“I have come to see you,” began the lady with a peculiar sinuous smile, “as a public man and a patriot.” Mr. Lavender bowed, and the lady went on: “I am in very great trouble. The fact is, my sister's husband's sister is married to a German.” “Is it possible, madam?” murmured Mr. Lavender, crossing his knees, and joining the tips of his fingers. “Yes,” resumed the lady, “and what's more, he is still at large.” Mr. Lavender, into whose mind there had instantly rushed a flood of public utterances, stood gazing at her haggard face in silent sympathy. “You may imagine my distress, sir, and the condition of my conscience,” pursued the lady, “when I tell you that my sister's husband's sister is a very old friend of mine—and, indeed, so was this German. The two are a very attached young couple, and, being childless, are quite wrapped up in each other. I have come to you, feeling it my duty to secure his internment.” Mr. Lavender, moved by the human element in her words, was about to say, “But why, madam?” when the lady continued: “I have not myself precisely heard him speak well of his country. But the sister of a friend of mine who was having tea in their house distinctly heard him say that there were two sides to every question, and that he could not believe all that was said in the English papers. “Dear me!” said Mr. Lavender, troubled; “that is serious.” “Yes,” went on the lady; “and on another occasion my sister's husband himself heard him remark that a man could not help loving his country and hoping that it would win.” “But that is natural,” began Mr. Lavender. “What!” said the lady, nearly rising, “when that country is Germany?” The word revived Mr. Lavender's sense of proportion. “True,” he said, “true. I was forgetting for the moment. It is extraordinary how irresponsible one's thoughts are sometimes. Have you reason to suppose that he is dangerous?” “I should have thought that what I have said might have convinced you,” replied the lady reproachfully; “but I don't wish you to act without satisfying yourself. It is not as if you knew him, of course. I have easily been able to get up an agitation among his friends, but I should not expect an outsider—so I thought if I gave you his address you could form your own opinion.” “Yes,” murmured Mr. Lavender, “yes. It is in the last degree undesirable that any man of German origin should remain free to work possible harm to our country. There is no question in this of hatred or of mere rabid patriotism,” he went on, in a voice growing more and more far-away; “it is largely the A. B. C. of common prudence.” “I ought to say,” interrupted his visitor, “that we all thought him, of course, an honourable man until this war, or we should not have been his friends. He is a dentist,” she added, “and, I suppose, may be said to be doing useful work, which makes it difficult. I suggest that you go to him to have a tooth out.” Mr. Lavender quivered, and insensibly felt his teeth.