"Julian Orden," he said, "is my godson."
"Necessity knows neither friendship nor relationship," Fenn
pronounced didactically. "Better ask no questions, sir. These
details do not concern you."
"They concern my conscience," was the grave reply. "Ours is an
earnest spiritual effort for peace, a taking away from the hands
of the politicians of a great human question which they have
proved themselves unable to handle. We should look, therefore,
with peculiar care to the means we adopt."
Nicholas Fenn nodded. He lit a very pungent cigarette from a
paper packet by his side.
"You and I, Bishop," he said, "are pacifists in the broadest
meaning of the word, but that does not mean that we may not
sometimes have to use force to attain our object. We have a
department which alone is concerned with the dealing of such
matters. It is that department which has undertaken the
forwarding and receipt of all communications between ourselves and
our friends across the North Sea. Its operations are entirely
secret, even from the rest of the Council. It will deal with
Julian Orden. It is best for you not to interfere, or even to
have cognisance of what is going on."
"I cannot agree," the Bishop protested. "An act of unchristian
violence would be a flaw in the whole superstructure which we are
trying to build up."
"Let us discuss some other subject," Fenn proposed.
"Pardon me," was the firm reply. "I have come here to discuss
this one."
Nicholas Fenn looked down at the table.
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