‘You will report at once on your return?’ said Merton. ‘I shall be on tenter-hooks till I see you again. If I knew what you are really about, I’d take counsel’s opinion. Medical opinion does not satisfy me: I want legal.’
‘How nervous you are!’ said Miss Martin. ‘Counsel would be rather stuck up, I think; it is a new kind of case,’ and the lady laughed in an irritating way. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ she said. ‘I’ll telegraph to you on the Monday morning after the lecture. If everything goes well, I’ll telegraph, “Happy ending.” If anything goes wrong—but it can’t—I’ll telegraph, “Unhappy ending.”’
‘If you do, I shall be off to Callao.
‘On no condition
Is Extradition
Allowed in Callao!’
said Merton.
‘But if there is any uncertainty—and there may be,’ said Miss Martin, ‘I’ll telegraph, “Will report.”’
* * * * *
Merton passed a miserable week of suspense and perplexity of mind. Never had he been so imprudent;
he felt sure of that, and it was the only thing of which he did feel sure. The newspapers contained bulletins of an epidemic of smallpox at Bulcester. How would that work into the plot? Then the high animal spirits and daring fancy of Miss Martin might carry her into undreamed-of adventures.
‘But they won’t let her have even a glass of champagne,’ reflected Merton. ‘One glass makes her reckless.’