Sergius Thord sprang up excitedly. “Do that,” he said, “and were you a thousand times more like the King than you are, you shall be the first to command our service and honour!” Loud acclamation followed his words, and all the men gathered close up about Leroy. He looked round upon them, half-smiling, half-serious. “But you must tell me what to do!” he said. “You must explain to me why you consider Pérousse a traitor, and how you think it best his treachery should be proved. For, remember, I am a stranger to this part of the country, and my accidental resemblance to the King does not make me his subject!” “True!” said Paul Zouche,--his eyes were feverishly bright and his cheeks flushed--“To be personally like a liar does not oblige one to tell lies! To call oneself a poet does not enable one to write poetry! And to build a cathedral does not make one a saint! To know all the highways and byways of the Pérousse policy, you must penetrate into the depths and gutter-slushes of the great newspaper which is subsidised by the party to that policy! And this is difficult--exceedingly difficult, let me assure you, my bold Pasquin! And if you can perform such a ‘pasquinade’ as shall take you into these Holy of Holy purlieus of mischief and money-making, you will deserve to be chief of the Committee, instead of Sergius! Sergius talks--he will talk your head off!--but he does nothing!” “I do what I can,”--said Thord, patiently. “It is true I have no access to the centres of diplomacy or journalism. But I hold the People in the hollow of my hand!” He spoke with deep and concentrated feeling, and the power of his soul looked out eloquently from the darkening flash of his eyes. Leroy studied his features with undisguised interest. “If you thus hold the People,” he said,--“Why not bid them rise against the evil and tyranny of which they have cause to complain?” Thord shook his head. “To rouse the People,” he replied, “would be worse than to rouse a herd of starving lions from their forest dens, and give them freedom to slay and devour! Nay!--the time is not yet! All gentle means must be tried; and if these fail--why then--!” He broke off, but his clenched hand and expressive glance said the rest. “Why do you not use the most powerful of all the weapons ever invented for the destruction of one’s enemies--the Pen?” asked Max Graub. “Start a newspaper, for example, and gibbet your particular favourite Carl Pérousse therein!” “Bah! He would get up a libel case, and advertise himself a little more by that method!” said Zegota contemptuously; “And besides, a newspaper needs unlimited capital behind it. We have no rich friends.”