“So ‘Der Tag’ has come at last!” he continued, staring into her face with arrogant blue eyes; “and we are on the eve of great events. I am about to join my Brandenburger regiment—every German is a soldier—we have several hundred reservists on board.” Sophy at last found her voice and murmured: “No doubt!” “I caught sight of Shafto just now. Why is _he_ going home?” “To serve his country.” “Ah, bah! Better stick to his pen; it takes two years to make a soldier; in ten days we shall be in Paris, in a month in London. And why not? You have no army; we are a nation of fighting men, and you are a nation of shopkeepers!” “Of course we are not prepared; we would not listen to Lord Roberts; and, on the other hand, you have been arming and drilling and shipbuilding for the last forty years!” “Ah, well, meine liebe fräulein, we must spread our borders! Who could expect the greatest nation in the world to remain cooped up in the North Sea? We demand and we will have space, power, and the sun. We understand patriotism and the love of country.” “The love of other people’s countries,” interposed Sophy sharply. “You Germans are everywhere—like the sparrows.” “To other nations we bring valuable lessons in industry and Kulture, prudence, thrift, and energy; other countries are only too fortunate to receive us. We have brains, bold hearts, and discipline—and know how to use them. Old Blücher, who won Waterloo, may yet find his aspirations fulfilled.” “Ah, you mean the sack and plunder of London?” He nodded an impressive assent, and then said: “When I am there I shall call on you, and show you my loot!” As he spoke he lent towards her, his eyes exultant, his breath heavy with champagne. Sophy instinctively recoiled and said: “Pray do not trouble.” Bernhard gave a loud, boisterous laugh. “It will be ‘Missy can’t see.’ By the way, talking of loot, do you know that Herr Krauss is dead?” “Dead!” she repeated. “No; I heard he had gone to Java.” “He has gone to his grave. Last night I was told that his body was found floating near the landing-stage at Moulmein; there were no marks on it, no signs of a violent end; and yet he was the last man in the world to commit suicide.” “Yes,” assented Sophy; “he had so many plans and schemes for the future.” “They say a little bunch of coarse black hair was found in his clutch; however, at the inquest they brought in a verdict of ‘Found Drowned.’ It saved trouble. I wonder who will get his money. He was enormously rich.” “With ill-gotten gains.” “Well, he must have some German kin to claim his fortune, and I’ll make it my business to find out all I can when I return here.” “So you are coming back?” “Why, of course—possibly in six months. I leave my house and belongings all standing. Business is but temporarily closed. Burma, as old Krauss used to say, is ‘the land of opportunity.’ When next I see the Golden Pagoda, the whole of this rich and fertile country will belong to _us_.” “You are sanguine!”