“Surely you won’t be content anywhere, murdering your fellow-men,” said Mrs. Russell.  “You won’t mind my incurable flippancy, will you?  I can’t help treating things lightly.”

“Not at all,” replied Kew.  “But I am often content in the intervals of murdering my fellow-men.  I play the penny whistle in my dug-out.”

“Now tell me,” said Mrs. Russell, “what are you all doing here?  What mischief are you leading my Herbert into?”

When Kew had recovered from a foolish astonishment at hearing that Mr. Russell was known to others as Herbert, he said, “We’re looking—­not very seriously—­for my sister, who seems to have eloped by herself to the west coast, without leaving us her address.”

“I know.  Herbert told me that much.  A place on the sea-front, isn’t it?  But you know, I feel a certain responsibility for Herbert, I have neglected him so long.  I cannot bear that he should waste his time in what I call these stirring days.  You mustn’t think because I treat life as one huge joke that I can never be serious.  One can wear a gay mask, but—­you understand me, don’t you?  You are one of us.”

There was a pause, and then she said, “Ha-ha.  Doesn’t it seem funny.  We’ve only known each other an hour, and here we are intimate....”

Kew obediently allowed himself for a moment to see the humorous side, and then said, “What are your plans then, yours and Mr. Russell’s?”

“I have neglected him too long, poor old thing,” said Mrs. Russell.  “I must stay with him now, and cheer him up.  A cheery heart can bridge any gulf, don’t you think?  You know, I was just what I call a jolly girl when I married him, and afterwards I forgot to grow up, I think.  Perhaps my treatment of him has been rather irresponsible.  I must try and make up—­what I call ‘kiss and be friends,’ like two jolly little kiddies.”

“Then why not join the motor tour?”

“I would rather take Herbert back to our little nest in London.  There’s no place like home, as I always say.  From there we might work together for the great cause of Peace—­what I call ‘My Grail.’”

She had crimped hair and a long nose, the tip of which moved when she spoke.  You would never have given her credit for such influence as she claimed in the world’s affairs.  Only her Homeric laughter, and a pair of lorgnettes, reminded you of her greatness.

When Kew finally disentangled himself from the company of this jolly creature, it was very late.  But the voice of Anonyma arrested him on his way to bed.  Her face, with a corn-coloured plait on each side of it, looked at him cautiously from a dark doorway.

“Kew,” said Anonyma, “I won’t stand it.  We must be rescued.”

“Nobody can remove her now without also removing Russ and Christina,” said Kew.  “The reconciliation has gone too far.”

“Then Russ must be sacrificed, and even the car,” said Anonyma firmly.  “Gustus and I can hire if we must.  That woman must be removed.  The jealous cat!”