Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a sudden, sharp, unnatural chuckle. He was smoking when the Light of the World--the whole great world!--was flickering into darkness. Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He pulled him up at once with a few sharp words, for he knew that Spence was close upon hysteria. "From a news point of view," he continued, "we hold all the cards. No one else knows what we know. I am certain that the German papers will publish nothing for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing, and they can have no other source of information; so I gather from this telegram. Dr. Schmöulder will not say anything until he has instructions from Potsdam. That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We shall be first in the field, but I shall still have a few hours to consult with others." He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I wish to see him," he told the boy who answered the summons. A young man came in, the editor of the "personal" column. "Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he asked. "Yes, sir; he's here for three more days." "I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking for an interview in an hour's time. I know he will see me. He knows that I would not come at this hour unless the matter were of national importance. As you know, we are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet just now. I dare not wait till to-morrow." He rapidly wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott Farmer. The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered, smoking a briar pipe. "Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've done your leader?" "Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man. "Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is so important that I do not like to trust any one else. I want you to drive to Downing Street at once as hard as you can go. Take this letter for Lord ----. It is making an appointment for me in an hour's time. He _must_ see it himself at once--take my card. One of the secretaries will try and put you off, of course. This is irregular, but it is of international importance. When I tell you this you will realise that Lord ---- _must_ see the note. Bring me back the answer as rapidly as you can." The elderly man--his name was a household word as a political writer all over England and the Continent--nodded without speaking, took the letter, and left the room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was of supreme importance.