It was all very new and exciting to Kenneth Amory, who had only vague memories of the English mobilisation for the South African war, when he was a child of four. His father had founded, with Max Finkelstein, an Anglo-German business which had attained great dimensions. Finkelstein controlled the German headquarters at Cologne; Amory looked after things in London. The latter died suddenly in the winter of 1912, leaving his son Kenneth, then nearly seventeen years of age, to the guardianship of Finkelstein, in whom he justly placed implicit confidence. Since then Kenneth had spent much of his time in Germany, learning the business under Finkelstein’s direction. He had a great liking for his father’s partner, who was a keen man of business, scrupulously exact in his duties as guardian, and a "good fellow." Finkelstein had announced that Kenneth, as soon as he came of age, would be taken into partnership. The firm would still be Amory & Finkelstein. When Kurt Hellwig spoke of "our business," his use of the first personal pronoun must be taken to have implied a commendable feeling: he had no actual share in the business. His connection with it was a proof of his cousin Max’s kindness of heart. Hellwig had brilliant abilities; in particular, remarkable linguistic powers; but he had never been able to turn them to account in the various careers which he had successively attempted. Finkelstein had more than once lent him a helping hand; since Mr. Amory’s death he had employed him as occasional representative in England. Needless to say, he did not entrust any matter of importance to his erratic cousin; and the salary he paid him was proportionate rather to relationship than to services. Kenneth returned to Finkelstein’s house for the midday lunch. Neither Finkelstein nor Hellwig was present. "Father sent word that he was detained," said Frieda, Finkelstein’s daughter, a little younger than Kenneth. "We are not to wait for him." "He seemed very worried when I saw him this morning," said Kenneth. "Of course business will be at a standstill, especially if we come into the war." "It will be hateful if you do," said the girl. "But you won’t, Kurt says. We have done nothing to you." "Kurt knows nothing about it. He thinks we are afraid to fight. He’s wrong. Of course we are not concerned with your quarrel with Russia; but when it comes to your attacking France, quite unprovoked, and bullying Belgium to let you take the easy way, you can hardly expect us to look on quietly. But we won’t talk about that, Frieda; you and I mustn’t quarrel." Frieda and Kenneth were very good friends. One bond of union between them was a common dislike of Kurt Hellwig, whose sarcastic tongue was a constant irritant. Kenneth related what had passed at the office that morning. "Why has he come back?" said Frieda. "He has been away for weeks; I wish he would stay away altogether." "Do you?" "Of course I do. What do you mean?"