“Now, Edestone,” he turned to the inventor, “you know me, and I’m not much for beating about the bush. When I want something, my motto is, ‘Go to it.’ My object in inviting you here to meet these gentlemen tonight was to see if we can’t get together. As I understand the situation, Jack, you have something that you think is pretty good. You have lots of money, and you don’t want to sell it. You don’t have to, but you want to get England to use it, and if she won’t, you will try Germany. Now is not that just about the size of it?” “To a certain extent, yes,” replied Edestone. “Then why in the name of common sense don’t you let ‘Lord Denton’ and me have it and we will guarantee to have it used where it will do the most good. He has more pull with the Government than any man in England. I think you know pretty well now who he is,” he added with a wink. “If it is the war you want stopped, he is the best man outside of the King or Kaiser.” “Well, yes, Mr. Rebener,” said Edestone, “I do know who ‘Lord Denton’ is and had the pleasure of seeing him this afternoon at Buckingham Palace, but I thought perhaps he would prefer that I should preserve his incognito and, following the example of his most charming Duchess, permitted myself to forget. I shall be most happy to----” He halted and turned as a waiter stepped up behind his chair to interrupt him. “I beg pardon, sir, but the Marquis of Lindenberry wishes to speak to you on the telephone. “I am sorry, sir, but you will have to go to the booth in the room behind the stairs. Mr. Rebener’s telephone is out of order.” “What do you mean, ‘my telephone is out of order’?” Rebener glanced up sharply. “I used it not twenty minutes ago.” And going into the adjoining room he tried to speak to the floor switchboard. “The fellow’s right,” he admitted on returning to the table. “You’ll have to use the booth, Jack. Waiter, show Mr. Edestone where to go.” “This way, sir,” said the waiter, and he conducted Edestone down the long corridor, passing one of Captain Bright’s cavalrymen at almost every turn. Just around the foot of the stairs the waiter showed him a door. “There it is, sir,” he pointed. Edestone went in and found himself in a room that was almost dark. It was lighted only by a shaded electric bulb used by the man at the switchboard, who sat facing the door but hidden from anyone entering by the high instrument in front of him. Edestone walked over to him, finding him almost obscured by the huge green shade pulled down over his eyes, and seemingly very much occupied with both incoming and outgoing calls. “Is there a call for Mr. Edestone?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” said the man without looking up from his plugs. “The second booth from this end, No. 2.”