The talk at table in English was grave and copious and informed. In agreeable contrast to the rather embarrassed restraint of eight weeks before, when women were of the company, there was now the freedom usually to be found among men of a like way of thought. The presence of servants in the room acted as a check, it was true. Until they retired it was impossible to approach the real business of that gathering, but the talk, spontaneous and yet weighty, sustained, moreover, by choice fare, did not flag. Endor himself, an accomplished man of the world, felt before this meal was half through that the men about him had a depth of thought, a play of ideas, a range, an authority beyond any he had met with. Had he had a mind at ease it would have been a delightful experience. Here it almost seemed, in the stimulus of the hour, was gathered the salt of the earth. Yet, in spite of the talk, the wine and the food, not for an instant could he forget the terrible problem which confronted him. At the end of the meal, as soon as coffee and cigars had been handed, the servants left the room. The host, thereupon, called at once upon Lien Weng formally to constitute the Court and open the session. This proved a quite simple proceeding. These men, all more or less familiar with the world of high affairs, well understood the valuable art of dispensing with preliminaries. So easy of manner was the President and so adept were his methods that Endor to his deep chagrin allowed himself to be taken by surprise. With sharp annoyance he grew aware that the business was actually under way before he had even begun to attempt to define his own position. It was not a moment for hesitation. At the risk of discourtesy Endor sprang to his feet. “I am truly sorry to interrupt,” he said to Lien Weng, “but before these proceedings are carried a step farther, please allow me to say this. I have come here, not to transact business, but to sever my connection with this Society.” The speech, brief as it was, had the effect of a thunderbolt. Every face around the table was anxious, startled, incredulous. Lien Weng, alone, kept a perfect impassiveness. He lifted his right hand delicately and without a glance at the others, he said in his sweet, cooing voice, “Sir, that is impossible. Believe me, sir, it is quite--quite--quite impossible.” Endor had foreseen even this blunt and final non possumus. It did not deter him, therefore, from stating fully his attitude. He admitted frankly that he had entered into his vows at a time of mental and moral overthrow; but now that his mind was established once more on the plane of reason, he was not prepared to go on with a thing that had lost the sanction of his conscience. “I fear you cannot be allowed to withdraw, sir,” said Lien Weng, softly. “Your vows were made on the clear understanding that on no grounds conceivable must they ever be broken. Once a member of the Society of the Friends of Peace, always a member.”