"But it was never used. What he did say was, 'I believe in the Word.'"
"Ah—the 'Word'—'I believe in the Word.' Quite so. Hardly so effective. Everybody has believed in the 'Word' since the time of Moses. But the 'sword,' it takes a big man just now—just at the moment—to believe in the sword."
"He doesn't believe in it, that's the whole point." Helen's voice grew a little strained. "It's a mistake, just a ghastly mistake. On no account, he says, must the speech be circulated. It will do so much harm, not only in this country, but in America, where he has so many friends."
"So many friends in America. How interesting!" Again the head of the good boy received a gentle, fatherly pat.
"Don't you see—that a speech like that—may undo a reputation—a reputation that it has taken years—years—to build up?"
"You think so?" The soul of a courtier was in the throbbing warmth of that faint whisper. "Well, you are always right." What in the mouth of any one else would have been a gross compliment became in that of the Colossus a sober presentment of fact.
"It is of vital importance that the speech, at any rate the U. P. version, shall not appear in to-morrow's Planet or Mercury."
"Quite." Mr. Hartz nodded indulgently. "One ap-
