"Just at present I don't think Nature's provided the world with a real heavy-weight," he was saying. "Not the real John Hopley kind, I mean. It takes more than size. You see, it doesn't matter how hard you _could_ hit the other fellow if he gets his in first." "But surely Wells is quick enough for you, isn't he?" said Jack Beresford. His newspaper was on his knee. "Oh, yes, Wells is fast. I'm not saying that speed's everything. But it's nearly everything nowadays, even for a heavy. That's why half these giants would be simply at the mercy of a comparatively light fellow like Carpentier." Over against the window bay a _Globe_ was dropped an inch. Cyril Turner's eye was seen over it. He is in the Home Office, quite high up, and is an untrammeled sort of spirit when he leaves Whitehall for the freer air of Piccadilly. "That's true of other things besides boxing," he interjected. Mowbray turned. "What is?" "What you're saying about weight and speed. Labor's discovered it too." "I don't quite know what you mean, but if I've said something wiser than I intended----" said Mowbray, claiming it if he had. "Well, Labor has discovered it. Look at the way they strike nowadays. The New Strike's as different as chalk and cheese from the Old. Totally different methods--more scientific altogether. Masters and men used to stand up foot to foot like Smithfield Butchers and slog till neither of them could stand. Pure battering-ram principle, and the fellow who won wasn't much better off than the one who lost. But now it's all swiftness and surprise. No warning--just what you'd call a lightning punch where it's going to hurt most and then dance away again. That's why they go for the transport and postal services and all the distributing machinery instead of stopping production. It paralyzes just the same. Solar plexus business. And swiftness is the secret, as you say, not brute strength any more." Another paper was lowered. It was Hay's _Evening News_. Hay is a retired Major of Gunners, and I have bought very good cigars from him and very passable port. "And that isn't all either," he said. "It goes far beyond strikes." "War?" said somebody. Everybody in the Club knows Hay and his talk. Hay nodded. "You'll see where speed comes in _then_--speed and the absence of warning. The nation that can get a thousand bombing-planes into the air first will be able to do what it likes with the others." "Oh, come, Major!" somebody laughed. "That's rather looking for trouble, isn't it?" "No good shutting your eyes to it," Hay returned. "Turner said something about transport just now. They're talking a lot about relieving London's traffic congestion. Well, it wants relieving; but do you know how I'd relieve it? I'd dig new ways ... well underground. Big ones, to hold plenty of people. Tube Stations won't be much good the next time. And I'd start digging them now." "Hay's had a hint from the League of Nations."