The Prime Minister sat jauntily, thumbs in waistcoat, and listened as one interested and amused, but not as yet convinced. To Mr. Trimblerigg he said chirpily, ‘If the other side got wind of this, and used it properly, they could drive me out of office.’ ‘That makes it all the more of an adventure,’ replied Mr. Trimblerigg. ‘I should be in trouble too. The Free Evangelical Church has pronounced against--well, this sort of thing altogether: “Comes of evil”.’ Sir Roland said, ‘In a year’s time we shall have the whole world converted.’ But Sir Roland was always saying that. Still, table-turning and its accompaniments had certainly received a great impetus since the War; for which reason Mr. Trimblerigg took a friendly view of it. The medium’s first remark in her changed manner was sufficiently startling and to the point: ‘Where is my crown?... Put it on.’ Sir Roland resourcefully picked up a small paper-weight, on which a brass lion sat regardant, and deposited it precariously on the medium’s hair. ‘Who’ve you got here? Not Eliza, I hope?’ said the Voice. Sir Roland, in a tone of marked deference, gave the names of the company. Two of them were graciously recognized. ‘Mr. Trimblerigg? We have not had the pleasure of meeting him before. How do you do, Mr. Trimblerigg?’ Mr. Trimblerigg, at a gesture from Sir Roland, bowed over the hand the medium had graciously extended. ‘Do I kiss it?’ he inquired, doubtful of the etiquette. Sir Roland discreetly shook his head. The ceremony was over. There was a pause. Then: ‘Faites vos jeux, Messieurs!’ said the Voice. This was unexpected to all; and to one cryptic. ‘What does that mean?’ inquired Mr. Trimblerigg, in whose Free Church training French had not been included. The Prime Minister rose lightly to the occasion. ‘It means, or it practically means, ‘Make your Peace, Gentlemen.’ Then, to the unseen Presence: ‘The game is over sir,--well over. Now we have only to collect the winnings.’ This statement of the facts was apparently not accepted: the game was to go on. ‘Couleur gagne!’ went the Voice; and then again, ‘Faites vos jeux, Messieurs.’ ‘Our present game,’ respectfully insisted the Prime Minister, ‘is to make peace. To you, therefore, Sir, we come, as an authority--in this matter of peace-making a very special authority. We as victors are responsible; and we have to find a solution. The peace will not be negotiated, it will be dictated. The question is on what terms; under what sanctions; with what penalties? Under a Democracy such as ours--’ ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ came the Voice, ‘Democracy does not exist. Invite public opinion; say you agree; then ignore it, and do as you think best. Sanctions? You will not get good work from a man while the rope is round his neck; he wastes time and brain thinking how soon he will die. Penalties? Yes: if you think you can get hold of the really responsible ones.’ ‘We think we can,’ purred the Prime Minister.