L. P. M. (The End of The Great War) | Page 9

happened. "And they say that you Englishmen have no
sense of humour. The trouble with you though, old top, is that your
joke is so deucedly good that you don't see the point yourself."
They were just passing through one of Rockstone's military camps,
where England's recruited millions were being trained, and cutting
short his badinage Edestone gazed at the scene with interest.
"It does seem a pity that all these fine young fellows should be
sacrificed in order to settle a question which I could settle in a very
short time," he said, becoming more serious.
"Settle it in a very short time?" repeated Lindenberry. "I would like to
know how you propose to do it. I know you are full of splendid ideas,
and invent all kinds of electrical contrivances to do things that one can
do perfectly well with one's own hands. I suppose you would take a
large magnet and with it pull all of the German warships out of the Kiel
Canal, and hold them while you went on board and explained to
Bernhardi and von Bülow the horrors of war, and if they did not listen
to you, you would, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin lead them off with all
the other disagreeable odds and ends, submarines and Zeppelins, to an
island, way, way out in the ocean, where they would have to stay until
they promised to be good little boys?"

"Well, wouldn't that be better than killing a lot of these fine young
fellows you have here?" demanded Edestone, although he smiled at his
friend's fantastic idea.
"You Americans are developing into a nation of foolish old women,"
taunted Lindenberry, "and the sooner that you get into a muss like this
one we're in, the sooner you will get back that fighting spirit which has
made you what you are. You are fast losing the respect of the other
nations by your present methods, always looking after your own
pocket-books while the rest of the world is bleeding to death."
Edestone was thoughtful, and appeared to have no answer for this, and
Lindenberry reverted to his request.
"If you really want to have an interview with Lord Rockstone, Jack, I
think I can possibly arrange it. I will telephone to Colonel Wyatt, who
is on his staff, and find out what he can do for you."
And so they chatted until coming to Grosvenor Square where they got
out of the automobile in front of an unpretentious red brick house with
an English basement entrance, trimmed with white marble and
spotlessly clean.
Lindenberry at once telephoned to Colonel Wyatt, who said that Lord
Rockstone was in and that if Edestone would come around at once he
would see to it that his letters were presented. As to an appointment, he
could promise nothing, but he did say to Lindenberry, not to be
repeated, that the Department was not at that time very favourably
disposed toward Americans.
With his usual promptness, Edestone jumped into his automobile and
started for Downing Street, not stopping even to wash his face and
hands nor to brush the dust from his clothes.
At the door he was met by an officer in khaki, was told that Colonel
Wyatt was expecting him, and was asked if he would be so kind as to
come up to the Colonel's office. There he was told that his credentials
and letters could be presented that afternoon, but there was practically

no chance of an interview, as Lord Rockstone was leaving the War
Offices in a few minutes.
Word was finally brought in that Lord Rockstone would see Mr.
Edestone and receive his letters, but regretted that he would be unable
to give him an appointment, as he was leaving for the Continent in a
few days and affairs of state required his entire time--which translated
into plain English meant: "Come in, but get out as soon as you can."
Shown into a large room, he saw seated at a big desk the man who is
said to have said that he did not know when the war would end, but he
did know when it would begin, and fixed that date at about eight
months after the actual declaration--after millions of pounds had been
expended and hundreds of thousands of English dead.
Cold, powerful, relentless, and determined, Edestone knew that it was
useless to appeal to a sense of humanity in this man who, sitting at his
desk early and late, directed the great machine that slowly but surely
was drawing to itself the youth and vigour of all England, there to feed
and fatten, flatter and amuse these poor boys from the country, and
with music and noise destroy their sensibilities before sending them
across the Channel to live for their