“Heavens!” she said.  “The place is full of people!”

To their amazement, they saw the white banner of the Pan-Antis floating on one of the towers of the building, and the grounds about the Home blackened with a moving throng.  Though they were too far distant to discern any details of the crowd, it was plain (from the curious to-and-fro of the gathering, like the seething of an ant-hill) that its units were imbued with some strong emotion.  At that distance it might have been anger, or fear, or (more appropriate to the surroundings) drink.

They hurried back to Quimbleton’s hiding place, and found him already sitting up and attacking the shrimp salad.  Bleak courteously averted his eyes from the affectionate embrace of the lovers.

“Bless your heart for this grub,” said Quimbleton to Bleak.  “As soon as I smelt that shrimp salad I woke up.  Do you know, I haven’t eaten for two days.”

“Oh Virgil!” cried Theodolinda, “what does this mean—­all the crowd round the Home?  Mr. Bleak and I looked up there, and the place is simply packed.  You can’t stay undiscovered long with all those people around.  Who are they, anyway?”

Quimbleton had to delay his reply until deglutition had mastered a bulky consignment of shrimp.  His large, resolute face, while somewhat marred by hardships, showed no trace of panic.

“I know all about it,” he said.  “It is the latest step on the route of all evil taken by that fanatical person whom I shall presently call father-in-law.  He is not content with arresting people found drinking.  This morning they began to seize people who think about drinking.  Any one who is guilty of thinking, in an affirmative way, about liquor, is to be interned in the Federal Home for a course in mental healing.”

“But how can they tell?” asked Bleak, nervously.

“I don’t know,” said Quimbleton.  “Perhaps they have a kind of Third Degree, flash a seidel of beer on you suddenly, and if you make an involuntary gesture of pleasure, you’re convicted.  Perhaps they’ve invented an instrument that tells what you think about.  Perhaps they just arrest you on suspicion.  At any rate all the folks who have been thinking about booze are being collected and sent over here.  I know because I’ve seen most of my friends arriving all morning.  I suppose they’ll get me next.  I don’t much care as long as I’ve had something to eat.”

“Virgil, dear,” said Miss Chuff, “you mustn’t give up hope now, after being so brave.  You know I’ll stand by you to the end—­to the very dregs.”

“If only I had some disguise,” said Quimbleton sadly, “it wouldn’t be so bad.  But I must confess that these breath detectors and other unscrupulous instruments they use have rather unnerved me.”

Bleak suddenly remembered, and thrust his hand in his hip-pocket.  He pulled out the hank of white beard that had floated down from the airplane a few days before.  It was much crumpled, but intact.