“By this token,” said the old man, rising and putting his back to the fire, “that if I even suspected, I’d shoot any one of you down here--now, with as little compunction as I’d kill a dog.” “I’ll have my coffee first,” laughed Byfield, “if you don’t mind.” “Coffee--then coffin,” said Rizzio. “Jolly unpleasant conversation this,” remarked Hammersley. “Makes a chap a bit fidgety.” “Fidgety!” roared the Earl. “We ought to be fidgety with the Germans winning east and west and the finest flower of our service already killed in battle. We need men and still more men. Any able-bodied fellow under forty who stays at home”--and he glanced meaningly at the Honorable Cyril--“ought to be put to work mending roads.” The object of these remarks turned the blank stare of his monocle but made no reply. “Yes, I mean you, Cyril,” went on the Earl steadily. “Your mother was born a Prussian. I knew her well and I think she learned to thank God that fortune had given her an Englishman for a husband. But the taint is in you. Your brother has been wounded at the front. His blood is cleansed. But what of yours? You went to a German university with your Prussian kinsmen and now openly flaunt your sympathies at a dinner of British patriots. Speak up. How do you stand? Your friends demand it.” Hammersley turned his cigarette carefully in its long amber holder. “Oh, I say, Lord Kipshaven,” he said with a slow smile, “you’re not spoofing a chap, are you?” “I was never more in earnest in my life. How do you stand?” “Haw!” said Hammersley with obvious effort. “I’m British, you know, and all that sort of thing. How can an Englishman be anything else? Silly rot--fightin’--that’s what I say. That’s all I say,” he finished looking calmly for approval from one to the other. Smiles from Sandys and Rizzio met this inadequacy, but the Earl, after glaring at him moodily for a moment, uttered a smothered, “Paugh,” and shrugging a shoulder, turned to Rizzio and Sandys who were discussing a recent submarine raid. Hammersley and Byfield sat near each other at the side of the table away from the others. There was a moment of silence--which Hammersley improved by blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. Captain Byfield watched him a moment and then after a glance in the direction of the Earl leaned carelessly on an elbow toward Hammersley. “Any shootin’ at the North?” he asked. Hammersley’s monocle dropped and the eyes of the two men met. “Yes. I’m shootin’ the day after tomorrow,” said Hammersley quietly. Byfield looked away and another long moment of silence followed. Then the Honorable Cyril after a puff or two took the long amber holder from his mouth, removed the cigarette and smudged the ash upon the receiver. “Bally heady cigarettes, these of Algy’s. Don’t happen to have any ’baccy and papers about you, do you, Byfield?”