"Germany would be mad to fight us," Wolfenden declared.
"Under certain conditions," Felix said slowly. "Don't be angry--Germany must beat you."
Wolfenden, looking across the street, saw Harcutt on the steps of his club, and beckoned to him.
"There is Harcutt," he exclaimed, pointing him out to Felix. "He is a journalist, you know, and in search of a sensation. Let us hear what he has to say about these things."
But Felix unlinked his arm from Wolfenden's hastily.
"You must excuse me," he said. "Harcutt would recognise me, and I do not wish to be pointed out everywhere as a would-be assassin. Remember what I have said, and avoid Sabin and his parasites as you would the devil."
Felix hurried away. Wolfenden remained for a moment standing in the middle of the pavement looking blankly along Piccadilly. Harcutt crossed over to him.
"You look," he remarked to Wolfenden, "like a man who needs a drink."
"I believe that I do," he said. "I have had rather an eventful hour."
Mr. Sabin, who had parted with Wolfenden with evident relief, leaned back in the cab and looked at his watch.
"That young man," he remarked, "has wasted ten minutes of my time. He will probably have to pay for it some day."
"By the bye," the girl asked, "who is he?"
"So I gathered; and who is Lord Wolfenden?"
"The only son of Admiral the Earl of Deringham. I don't know anything more than that about him myself."
"Admiral Deringham," the girl repeated, thoughtfully; "the name sounds familiar."
"Very likely," he said. "He was in command of the Channel Squadron at the time of the _Magnificent_ disaster. He was barely half a mile away and saw the whole thing. He came in, too, rightly or wrongly, for a share of the blame."
"Didn't he go mad, or something?" the girl asked.
"He had a fit," Mr. Sabin said calmly, "and left the service almost directly afterwards. He is living in strict seclusion in Norfolk, I believe. I should not like to say that he is mad. As a matter of fact, I do not believe that he is."
She looked at him curiously. There was a note of reserve in his tone.
"You are interested in him, are you not?" she asked.
"In a measure," he admitted. "He is supposed, mad or not, to be the greatest living authority on the coast defences of England and the state of her battleships. They shelved him at the Admiralty, but he wrote some vigorous letters to the papers and there are people pretty high up who believe in him. Others, of course, think that he is a crank."