At the end of the year of truce there shall be war between you and me and your people and mine unless before then you shall recognise my independence in due form and my right to create such armaments as I think fit for the protection of my dominions against yourself or any other Power, and unless you consent to restore Olga Romanoff to the throne and dignity which is hers by right, and of which your ancestors robbed her in the days of the Terror. If you do this there shall be peace between us, but if not, there shall be war, and we will fight until the God of Battles has decided between us, and given to you or to me the dominion of the world. Alan’s brows contracted slightly as he read this defiant missive, but there was a half-pitying smile on his lips when he said to the Vizier as he handed him the instructions he had just written-- “I am deeply sorry--sorry for him and his people, and, indeed, for the whole human race--that he has been misled into writing words which in a year’s time will set the world in a blaze. Our reply to this will be written in blood and fire, and the smoking ruins of cities throughout the length and breadth of his dominions. But he has chosen, and he and you must abide by his choice. I cannot believe that he knows what he is doing, and if you are a faithful friend and servant you will counsel peace and moderation.” “My master,” said the Vizier haughtily, “does not seek advice from his enemies; more than ever would it be impossible for him to do so when their lips are fresh-stained with lies.” Alan’s hand instinctively sprang to the hilt of his rapier, and in another moment the Vizier’s life would have paid for the insult, but when the blade was half out of its sheath his self-control returned, and he thrust it back again, saying-- “You are an old man and an ambassador, so you are safe. You shall live so that you may some day find out for yourself where the truth in this matter lies. Who knows but that the Syren may before long put you or your master under her spell. If she does you will drink something from her hand, and when you have drunk it you will have no will but hers; you will obey her blindly, and the thoughts that you speak shall be only those she suggests to you.” Later on that day, when the excitement of the hour had passed, Musa al Ghazi remembered these words, and the strange acquiescence which he had given to Olga’s plans in the saloon of the _Revenge_. If he had remembered it while Alan was speaking, millions of innocent lives might possibly have been saved, and the curse of war averted from the world for many more generations, perhaps for ever. But he did not, and so events took their logical course. As it was, he made no direct reply to Alan’s words, but handed him another paper, saying-- “I have been commissioned also to give you this. The instructions agreed upon shall be obeyed, and now I have only to remind you that you are no longer my master’s guest.”