Arthur started; he had forgotten all about the central figure of their farce, who had not been visible for an hour or more.

“I⁠—I think he’s on the other side of the house, by the dustbin,” he said.

“He may be on the road to Russia,” said Warner, “but he must be found.” And he strode away and disappeared round a corner of the house by the sunflowers.

“I hope,” said Rosamund, “he won’t really interfere with Mr. Smith.”

“Interfere with the daisies!” said Michael with a snort. “A man can’t be locked up for falling in love⁠—at least I hope not.”