WORLD'S END

So began a crazy chase in and about the environs of Paris. Lanny's driver had been a dispatch rider on the upper Meuse front, so he called back to his passenger; he looked like an apache, and behaved like one. They turned corners on two wheels, and Lanny leaned out of the window to balance the cab. They dashed through cross-wise traffic - and they held onto the other car. More than once Lanny saw the passenger in front turning round to look-always holding his gray fedora below the level of his eyes. Lanny took off his hat and waved it, to give his friend every opportunity to recognize him. But it had no effect.

However, Lanny's apache was better than the other one. Kurt's taxi stopped suddenly in front of a department store, and Lanny's came up with screeching brakes behind it. Kurt got out, paid his driver, and turned to go into the store; Lanny came running, having also paid quickly. He realized the need of caution, and didn't call out; he came up behind the other and whispered: "Kurt, it's me - Lanny."

A strange thing happened. The other turned and gazed into Lanny's face, coldly, haughtily. "You are mistaken, sir." Lanny had spoken in English, and the answer was given in French.

Of course it was Kurt Meissner; a Kurt with features more careworn, stern, and mature; his straw-colored hair, usually cut close, had grown longer; but it was Kurt's face, and the voice was Kurt's.

Lanny, having had time to think matters out, wasn't going to give up easily. He murmured: "I understand your position. You must know that I am your friend and you can trust me. I still feel as I have always done."

The other kept up his cold stare. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, in very good French. "It is a case of mistaken identity. I have never met you."

He started away again; but Lanny walked with him. "All right," he said, his voice low. "I understand what is the matter. But if you get into trouble and need help, remember that I'm at the Crillon.

But don't think that I've turned into an official person. I'm doing what I can to help make a decent peace, and you and I are not very far apart."

One of the clerks of the store came forward with inquiry in his manner, and Kurt asked for some gloves. Lanny turned and started to leave. But then he thought: "Maybe Kurt will think it over and change his mind." So he waited, just inside the door of the store. When the other had completed his purchase and was going out, sure enough, he said: "You may come with me, sir, if you wish."

VII

The two of them went out to the street, and walked in silence for quite a while, Kurt looking behind them to make sure they were not being followed. Then they would take a glance at each other. More than four years had passed since their last meeting in London; they had been boys and now they were men. The German officer had lines in his long thin face; he walked as if he were bowed with care - but of course that might have been because he was trying not to look like a military man. It was plain that he was deeply moved.

"Lanny," he exclaimed, suddenly, "may I have your word of honor not to mention this meeting to any person under any circumstances?"

"I have an idea of your position, Kurt. You can trust me."

"It is not merely a matter of my own life. It might have extremely unpleasant consequences for you."

"I am willing to take the risk. I am sure that you are not doing anything dishonorable."

They walked on; and finally Kurt broke out: "Forgive me if I am not a friend at present. I am bound by circumstances about which I cannot say a word. My time is not my own - nor my life."

"I promise not to misunderstand," replied the other. "Let me tell you about my job, and perhaps you can judge about trusting me." He spoke in English, thinking it would be less likely to be caught by any passer-by. He told how he had come to be at the Crillon, and gave a picture of the Peace Conference as it appeared to a translator-secretary.

Kurt couldn't bear to listen to it. He broke in. "Do you know what is being done to my people by the blockade? The food allowance is one-third of normal, and the child death-rate has doubled. Of course our enemies would like them all to die, so there wouldn't be any more of us in the world. But is that what President Wilson promised?"

Lanny replied: "There isn't a man I know in the American delegation who doesn't consider it a shame. They have protested again and again. Mr. Hoover is in Paris now, wringing his hands over the situation."

"Wringing Mr. Hoover's hands won't feed the starving babies. Why doesn't President Wilson threaten to quit unless Clemenceau gives way?"

"He can't be sure what that would do. The others might go on and have their way just the same. It's hard to get a sane peace after a mad war."