I have studied history, Immelan,
perhaps a little more deeply than you, and I do not believe in
conquests. For the restoration to China of such lands as belong
geographically and rightly to the Chinese Empire, I have my own plans.
You, it seems to me, would make a cat's-paw of all Asia to gratify your
hatred of England."
"A cat's-paw!" Immelan gasped. "Australia, New Zealand and India for
Japan, new lands for her teeming population; Thibet for you, all
Manchuria, and the control of the Siberian Railway!"
"These are dazzling propositions," Prince Shan admitted, "and yet--what
about the other side of the Pacific?"
"America would be powerless," Immelan insisted.
"So you said before, in 1917," was the dry reminder. "I did not come
here, however, to talk world politics with you. Those things for the
moment are finished. I came in answer to your summons."
Immelan raised himself a little in the bed.
"You meant what you said?" he demanded, with hoarse anxiety. "There was
no poison? Swear that?"
Prince Shan moved towards the door. His backward glance was coldly
contemptuous.
"What I said, I meant," he replied. "Extract such comfort from it as you
may."
He left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Immelan stared
after him, hollow-eyed and anxious. Already the cold fears were seizing
upon him once more.
Prince Shan rejoined Nigel, and the two men drove off to Downing Street.
The former was silent for the first few minutes.
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