"Which finger is it?"
"The second. South and by east of the nail."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Shall I press the poison out?"
"You can amputate it and sear the stump if you like. Good heavens, your necklace is undone at the back."
"It isn't?"
"It is really."
"Well, do it up with your left hand. I'll attend to the sting."
It was at this interesting juncture that the door opened and a footman stood in the August afternoon sunshine, touching his cap and staring fixedly down the platform. On a station lamp was 'Whinnerley Bluff'.