“But I am not so unreasonable,” he objected.  “Just one word—­so?  Very well, then,” he proceeded quickly, with the air of one fearing interruption.  “This must be clear to you, Mr. Mangan.  I am a German by birth, naturalised in England for the sake of my business, loving Germany, grateful to England.  One third of my life I have lived in Berlin, one third at Forest Hill here in London, and in the city, one third in Africa.  I have watched the growth of commercial rivalries and jealousies between the two nations.  There is no need for them.  They might lead to worse things.  I would brush them all away.  My aim is to encourage a league for the promotion of more cordial social and business relations between the people of Great Britain and the people of the German Empire.  There!  Have I wasted much of your time?  Can I not speak of my hobby without a flood of words?”

“Conciseness itself,” Mangan admitted, “and I compliment you most heartily upon your scheme.  If you can get the right people into it, it should prove a most valuable society.”

“In Germany I have the right people.  All Germans who live for their country and feel for their country loathe the thought of war.  We want peace, we want friends, and, to speak as man to man,” he concluded, tapping the lawyer upon the coat sleeve, “England is our best customer.”

“I wish one could believe,” the latter remarked, “that yours was the popular voice in your country.”

Seaman rose reluctantly to his feet.

“At half-past two,” he announced, glancing at his watch, “I have an appointment with a woollen manufacturer from Bradford.  I hope to get him to join my council.”

He bowed ceremoniously to the lawyer, nodded to Dominey with the familiarity of an old friend, and made his bustling, good-humoured way out of the room.

“A sound business man, I should think,” was the former’s comment.  “I wish him luck with his League.  You yourself, Sir Everard, will need to develop some new interests.  Why not politics?”

“I really expect to find life a little difficult at first,” admitted Dominey, with a shrug of his shoulders.  “I have lost many of the tastes of my youth, and I am very much afraid that my friends over here will call me colonial.  I can’t fancy myself doing nothing down in Norfolk all the rest of my days.  Perhaps I shall go into Parliament.”

“You must forgive my saying,” his companion declared impulsively, “that I never knew ten years make such a difference in a man in my life.”

“The colonies,” Dominey pronounced, “are a kill or cure sort of business.  You either take your drubbing and come out a stronger man, or you go under.  I had the very narrowest escape from going under myself, but I just pulled together in time.  To-day I wouldn’t have been without my hard times for anything in the world.”

“If you will permit me,” Mr. Mangan said, with an inherited pomposity, “on our first meeting under the new conditions, I should like to offer you my hearty congratulations, not only upon what you have accomplished but upon what you have become.”