"Garrotted!" said Lord Chiltern, when Phineas told him the story before they went to bed that night. He had been smoking, sipping brandy-and-water, and waiting for Finn's return. "Robert Kennedy garrotted!"
"The fellow was in the act of doing it."
"And you stopped him?"
"Yes;—I got there just in time. Wasn't it lucky?"
"You ought to be garrotted yourself. I should have lent the man a hand had I been there."
"How can you say anything so horrible? But you are drinking too much, old fellow, and I shall lock the bottle up."
"If there were no one in London drank more than I do, the wine merchants would have a bad time of it. And so the new Cabinet Minister has been garrotted in the street. Of course I'm sorry for poor Laura's sake."
"Luckily he's not much the worse for it;—only a little bruised."
"I wonder whether it's on the cards he should be improved by it;—worse, except in the way of being strangled, he could not be. However, as he's my brother-in-law, I'm obliged to you for rescuing him. Come, I'll go to bed. I must say, if he was to be garrotted I should like to have been there to see it." That was the manner in which Lord Chiltern received the tidings of the terrible accident which had occurred to his near relative.