own people . . . whom we trust implicitly. However,"—the intense pain in her eyes did not escape him—"a promise is a promise, even if unwisely given. The U. P. is going to publish Mr. Endor's disclaimer, and if I may say so . . . if I may claim so much for it . . . it is going to have the signal generosity not to divulge the facts upon which, in my humble judgment, it is fully entitled to rely. Indeed, having regard to the special . . . the very special circumstances,"—a note of magnanimity was now in the voice of the Colossus—"I give you my word that the U P. will not put in this very strong evidence on its own behalf unless Mr. Endor should happen to think that an action can lie against it. In that event, of course, I'm afraid it will have to be a case of cet animal est très mechant!"
"What good," said Helen, "can this contradiction do Mr. Endor now? The lie has gone round the world and the truth can never overtake it."
"Lie is a hard word," said the Colossus, softly.
"I must believe the man who made the speech," Helen's voice trembled. "I do believe him."
"We are in a very difficult position, but you can depend on our doing what we can to set the matter right."
"It may be too late," said Helen. "Personally, I feel that it is. Millions who read the original report in England and America will never see the contradiction. A speech of that kind may take a man years to live down."
"Well, well,"—never had the voice of Saul Hartz
