"Wonder if Edward can be persuaded to meet me in the Solent," mused the War Lord. "I would love to tell him about my trip to Heligoland, our coastal defences there, and preparations for aerial invasion. Of course, the details will be Greek to Uncle, since he knows less of military matters than my two-year-old fillies at Trakehnen, but my tale may possibly induce him to be more careful in matters of his _amours impropre_: Russia and France. Don’t you think so, Bülow?"
"The Quadruple Alliance, Your Majesty? I can only repeat the conviction previously expressed—that it is entirely pacific, a defensive measure absolutely. As to King Edward, his political strategy is certainly superior to his military talents, but I was under the impression that he introduced Your Majesty to the Maxim gun."
"He happened to be my guest on the day set for the trial of that incomparable man-killer, and I took him to Lichterfelde to show him how I would annihilate his vest-pocket army if he wasn’t as careful as his Mamma. Strange to say, he seemed to be quite _au fait_. I had bet Moltke a dozen _Echte_ that Uncle couldn’t distinguish a Nordenfeldt or Gardner from the old-time Gatling; but he did. ’Confound your impudence,’ I said to Moltke, when I paid the price; but Helmuth convinced me that I got off dirt cheap. The Maxim gun, he persuaded me, must have undreamt of possibilities if even Edward recognises its importance as a war machine.
"So the empty _echte_-box taught me that every copper invested in Maxim guns means one dead—an enemy—hence, that I can’t have enough Maxims. I want fifty, no, a hundred thousand."
Wilhelm smiled sardonically as he added: "I told Krupp he would lose his job unless he improves on Maxim and gets up a machine-gun as light as our army rifle and as easily fired. But that reminds me. I will go to Essen to-night to impress Bertha with her patriotic duties. You’ll keep Krupp here."
"Frau Krupp," said Wilhelm, as he retired with the War Lady to the library of Villa Huegel.
"Bertha is treating her Uncle Majesty very badly."
"May it please Your Majesty to say in which way I have offended?"
"In every way, in the surest way, in the most traitorous way!" cried the War Lord, trying to stab the floor with the point of his sheathed sword—a pitiable sight, since his poor left hand was powerless to move. "You are thinking of diverting the works from their sacred purpose: The Fatherland’s defence."