Grant was conscious of a queer presentiment as he stopped to speak with Cornelius Blunn on the first day out from Southampton. Blunn was occupying his usual suite and was lying in splendid isolation in his own little portion of the deck. He had come on board the day before, to all appearance his usual self. Now, within twenty-four hours, he was again writhing in misery. There was something in his look of misery, as he glanced up at Grant, which touched the latter.
“Sit down and talk to me for a minute, my young enemy,” he invited. “The doctor tries to tell me that part of this seasickness is nervousness. One should seek distraction, he says. Tell me how you succeeded in London.”
“Admirably,” Grant replied, accepting his invitation. “But I’m not going to cure your seasickness by telling you my secrets.”
Cornelius Blunn smiled faintly.
“You’re a nice lad,” he said. “Pity you aren’t a German. I’d have made a great man of you.”
“I am very glad I am not a German.”
“Why?”
Grant shrugged his shoulders.
“Well,” he pointed out, “of course every nation has its characteristics, bad and good. Your people are industrious, domesticated, subject to discipline, and full of courage. On the other hand they are the most egregiously selfish and egotistical race upon the face of the earth. It is Germany first, and let any one else exist that may. That is what I don’t like about your people.”
Cornelius Blunn did not reply for a moment.
“It may seem so to the world,” he conceded presently. “You see we are a nation of individualists.”
“Why are you alone?” Grant enquired, after a moment’s pause.
The troubled look returned to Blunn’s face.
“A chapter of accidents has befallen me,” he explained. “Muller, my body servant, and Felix, my secretary, who came over with me, missed the boat at Southampton. Both were executing commissions for me late in London, and I sent them down by car. They had an accident, twelve miles from Guildford, and both were too injured to continue the journey. The steward does his best, but I am not used to being alone. If any other boat could have got me over in time for the Conference, where my presence in an advisory capacity is required, I should have postponed my departure.”
Grant murmured a few words of sympathy and presently departed. On the deck he met Lord Yeovil, with whom he turned and walked.
“Blunn seems to be quite ill,” he confided.
“Unfortunately men do not die of seasickness,” the other rejoined. “It sounds a brutal thing to say, I suppose, but, in my opinion, it would be a great benefit to the world if Blunn were to be removed from it. I have come to the conclusion within the last few weeks, Slattery, that, more than any other man living, Cornelius Blunn represents the spirit of warfare and unrest. He is the personification of all that is evil in the German system. I can quite believe your story that he carries with him day and night a famous letter of hate, inscribed by his father on his deathbed. He not only carries the letter, but he carries the spirit.”
“One is so often tempted to like the man,” Grant remarked. “And yet I know that you’re right. If all that we suspect of his domestic intrigues in America is true, he is a very terrible person. I hope Lady Susan is keeping well. I haven’t seen her about.”
“She is playing deck tennis forward,” her father replied. “A pleasant game but a trifle energetic for this warm weather. Lutrecht and his faithful henchman, Von Diss, are playing ecarte in the smoke room. Did you know, Slattery, that Von Diss was to be one of the German entourage?”
“I had no idea of it,” Grant answered hastily and with perfect truth. “I met the Princess in Bond Street the day before we sailed and she told me that her husband was arriving in London that afternoon. She gave me no idea that it was for the purpose of proceeding to the States or that she was ac............