"It would be a crime of the very first magnitude, that is to say, of the most villainous description, and all the more horrible because it would be committed by people in the highest of places. Really, Niti, it is enough to make one think that there ought to be some higher power in the world capable of making these political crimes impossible. The inner history of European politics--I mean, the history that doesn't get into books or newspapers--would, I am certain, prove that quite half the wars of the world, at least during the period of what we are pleased to call civilisation, would have been avoided if some means could have been found of putting an end to the miserable personal ambitions and jealousies which have never anything to do with the welfare of nations, but quite the reverse. I shouldn't wonder if poor Prince Zastrow has been the victim of something of the sort. It is quite possible that expiring Tsardom had a finger in the pie. At any rate, there was a Russian officer in the Castle the day he disappeared. I should very much like to see the sort of explanation _he_ could give of the affair, if he chose." "But is there not such a power in the world now, Dad?" asked Nitocris, looking across the table at him with a peculiar smile. He looked back in silence for a moment or two. Then he replied slowly: "I see what you mean, Niti. Of course, I suppose we shall be able to read each other's thoughts now, or even converse without speaking, or when we are out of earshot of each other. The same idea came to me while I was reading the account of this affair in the train; but should I, or, rather we, be doing right in interfering actively in the transactions, political and otherwise, of the world--by which I mean, of course, the state of three dimensions? It would be a terrific responsibility. Remember what tremendous powers we are capable of wielding by simply--it is so very simple now--simply transferring our personalities to the higher plane. What if we were to do wrong? We might involve the whole world in some unspeakable catastrophe." "And which do _you_ consider to be the greatest catastrophe, or, perhaps I ought rather to say the greatest evil, that has ever afflicted the world, Dad?" she asked, with just a suspicion of a smile in her eyes, though her lips were perfectly serious. "Oh, war, of course!" he replied, with his usual emphasis when he got on to that topic. "What was I saying only just now about personal intrigues and ambitions that make war? What have I always thought about war? It is the most appalling curse----" "Then, Dad," she interrupted in her sweetest tones, "do you think that, supposing we possess these wonderful powers, they could be better used than in preventing any war which may possibly arise out of this disappearance of Prince Zastrow, and so convincing those who are wicked enough to plunge the human race into blood and misery that henceforth all wars of aggression and ambition will be impossible?"