Part 25 (2/2)

”There is no 'ought' about it,” I said. ”It is the natural thing to do.”

”You were a soldier once. I think you told me so.”

I nodded.

”Suppose,” said Ascher, ”that this warning had come to you then, while you were still a soldier. Suppose that you had known what your brother officers did not know, or the men under you, that war was coming, you would have resigned your commission. Is it so?”

”No,” I said, ”I shouldn't.”

”It would have been, from my point of view--for I am a coward--it would have been the natural thing to do.”

”It wouldn't have been natural to me,” I said. ”I couldn't have done it.

I don't know why, but I couldn't. I'm not professing to be particularly brave or chivalrous or anything of that sort. But to resign under those circ.u.mstances----! Well, one doesn't do it.”

”Nor do I know why,” said Ascher, ”but I cannot do it either. It is, you see, the same thing. I must, of course, go on; just as you would have felt yourself obliged to go on. The warning makes no difference.”

The idea that a banker feels about his business as a soldier does about his profession was new to me. But I understood more or less what Ascher meant. If he had that kind of sense of obligation there was clearly no more to be said about the point.

”And England?” I said. ”Is she to be in it?”

”Who knows? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I hope not. The disaster will be far less terrible if England is able to remain at peace.”

”Tell me this,” I said, ”or if I am impertinent, say so, and I shall not ask again. What was Captain von Richter doing in Ireland?”

”I do not know. I can only guess.”

”Not buying horses?”

”I do not suppose he went there to buy horses though he may have bought some. He went to see, to learn, to understand. That is what I guess. I do not know.”

”He has probably made up his mind,” I said, ”that in the course of the next couple of months England will find herself with her hands full, so full with Irish affairs that it will be impossible for her to act elsewhere. A civil war in Ireland----”

”My nephew,” said Ascher, ”is not very clever. He may think that. He is, I believe, an excellent soldier. But if he were a banker I should not employ him to find out things for me. I should not rely on the reports he brought me. He lacks intelligence. Very likely he believes what you have said.”

”But you don't?”

”No. I do not. I do not believe that Irish affairs will be in such a state that they will determine England's action. You see I have the privilege of knowing Gorman.”

”You don't know Malcolmson,” I said, ”and he's a most important factor in the problem. He's like your nephew, an excellent soldier, but lacking in intelligence. You don't realise what Malcolmson is capable of.”

”I do not know Colonel Malcolmson personally,” said Ascher. ”I am right, am I not, in styling him _Colonel_ Malcolmson?”

”Yes. He retired some years ago as Colonel of my old regiment”

”Does a man retire from his loyalty,” said Ascher, ”when he retires from his regiment? Will your friend give up his honour because he has given up his command? Will he aid the enemies of England?”

”Of course,” I said, ”if you put it to Malcolmson in that way---- He's a positive fanatic on the subject of loyalty. But he doesn't know, he doesn't understand. He hasn't had the warning that your nephew has just given you.”

”You are an Irishman,” said Ascher, ”and you ought to know your countrymen better than I do. But it will surprise me very much if England finds herself hampered by Ireland when the crisis comes.”

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