“No mad dogs here, of course; but they have them in France. I've a French medical friend who's kindly supplied me with some extract taken from one of them.”
Again he paused, to let anticipation do its work.
“If you get injected with this extract, or whatever it is, there's only one hope. Within a certain number of days you've got to get to a Pasteur Institute and put yourself under treatment there. Nothing else is any good. And, if you overshoot the time, even the Pasteur Institute can do nothing for you. You just go on till you froth at the mouth, get cramp in the throat, and die that rather disgusting death.”
He looked down at Cressida's face, with its eyes dark with horror; and something which might have been a smile passed over his shattered countenance.
“My French medical friend supplied me with both the bane and the antidote—at least, enough of the antidote for a first dose. You see the point? Perhaps I'd better be precise. Here's a hypodermic syringe.”
He produced a little nickel case from his pocket, and drew from it a tiny glass syringe, to which he fitted a hollow needle.
“I'm going to fill this with some of the mad dog extract and inject it into your arm. Once that's done, your only chance is to get Pasteur Institute treatment within a certain time or else rely on me to give you a first dose of the antidote before the time's up. Once the time's past without treatment, nothing can save you. I couldn't do it myself, even with the antidote. You'd simply go through all the stages I've told you about, and then die.”
He fingered the tiny syringe thoughtfully.
“Now do you see the ingenuity of my plan? I'm going to inject some of the stuff into your veins now. Then we'll keep you here until the very last moment of your safety. Then you'll come with me and get spliced by special license. By that time it'll be too late to get to an institute; you'll have no chance whatever except the dose of antidote that I've got. And you won't get that from me until we're safely married without any fuss. You'll stand up in public and say: ‘I will!’ without any objection, because it'll be your one chance of escaping the cramps and all the rest of it. Ingenious, isn't it? Shall I repeat it, in case you've missed any of the points? It's no trouble, I assure you.”
Cressida glanced from face to face in the hope of seeing some signs of relenting; but none of the three showed the faintest trace of pity.