil the fruition of great reforms.  No, sir; you—­you must be this League, and we will all work to the end that tomorrow at latest there may be perfected this crowning achievement of the human species.”