“I was afraid, sir,” he said, with the state due to the serious nature of the facts, “that Mr. Lindau had given Mr. Dryfoos offence by some of his questions at the dinner-table last night.”

“Perfect red rag to a bull,” Fulkerson put in; and then he wanted to withdraw his words at the colonel’s look of displeasure.

“I have no reflections to make upon Mr. Landau,” Colonel Woodburn continued, and Fulkerson felt grateful to him for going on; “I do not agree with Mr. Lindau; I totally disagree with him on sociological points; but the course of the conversation had invited him to the expression of his convictions, and he had a right to express them, so far as they had no personal bearing.”

“Of course,” said Fulkerson, while Miss Woodburn perched on the arm of her father’s chair.

“At the same time, sir, I think that if Mr. Dryfoos felt a personal censure in Mr. Lindau’s questions concerning his suppression of the strike among his workmen, he had a right to resent it.”

“Exactly,” Fulkerson assented.

“But it must be evident to you, sir, that a high-spirited gentleman like Mr. March—­I confess that my feelings are with him very warmly in the matter—­could not submit to dictation of the nature you describe.”

“Yes, I see,” said Fulkerson; and, with that strange duplex action of the human mind, he wished that it was his hair, and not her father’s, that Miss Woodburn was poking apart with the corner of her fan.

“Mr. Lindau,” the colonel concluded, “was right from his point of view, and Mr. Dryfoos was equally right.  The position of Mr. March is perfectly correct—­”

His daughter dropped to her feet from his chair-arm.  “Mah goodness!  If nobody’s in the wrong, ho’ awe you evah going to get the mattah straight?”

“Yes, you see,” Fulkerson added, “nobody can give in.”

“Pardon me,” said the colonel, “the case is one in which all can give in.”

“I don’t know which ’ll begin,” said Fulkerson.

The colonel rose.  “Mr. Lindau must begin, sir.  We must begin by seeing Mr. Lindau, and securing from him the assurance that in the expression of his peculiar views he had no intention of offering any personal offence to Mr. Dryfoos.  If I have formed a correct estimate of Mr. Lindau, this will be perfectly simple.”

Fulkerson shook his head.  “But it wouldn’t help.  Dryfoos don’t care a rap whether Lindau meant any personal offence or not.  As far as that is concerned, he’s got a hide like a hippopotamus.  But what he hates is Lindau’s opinions, and what he says is that no man who holds such opinions shall have any work from him.  And what March says is that no man shall be punished through him for his opinions, he don’t care what they are.”

The colonel stood a moment in silence.  “And what do you expect me to do under the circumstances?”

“I came to you for advice—­I thought you might suggest——?”