"To begin with," said Mr. Cameron, in a cool, even voice, "we're not quarantined, and never have been. To proceed, Babette has not the diphtheria, and never has had. In a word, and I trust I shall not be flayed alive,—this whole affair is a practical joke, which I have had the honour to perpetrate on Miss Patricia Fairfield, and for which I claim the payment of a wager made by the fair lady herself!"
Patty's blue eyes stared at him. At first, a furious wave of anger swept over her, and then her sense of justice made her realise that she had no right to be angry. It took her a few moments to realise the whole situation, and then she began to laugh.
She jumped up and went to Cameron, and with her little fist she pounded his broad shoulder.
"I—THINK—YOU'RE—PERFECTLY—HORRID!!" she exclaimed, emphasising each word by a pound on his shoulders.
Then she stood back with dignity. "How DARE you do such a thing?" she cried, stamping her foot at him.
"There, there, little Princess,—little Captive Princess,—don't take it so hard! Don't let your joy at your escape be marred by your chagrin at having been caught!"
"Do you mean to say, Cameron," said Kenneth, rather sternly, "that you trumped up this quarantine business, and it's all a fake?"
"Just exactly that," said Cameron, calmly, and looking Ken steadily in the eye.
"You've made me a lot of trouble, old man," and Kenneth's voice was regretful rather than reproachful.
"Oh, not so much," said Cameron, airily. "I took the liberty of telephoning your office after you did yesterday, and told them that it was probable you'd be back there this afternoon."