‘Where? Poisoned?’
‘No! Vaccinated!’ said Miss Martin. ‘It is full of the stuff they vaccinate you with, but it is quite safe as far as the old poison goes. Sir Josiah sterilised it, in case of accidents, before he put in the glycerinated lymph. My own idea! He was delighted. Shall I shake hands with the office-boy?—it might do him good—or would Kutuzoff give a paw?’
Kutuzoff was the Russian cat.
‘By no means—not for worlds,’ said Merton. ‘Kutuzoff is a Conscientious Objector. But were you going to shake hands with Miss Truman with that horrible ring? Sacred emblems enamelled on it,’ said Merton, gingerly examining the jewel.
‘No; I was not going to do that,’ replied Miss Martin. ‘My idea was to acquire the confidence of the lover—the younger Mr. Warren—explain to him how the thing works, lend it to him, and then let him press his Jane’s wrist with it in some shady arbour. Then his Jane would have been all that the heart of Mr. Warren père could desire. But it did not come off.’
‘Thank goodness!’ ejaculated Merton. ‘There might have been an awful row. I don’t know what the offence would have been in the eye of the law. Vaccinating a Conscientious Objector, without consent, yet without violence,—what would the law say to that?’
‘We might make it hamesucken under trust in Scotland,’ said Logan, ‘if it was done on the premises of the young lady’s domicile.’
‘We have not that elegant phrase in England,’ said Merton. ‘Perhaps it would have been a common
assault; but, anyhow, it would have got into the newspapers. Never again be officer of mine, Miss Martin.’
‘But how did all end happily?’ asked Logan.