Again the little
mist, the pungent odour. Julian rose to his feet and sat down
again.
"I am listening," he said.
"First of all," began the Bishop earnestly, as he seated himself
at the end of the couch on which Julian had been lying, "let me
try to remove some of your misconceptions. Miss Abbeway is in no
sense of the word a German spy. She and I, Mr. Furley here, Mr.
Fenn and Mr. Bright, all belong to an organisation leagued
together for one purpose--we are determined to end the war."
"Pacifists!" Julian muttered.
"An idle word," the Bishop protested, "because at heart we are all
pacifists. There is not one of us who would wilfully choose war
instead of peace. The only question is the price we are prepared
to pay."
"Why not leave that to the Government?"
"The Government," the Bishop replied, "are the agents of the
people. The people in this case wish to deal direct."
"Again why?" Julian demanded.
"Because the Government is composed wholly of politicians,
politicians who, in far too many speeches, have pledged themselves
to too many definite things. Still, the Government will have its
chance."
"Explain to me," Julian asked, "why, if you are a patriotic
society, you are in secret and illegal communication with
Germany?"
"The Germany with whom we are in communication," the Bishop
assured his questioner, "is the Germany who thinks as we do."
"Then you are on a wild-goose chase," Julian declared, "because
the Germans who think as you do are in a hopeless minority.
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