Page:Weird Tales Volume 26 Number 01 (1935-07).djvu/26

"Oh, don't do that," said Harkness, who was a humane and kindly man. "These are rather hard times. Why throw a man out of a job just because you don't like his face?"

Kearns drew his spare shoulders up, then relaxed them. He lit the cigar Harkness passed him.

"I'll have someone else serve us in the future. . . . About this afternoon's meeting, Harkness——"

He drew at the cigar, emitting small, precise puffs of smoke.

"The decision will probably go as you and I want it to go. And just between us two—I think the time is highly propitious."

"So do I," nodded Harkness, modulating his heavy voice so that it would not carry so far. "Did you read this fellow What's-his-name's report in yesterday's Times? Nearly two million young fellows just out of schools and can't find jobs. Those kids would go for a good war, Kearns."

Kearns nodded.

"And the rest of the country," Harkness went on, "has more or less got over the jitters of the last war. After all, nearly a generation has passed now."

"Some of the veterans talk pretty strongly," Kearns said cautiously.

"A small minority," Harkness shrugged. "No factor to be considered, when you remember the publicity channels we control. Radio, newspapers, politicians."

Their waiter came toward them with their drinks on a small tray. He inclined his head—he was the acme of subservience—and set the vermouth on the stand beside Keams and the martini on the one next to Harkness.

"I'll sign the check," said Kearns, reaching for the pad and pencil on the tray.

"No, I'll sign it," boomed Harkness. Kearns allowed his hand to be beaten by Harkness.

"Anything else, sir?" said the waiter, taking back the signed check with long, very white fingers.

"That's all. . . . Wait." Harkness looked in his cigar-case. "Bring me half a dozen cigars. The man at the counter knows my brand."

"Very good, sir," murmured waiter number 34.

Harkness stared after the man with a small frown on his own face. Then he looked at Kearns.

"He is a peculiar kind of fellow, at that, though I can't put my finger on it. He's just—peculiar. Well, no matter. As I was saying, the human material for war exists in abundance—in these young people who have nothing on earth to do with themselves. And we have our propaganda machine in perfect shape—and now we have a lighted fuse to start war with."

"Precisely," nodded Kearns, sipping at his drink. "The All Alone incident is made to order."

"The United States and Great Britain are trying to settle the matter peacefully, though," said Harkness, pursing his lips.

"They can't if we bring enough pressure to bear on the two governments," said Kearns, his frosty eyes colder even than their wont. "Think of the points:

"The All Alone, an Australian ship, is suspected of bringing dope into our country. It turns out that suspicions were based on fact, but that's neither here nor there. Our Coast Guard cutters sink the boat when it refuses to stop at a shot across her bows. You see? A ship owned by a citizen of the British Empire is sunk, and the lives of British subjects jeopardized by our Coast Guard service! A thousand wars have been started for less reason than that."