“I expect he would do it,” Dominey replied.  “He would do it pluckily, whole-heartedly and badly.  He is a type of the upper-class young Englishman, over-sanguine and entirely undisciplined.  They expect, and their country expects for them that in the case of emergency pluck would take the place of training.”

The Right Honourable Gerald Watson stood upon the steps talking to the wife of the Italian Ambassador.  She left him presently, and he came strolling down the lawn with his hands behind his back and his eyes seeming to see out past the golf links.

“There goes a man,” Terniloff murmured, “whom lately I have found changed.  When I first came here he met me quite openly.  I believe, even now, he is sincerely desirous of peace and amicable relations between our two countries, and yet something has fallen between us.  I cannot tell what it is.  I cannot tell even of what nature it is, but I have an instinct for people’s attitude towards me, and the English are the worst race in the world at hiding their feelings.  Has Mr. Watson, I wonder come under the spell of your connection, the Duke of Worcester?  He seemed so friendly with both of us down in Norfolk.”

Their womenkind left them at that moment to talk to some acquaintances seated a short distance way.  Mr. Watson, passing within a few yards of them, was brought to a standstill by Dominey’s greeting.  They talked for a moment or two upon idle subjects.

“Your news, I trust, continues favourable?” the Ambassador remarked, observing the etiquette which required him to be the first to leave the realms of ordinary conversation.

“It is a little negative in quality,” the other answered, after a moment’s hesitation.  “I am summoned to Downing Street again at six o’clock.”

“I have already confided the result of my morning despatches to the Prime Minister,” Terniloff observed.

“I went through them before I came down here,” was the somewhat doubtful reply.

“You will have appreciated, I hope, their genuinely pacific tone?” Terniloff asked anxiously.

His interlocutor bowed and then drew himself up.  It was obvious that the strain of the last few days was telling upon him.  There were lines about his mouth, and his eyes spoke of sleepless nights.

“Words are idle things to deal with at a time like this,” he said.  “One thing, however, I will venture to say to you, Prince, here and under these circumstances.  There will be no war unless it be the will of your country.”

Terniloff was for a moment unusually pale.  It was an episode of unrecorded history.  He rose to his feet and raised his hat.

“There will be no war,” he said solemnly.

The Cabinet Minister passed on with a lighter step.  Dominey, more clearly than ever before, understood the subtle policy which had chosen for his great position a man as chivalrous and faithful and yet as simple-minded as Terniloff.  He looked after the retreating figure of the Cabinet Minister with a slight smile at the corner of his lips.