Fer. I admit nothing of the sort. There isn't the least risk.
Walter. Then why do not you submit yourself to the ordeal?
Fer. Damme, sir, don't you understand that as the proprietor of the patent I couldn't safely show any one how to bring me to life again? There's only one man could do it, and that's the American inventor; and he's such a devilish grasping fellow that when he hears I've brought the thing over here without consulting him, he'd be capable of keeping me suspended indefinitely.
Mr. W. Then how do you mean to proceed?
Fer. Oh! look out for a felon. England is the best field for that sort of thing, and that's why I came over here. I'm not going to ask any more private individuals. I'm sick of it, and won't give myself the pain of receiving any more refusals. I confess I've buoyed myself up with the hope that I should find a felon in my own family, which would make things easy and pleasant for me. Is there one, uncle? I said good-by to a lot of cousins who promised well in that direction.
Mr. W. No, Ferdinand, there isn't one.
Fer. Hard lines, because there must be one soon.
Walter. But, failing a felon, what shall you do?
Fer. I see only one course open—I must marry, and freeze my wife.
Walter. You would have sufficient confidence in the project, sir, to try the experiment on your wife?