For I am an anachronism. Not nature but human force,
fighting against nature, keeps me on my throne. If you must have war,
have it. But I tell you this: God has no part in it. Leave God out of
the game!
[_He sinks into the chair by the desk._
PRIME MINISTER
[_To_ MINISTER OF WAR.
Call your Secretary!
[MINISTER OF WAR _goes to the door. The_ SECRETARY
_enters. The_ PRIME MINISTER _takes a paper out of his pocket._
Here. It is a copy of the message I directed you to send to the news
bureaus and embassies. Transmit it at once.
[_The_ SECRETARY _bows and goes out. The_ KING _falls
forward on the desk, sobbing. At his side, straight and stern, the_
PRIME MINISTER _Stands. To_ MINISTER OF WAR.
Give orders for immediate mobilization.
[_The stage is slowly darkened._
SCENE II
_As the lights rise again they reveal a small, comfortably furnished
clubroom, with a wide window opening on a balcony in the back, and doors
right and left. It is evening and the electric lamps are lit._
GROSVENOR, _a man of fifty-odd, large, sleek, unctuous,
well-groomed, is discovered in an arm-chair, surrounded by newspapers.
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