"May I remind Your Majesty that Franz is rather a fanatic in religious matters?" suggested the Chancellor.
"I was coming to that," snarled the War Lord—it simply maddens Wilhelm to find that someone, beside himself, has an idea in his head. Whether the religious aspect had occurred to him before we don’t know, but he pounced upon it with vulture-like gusto, adopting it _in toto_ as it were.
"You will say to him: ’Brothers in arms and in faith—the Protestant and the Catholic Church, or the Catholic and the Protestant,’ I don’t care. Remind him that Prussia offered the Pope an asylum before the invasion of Rome by the Italians.
"Yes," he continued, "curse the Italians as much as you like; promise him Venice and the Balkans up to the gates of Constantinople."
The War Lord pressed a button underneath a large table fronting the Chancellor’s desk, whereupon the mahogany top disappeared and another marked off in geographical divisions, representing the map of Europe and part of Asia, replaced it—the _Kriegsspiel_; Europe in battle-array.
The _Kriegsspiel_—War Game—shows the military strength of each country in plain, movable figures, horse, foot and artillery, navy and aircraft—the figures liable to correction from time to time; the exact location of the forces is apparent at a glance too.
The same applies to fortresses, letters designating the origin of the artillery equipment.
Above each country wave its colours in the shape of a tiny silk flag, fastened to bead-headed pins, easy to stick in anywhere.
The War Lord pulled out a drawer and took a handful of German flags, but before using any a new thought struck him.
Adjutant Baron Kast appeared as if catapulted into the room.
"I forget the lettering combination—I want ’k’ for Belgium. You are sure the other equipments are marked according to latest reports."
The adjutant fixed the ’k’ as required and stood at attention.
"I will call in case I need you further."
The officer was drawing backwards towards the door when the War Lord stopped him.
"One second. I want a cross fixed to letter ’k.’"
Kast, a martinet without ideas of his own, a mere _mannequin_ moving on the strings of discipline, looked blank astonishment.
"If it can’t be done, send for the mechanic; he shall fix the new combination overnight."