Speke had no such estimate of his own abilities, or at least, if he had, he knew how to conceal it. He talked modestly and well at the dinner table; his conversation was full of inside knowledge, and it had a grace of manner which Edith and the three Miss Whympers admired. He had met the vicar of Penfold before, and rather liked and respected him as most people did; also he claimed him as a distant kinsman, as the Perrys of Molesworth appeared in the Speke family tree. “By the way, Mr. Perry-Hennington,” he said, “I was trespassing in your parish this afternoon. I went to see Gervase Brandon.” “Poor fellow,” said the vicar. “But don’t you think he is bearing up remarkably?” “Quite wonderfully. But he’s a pathetic figure. Six months ago when I saw him last, he was at the apex of mental and bodily power. And now he lies helpless, never expecting to walk again.” “And yet not a word of complaint,” said the vicar. “This morning when I went to see him I was greatly struck by his splendid courage and cheerfulness.” “Truly a hero--and so pathetic as he lies in that room--a wonderful room it is--among his books.” “Can nothing be done for him?” said Lady Jane. “The doctors are beginning to despair,” said the vicar. “Everything that medical science can do has been done already, and there’s no sign of an improvement.” “The higher nerve centers, I suppose?” “So I understand. The mere concussion of this modern artillery is appalling.” “It is amazing to me that the human frame ever succeeds in adapting itself to war under modern conditions,” said Speke. “And the awful thing is,” the host interposed in his melancholy tones, “that there appears to be no limit to what can be done in the way of self-immolation. The chemist and the inventor have only to go on long enough applying their arts to war to evolve conditions which will destroy the whole human race. We live in a time of horrors, but let us ask ourselves what the world will be twenty years hence?” “Don’t, I implore you, Edward,” reproved his wife. “Spare us the thought.” “No, it won’t bear speaking about,” said Speke. “We are already past the point where science destroys organic life faster than nature can replace.” “Not a doubt of it,” said the vicar. “And if we cannot find a means of bridging permanently the chasm that has opened in the life of civilization, the globe will cease to be habitable for the human race.” “Really! really!” said the hostess. “Only too true,” said the host. “There’s hardly a limit to what modern devilry can do. Take aviation to begin with. We are merely on the threshold of the subject.” “I agree,” said George Speke. “The other day, Bellman, the air minister, told me it is quite within the bounds of possibility to drop a poison from the clouds that will exterminate whole cities.” “Which merely goes to prove what I have always contended,” said the hostess. “Sooner or later all nations will be forced into an agreement for the abolition of war.”