“D'Annunzio? My God! D'Annunzio! No! There's nobody in Italy or Holland—she's as bankrupt as Spain; and there's not a cat in Austria. Russia might, perhaps, give us someone, but I can't at the moment think of him. No, Titmarsh, it's difficult.” Mr. Lavender had been growing more and more excited at each word he overheard, for a scheme of really stupendous proportions was shaping itself within him. He suddenly rose, and said: “I have an idea.” The Secretary sat up as if he had received a Faradic shock, and he who was walking up and down stood still. “The deuce you have, sir,” he said. “Yes,” cried Mr. Lavender and in concentration and marvellous simplicity, “it has, I am sure, never been surpassed. It is clear to me, sir, that you, and you alone, must be this League of Nations. For if it is entirely in your hands there will be no delay. The plan will spring full fledged from the head of Jove, and this great and beneficial change in the lot of mankind will at once become an accomplished fact. There will be no need for keeping in touch with human nature, no call for patience and all that laborious upbuilding stone by stone which is so apt to discourage mankind and imperil the fruition of great reforms. No, sir; you—you must be this League, and we will all work to the end that tomorrow at latest there may be perfected this crowning achievement of the human species.” The gentleman, who had commenced to walk again, looked furtively from Mr. Lavender to the Secretary, and said: “By Jingo! some idea!” “Yes,” cried Mr. Lavender, entranced that his grand notion should be at once accepted; “for it is only men like you who can both soaringly conceive and immediately concrete in action; and, what is more, there will be no fear of your tiring of this job and taking up another, for you will be IT; and one cannot change oneself.” The gentleman looked at Mr. Lavender very suddenly at the words “tiring of this job,” and transferred his gaze to the Secretary, who had bent his face down to his papers, and was smothering a snigger with his hand. “Who are you, sir?” he said sharply. “Merely one,” returned Mr. Lavender, “who wishes to do all in his power to forward a project so fraught with beneficence to all mankind. I count myself fortunate beyond measure to have come here this morning and found the very Heart of the matter, the grain of mustard-seed.” The gentleman, who had begun to walk again, here muttered words which would have sounded like “Damned impudence” if Mr. Lavender had not been too utterly carried away by his idea to hear them. “I shall go forth at once,” he said, “and make known the good tidings that the fields are sown, the League formed. Henceforth there are no barriers between nations, and the reign of perpetual Peace is assured. It is colossal.” The gentleman abruptly raised his boot, but, seeming to think better of it, lowered it again, and turned away to the window.