Chapter XII.

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      I went to see Kwang in the afternoon, and found him in a state of suppressed excitement—at least I could not help having that impression. After a little time, when I had given him some brief account of my experience at the dinner-party, he said, “I told you the other day that I had some thoughts of returning home. I shall be off in a fortnight.”

      “This is rather sudden,” I said; “have you received bad news from home?”

      “No,” he said; “I told you I had practically completed my work. The fact is, that things are beginning to develop rather fast here. I see signs of preparation for a ‘forward move.’”

      “Oh!” I said. “Not another war?”

      “Not necessarily,” he replied. “Light your cigar and I will tell you all you need know.” I did so and waited.

      “The next war,” he said, “will be a chemical war.”

      “A chemical war? What on earth is that?” I said.

      “They have been experimenting for thirty years and more, and they think they have discovered what they want. It may take them several years to perfect their arrangements; it will certainly take them a year or two, and may take six or seven. But one never knows. I suppose you never heard of the three days’ war, did you?”

      “No,” I replied; “what was it?”

      “The State of Lugrabia, with which the Meccanians are in permanent alliance, refused to ratify a new treaty that seemed unfavourable to them in some respects, and feeling ran so high that there was some talk in Lugrabia of putting an end to the alliance. Without any declaration of war the Meccanian Government dispatched a small fleet of air-vessels, planted about a dozen chemical ‘Distributors,’ as they are euphemistically called, and warned the Lugrabian State that, unless their terms were complied with, the twelve chief cities would be wiped out. The war was over in three days. And to this day the outside world has never heard of the event.”

      “How can it have been kept secret?” I said.

      “Ask rather how could it leak out,” replied Kwang.

      “Anyhow,” he went on, “they think they have got something that will enable them to defeat any combination. There is no question in dispute with any foreign power. The political ‘horizon’ is perfectly clear. But it is time for me to go home.”

      “Do you think this idea of theirs is really dangerous?” I asked.

      “Undoubtedly.”

      “But can it not be counteracted in any way?”

      “If it can’t it will be a bad look out for the rest of us,” he said.

      “But do you see any means of meeting it?”

      “There is, if I can get the Governments to act. But they are at a tremendous disadvantage.”

      “Why?” I said.

      “Because everything they do will be proclaimed from the housetops. However, what I wanted to do immediately was to arrange with you about leaving the country. Of course you will stay as long as you like, but I should advise you not to stay too long. I shall not announce that I am going away permanently, and I shall leave nearly all my things here to avoid suspicion; but within three months they will know that I am not likely to come back, and then they may want to look you up if you are still here.”

      “I shall go as soon as you think it is advisable for me to go,” I said. “The only thing I wanted to make sure of was the thing you have apparently found out. Once or twice since I came I have felt sceptical about the Machiavellian designs attributed to the Meccanian Government by all these neighbours. Naturally they see a robber in every bush. I have sometimes been inclined to think the Meccanians like organising just for the love of it, but you are satisfied that there is more in it than that.”

      “My dear child,” said Kwang, “there are some people who can’t see a stone wall till they knock their heads against it, and who can’t tell that a mad bull is dangerous till he tosses them in the air; and from what I learn you are almost as bad,” he said, laughing. “You have been here, how long? Four or five months at any rate. Well, you have a very unsuspicious mind. But I am going to give you an interesting experience. I am going to take you to see a friend of mine who has been a prisoner in an asylum for the mentally afflicted for the last fifteen years. I enjoy the privilege of talking to him alone, and I have permission to take you. I won’t stop to explain how I obtained the privilege, but it has been very useful.”

      In another quarter of an hour we were rolling along in Kwang’s motor-car to a place about forty miles outside Mecco. The roads were as smooth as glass and the car made no noise, so we could converse without raising our voices. Kwang observed that if I wished to stay in Meccania there was only one way of getting behind the screen, and that was to become a convert. The rôle of a convert, however, was becoming more difficult to play. He had lately begun to suspect that he was being watched, or at any rate that one or two people at the Foreign Office were jealous of his privileges. Some years ago, the Head of the Foreign Office had given him practically the free run of the country, and had utilised him as a sort of missionary of Meccania. His books on the Triumphs of Meccanian Culture and on Meccania’s World Mission had been given the widest possible publicity, both in Meccania and abroad. He still enjoyed all his privileges, for Count Krafft was a powerful friend at the Foreign Office. Consequently the Police Department had orders not to interfere with him, and he had free passes for almost everything. But another Under-Secretary had lately begun to question the wisdom of his colleague, not openly but secretly, and was trying to get hold of evidence.

      “They lie so wonderfully and so systematically themselves,” said Kwang, “that they naturally suspect everybody else of lying too. But this suspicion very often defeats its own object. Still, they can’t expect to have a monopoly of lying. I have seen official pamphlets for circulation in the departments, on the methods of testing the bona fides of foreigners; and elaborate rules for finding out whether foreign Governments are trying to deceive them.”

      “And you have satisfied all their tests?” I said.

      “Absolutely,” replied Kwang, with a smile; “but I am not yet out of the country, and I don’t propose to risk it much longer, or I may not be able to get out. However,” he added, “there is not the slightest risk in taking you to visit the Asylum for Znednettlapseiwz. I have made a special study of these asylums, of which there are only about half a dozen in the whole country. I got permission some years ago. I had been discussing with Count Krafft the difficulty of dealing with a certain class of persons, to be found in every modern State, who act as a focus for all opposition. They cling obstinately to certain ethical and political doctrines quite out of harmony with those of the Super-State, and profess to regard Bureaucracy and Militarism as inconsistent with liberty. He told me a good deal about the methods employed, and suggested that I should visit one of these asylums. I did so and asked permission to make a study of a few individual cases. Eventually I wrote a monograph on the case of the very man we are going to see, and although it was never published Count Krafft was much pleased with it. The man we shall see, Mr. Stillman, represents a type that has almost entirely disappeared from Meccania. He has had a remarkable history. At one time, for two or three years, he was the chief political opponent of the great Prince Mechow. He belongs to an older generation altogether, a generation older than his contemporaries, if you understand what I mean. Nearly all his contemporaries are ‘Good Meccanians,’ but there are still the remnants of the opposition left. When Stillman was a boy there were left alive only a handful of men who had stood