Now, the fragmentary message recorded by the wireless gave the clue to the purport of this signal. There had been a great rally of the Fattish Empire, one colony had sent sacks of flour, another black currants, another black men, another brown sugar; all came to the aid of the motherland in her need, all forgot their grievances and vowed that they never would be slaves. In the face of such a demonstration no doubt as to whether the Fattish empire really existed could survive. Men who would not admit black, brown, or yellow men to their clubs welcomed them to their trenches. Such unity, such loyalty, such brotherhood, must lead to victory. But victory was slow in coming and it was becoming difficult to maintain interest in the war, when, suddenly, there burst upon the Fattish public the news that the lost island was responding to the call and even now coming to place its unique powers of motion at the service of the Emperor-King. The miraculous had happened. Once more it was obvious that the right was on the Fattish side. Once more the streets of Bondon were thronged as on the eve of the declaration of war. The map of the world with the red blot made by George Samways was taken down and copies of it were sold for the Imperial relief fund. It was supposed that George Samways, the only hero of the last war, was on the island and had induced it to return to the fold. His downfall was forgotten, his heroism remembered. Ultimus stopped the island and entered into communication by wireless with the Fattish fleet. “Is that Samways Island?” “Yes.” “Is George Samways aboard?” “No. His son and his friend, Siebenhaar.” “What nationality is Siebenhaar?” “Fatter.” “He must be taken prisoner.” “Nonsense. He is an ex-engineer, now a philosopher.” “Fatter philosophers are writing the most scurrilous abuse of the Fattish.” “Siebenhaar has been for the last twenty years on the island.” “Tell him to change his name before landing, or he will have to register.” “We have no intention of landing.” “We did not get your last message correctly.” “We have no intention of landing.” “Don’t understand. May we send a deputation?” Ultimus replied: “I will receive one Cabinet Minister and the most beautiful woman in Fatland. I shall be in the mouth of the river by two o’clock. You had better move your ships and be very careful of the backwash. I understand that the shores of the channel are strewn with wrecks.”