"Nonsense, dear, it may take hours. Besides, I may have some things to say to the President, and he some things to say to me that it were better a sweet girl's ears should not hear----" "That's exactly what I wish to prevent, John, dear," she pleaded. "You must be careful and say nothing to offend the President. It means too much. We must win." "I'll be wise in the choice of words. But you mustn't stay, dear. I'm not a child. I don't need a chaperone." "But you may need a friend----" "He does wield the power of kings--doesn't he?" "With the tenderness and love of a father, yes." "And yet I've wondered," he went on in a curious cold tone, "why he hasn't been killed--when the death of one man would end this carnival of murder----" "John, how can you say such things?" Betty gasped. "It's true, dear," he answered calmly. "This man's will alone has prevented peace and prevents it now. The soldiers on both sides joke with one another across the picket lines. They get together and play cards at night. Before the battle begins, our boys call out: "'Get into your holes, now, Johnnie, we've got to shoot.' "Left to themselves, the soldiers would end this war in thirty minutes. It's the one man at the top who won't let them. It's hellish--it's hellish----" "And you would justify an assassin?" Betty asked breathlessly. "Who is an assassin, dear?" he demanded tensely. "The man who wields a knife or the tyrant who calls the fanatic into being? Brutus or Caesar, William Tell or Gessler? Resistance to tyrants is obedience to God----" "John, John--how can you say such things--you don't believe in murder----" "No!" he breathed fiercely. "I don't now. I used to until I had a revelation----" He stopped short as if strangled. "Revelation--what do you mean?" Betty whispered, watching his every movement, with growing terror. He looked at her with eyes glittering. "I didn't want to tell you this," he began slowly. "I meant to keep the black thing hidden in my own soul. But you'll understand better if I speak. I killed Ned Vaughan with my own hands----" "You're mad----" Betty shivered. "I wish I were--no--I was never sane before that flash of red from hell showed me the truth--showed me what I was doing. We fought in the darkness of a night attack, hand to hand, like two maddened beasts. He ran me through with his sword and I sent the last ball left in my revolver crashing through his breast. In the glare of that shot I saw his face--the face of my brother! I caught him in my arms as he fell and held him while the life blood ebbed away through the hole I had torn near his heart. And then I saw what I'd been doing, saw it all as it is--war--brother murdering his brother--the shout and the tumult, the drums and bugles, the daring and heroism of it all, just that and nothing more--brother cutting his brother's throat----" His head sank into his hands in a sob that strangled speech.