Mr. Stenson sat down suddenly.

“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed.  “You—­Julian Orden!”

There was a moment’s silence.  Mr. Stenson, however, was a man of immense recuperative powers.  He assimilated the new situation without further protest.

“You have given me the surprise of my life, Orden,” he confessed.  “That, however, is a personal matter.  Hannaway Wells is in the study.  You have no objection, I suppose, to his being present?”

“None whatever.”

Mr. Stenson rang the bell, and in a few minutes they were joined by his colleague.  The former wasted no time in explanations.

“You will doubtless be as astonished as I was, Wells,” he said, “to learn that our friend Julian Orden comes here as the representative of the new Labour Council.  His qualifications, amongst others, are that under the pseudonym of `Paul Fiske’ he is the writer of those wonderful articles which have been the beacon light and the inspiration of the Labour Party for the last year.”

Mr. Hannaway Wells prided himself upon never being surprised.  This time the only way he could preserve his reputation was by holding his tongue.

“We are now prepared to hear your mission,” Mr. Stenson continued, turning to his visitor.

“I imagine,” Julian began, “that you know something about this new Labour Council?”

“What little we do know,” Mr. Stenson answered, “we have learnt with great difficulty through our secret service.  I gather that a small league of men has been formed within a mile of the Houses of Parliament, who, whatever their motives may be, have been guilty of treasonable and traitorous communication with the enemy.”

“Strictly speaking, you are, without doubt, perfectly right,” Julian acknowledged.

Mr. Stenson switched on an electric light.

“Sit down, Orden,” he invited.  “There is no need for us to stand glaring at one another.  There is enough of real importance in the nature of our interview without making melodrama of it.”

The Prime Minister threw himself into an easy chair.  Julian, with a little sigh of relief, selected a high-backed oak chair and rested his foot upon a hassock.  Hannaway Wells remained standing upon the hearthrug.

“Straight into the heart of it, please, Orden,” Mr. Stenson begged.  “Let us know how far this accursed conspiracy has gone.”

“It has gone to very great lengths,” Julian declared.  “Certain members of this newly-formed Council of Labour have been in communication for some months with the Socialist Party in Germany.  From these latter they have received a definite and authentic proposal of peace, countersigned by the three most important men in Germany.  That proposal of peace I am here to lay before you, with the request that you act upon it without delay.”

Julian produced his roll of papers.  The two men remained motionless.  The great issue had been reached with almost paralysing rapidity.