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“My son, Colin. Captain Carroll. You remember him. Just got back. Wanted you to shake hands with him. D. S. C.—‘for cool leadership and conspicuous bravery in action.’ ”

“I know,” said Mr. Jeffries, shaking Stacey’s hand warmly and gazing straight into his eyes. “Glad to see you back, my boy. Very genuinely glad. Congratulations aren’t much, but you have them. We older men, who couldn’t go, aren’t going to forget what you young men did.”

“Thanks,” said Stacey, considering him coolly. It occurred to him that it was quite right of Mr. Jeffries to be grateful, since one thing the young men had done was to make him considerably richer than formerly. However, Stacey did not think this with any bitterness, or accuse the millionaire of a self-interested patriotism or of anything else. He was simply no longer—as he had once been—impressed by the legend of the man. He merely scrutinized him coldly from outside and reserved judgment.

“There’s another reason we’re glad to have you back,” Mr. Jeffries was saying gravely. “You young men have saved the country from one danger. We count on you to save it from another. You’ll find probably that you’ve got to keep on saving it. Conditions are chaotic. The country’s full of social unrest. You’ll see.” (Mr. Carroll nodded assent emphatically.) “Malignant forces are at work secretly. It’s you boys of the American Legion who will be the greatest factor for good in the country’s life for the next generation. Rest? You won’t find rest. Do you want it?”