“There is an undercurrent of feeling somewhere,” the Prince continued,—­“one of the cheaper organs is shrieking all the time a brazen warning.  Patriotism, as you and I understand it, dear friend, is long since dead, but if one strikes hard enough at the flint, some fire may come.  Hesho, how short our life is!  How little we can understand!  We have only the written words of those who have gone before, to show us the cities and the empires that have been, to teach us the reasons why they decayed and crumbled away.  We have only our own imagination to help us to look forward into the future and see the empires that may rise, the kingdoms that shall stand, the kingdoms that shall fall.  Amongst them all, Hesho, there is but this much of truth.  It is our own dear country and our one great rival across the Pacific who, in the years to come, must fight for the supremacy of the world.”

“It will be no fight, that,” the Ambassador answered slowly,—­“no fight unless a new prophet is born to them.  The money-poison is sucking the very blood from their body.  The country is slowly but surely becoming honey-combed with corruption.  The voices of its children are like the voices from the tower of Babel.  If their strong man should arise, then the fight will be the fiercest the world has ever known.  Even then the end is not doubtful.  The victory will be ours.  When the universe is left for them and for us, it will be our sons who shall rule.  Listen, Maiyo.”

“I listen,” the Prince answered.

The Baron Hesho had laid aside his spectacles.  He leaned a little towards his companion.  His voice had fallen to a whisper, his hand fell almost caressingly upon his friend’s shoulder.

“I would speak of something else,” he continued.  “Soon you go to the Duke’s house.  You will meet there the people who are in authority over this country.  When you leave it, everything is finished.  Tell me, is the way homeward safe for you?”

“Wonderful person!” Prince Maiyo said, smiling.

“No, I am not wonderful,” the Ambassador declared.  “All the time I have had my fears.  Why not?  A month ago I sought your aid.  I knew from our friends in New York that a man was on his way to England with letters which made clear, beyond a doubt, the purpose of this world journey of the American fleet.  I sent for you.  We both agreed that it was an absolute necessity for us to know the contents of those letters.”

“We discovered them,” the Prince answered.  “It was well that we did.”

“You discovered them,” the Ambassador interrupted.  “I have taken no credit for it.  The credit is yours.  But in this land there are so many things which one may not do.  The bowstring and the knife are unrecognized.  Civilization has set an unwholesome value upon human life.  It is the maudlin sentiment which creeps like corruption through the body of a dying country.”

“I know it,” the Prince declared, sighing.  “I know it very well indeed.”