Seeing that I might as well be talking to a pillar box, I stopped there, although it also occurred to me to say that I could imagine an intelligent Japanese looking with more admiration upon sisters who wanted votes than brothers who struck and pursued a ball all day. I did, however, add, "Instead of ranting about your own reputation as a cricketer, you ought to be hurrying as fast as you can to the police court, to bail her out--if she will let you, which I doubt--and be rather proud to think that you have so determined and plucky a sister. I will come with you if you like." Lionel, I regret to say, replied briefly that he would be damned if he did anything of the kind, and so I went alone, as Naomi could not leave her mother. What nice people the police are! To the well-to-do and law-abiding they have a quiet, gentle, paternal way that soothes and reassures. They write things in books like recording angels. They hold out hope. "Miss Drusilla Wynne? Oh yes," said the officer in charge. "Taken into custody for creating a disturbance in Downing Street with other females. The magistrate will hear the case in about half an hour. A special sitting." Yes, he added, I might see her; but they were all very excited, and had been singing their war-song. A policeman led me to Drusilla's cell and told me the story on the way. It seemed that the Prime Minister had made an announcement unpalatable to the sisterhood, whose knife, the officer added, had been in him for some time, and certain picked heroines among them had paid him a call of protest. "No harm in that," said A-27, "but they wouldn't go away when told, and created a disturbance, so we had to bring them to the station. Very voilent they were, too, some of them; but not your young lady, I hope. Let me see, what did you say her name was?" I told him. "Oh yes. Wynne," he said (and my thoughts flew instantly to poor Wragg in Arnold's preface), "Wynne. No, she was all right--went like a lamb. In point of fact, I apprehended her myself. A pretty little piece in green and terra-cotta. Seemed to me she was doing what she was told, more than what she wanted to." Poor Drusilla--if she could have heard that! Nothing so enrages as truth. I was allowed to talk to her in the presence of the constable, who, with his helmet off, had quite the air of a man and a brother--a far more sympathetic brother than Lionel, indeed. "I'm very sorry," she said, "but I can't pay the fine. None of the others will, and I'm not going to desert them." "Does that mean Holloway?" I asked the policeman. "That's right," he said: "Holloway." "In Black Maria?" I asked. "That's right: Black Maria," he said. "How long do you think it will be?" I asked. "A week or ten days for the first offenders," he said; "a fortnight for the old parliamentary hands."