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Updated: May 6, 2025
Selingman shook his head portentously. "Politics," he declared, "ah! in the abstract they are wonderful, but in the concrete they do not interest me. Maxendorf has come here, doubtless, with great schemes in his mind." "Schemes of friendship or of enmity?" Mr. Foley asked swiftly. Selingman's shoulders were hunched. "Who can tell? Who can tell the thoughts which his brain has conceived?
There must be one word more pass between Maxendorf and me before I hold up the torch." "He's got it," Selingman declared. "The trick is on him already. Maxendorf he shall see. I will arrange a meeting somewhere not at the hotel. Miss Julia, write down this address. This is where we all meet at nine. Half-past six now. I will take you round to your meeting, Maraton. Do you want any papers?"
Unlock the gates without fear, Maraton. Maxendorf will do his work." About seven miles from London, Selingman gave the signal for the car to pull up. They drew in by the side of the road and they all stood up in their places. Before them, the red glow which hung over the city was almost lurid; strange volumes of smoke were rising to the sky. "Rioters," Selingman muttered.
"There is no such word," Maxendorf insisted. "The hearts of our people are close together. Put aside all these artificial ententes and alliances. There are no two people whose ideals and whose aims and whose destiny are so close together as your country's and mine.
Into the salon of Maxendorf's suite at the Ritz Hotel, freed for a moment from its constant stream of callers, came suddenly, without announcement from a place of hiding, indeed Maraton. He stepped into the room swiftly and closed the door. Maxendorf was standing with his back to his visitor, bending over a map. "Who's that?" he asked, without looking up "You, Franz? You, Beldeman?"
"Some part of the genius of your voice shall tremble to-morrow in the genius of my prose. I promise you that. 'Listen, our friend Maxendorf would say, 'to the vainest man in Europe! But I know. No man knows himself save himself. Adieu!"
What if your people should assume the guise of conquerors, should garrison our towns with foreign soldiers, demand a huge indemnity, and then, withdrawing, leave us to our fate? You have no guarantees to offer me, Maxendorf." "None but my word," Maxendorf confessed quietly. "You bargain like a politician!" Selingman cried. "Man, can't you see the glory of it?"
"We shall be away only a few moments. Come." "Where are we going?" Maraton enquired, as they passed through the restaurant and ascended the stairs. Selingman placed his finger by the side of his nose. "A plan of mine," he whispered. "Maxendorf is here, in a private room." Selingman hurried his companion into a small private dining-room.
"I believe you," Maraton said. "Go on. Tell me quickly." "I trusted Maxendorf," Selingman proceeded, his voice shaking, "trusted and loved him as a brother. I have been his tool and his dupe!" Maraton felt himself suddenly at the edge of the world. He leaned over and looked into the abyss called hell. For a moment he shivered; then he set his teeth. "Go on," he repeated.
In ten years' time I tell you that nearly every industry in my country will be conducted upon a profit-sharing basis." "You have brought them to this," Maraton reminded him swiftly, "by peaceful methods." "For me there were no other needed," Maxendorf urged. "For you the case is different.
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