’If you do, I shall be off to Callao.

   ’On no condition
   Is Extradition
   Allowed in Callao!’

said Merton.

‘But if there is any uncertainty—­and there may be,’ said Miss Martin, ‘I’ll telegraph, “Will report."’

* * * * *

Merton passed a miserable week of suspense and perplexity of mind.  Never had he been so imprudent; he felt sure of that, and it was the only thing of which he did feel sure.  The newspapers contained bulletins of an epidemic of smallpox at Bulcester.  How would that work into the plot?  Then the high animal spirits and daring fancy of Miss Martin might carry her into undreamed-of adventures.

‘But they won’t let her have even a glass of champagne,’ reflected Merton.  ‘One glass makes her reckless.’

It was with a trembling hand that Merton, about ten on the Monday morning, took the telegraphic envelope of Fate.

‘I can’t face it,’ he said to Logan.  ‘Read the message to me.’  Merton was unmanned!

Logan carelessly opened the envelope and read: 

‘Happy ending, but awfully disappointed.  Will call at one o’clock.’

‘Oh, thanks to all gracious Powers,’ said Merton falling limply on to a sofa.  ‘Ring, Logan, and order a small whisky-and-soda.’

‘I won’t,’ said Logan.  ’Horrid bad habit.  Would you like me to send out for smelling-salts?  Be a man, Merton!  Pull yourself together!’

‘You don’t know that awful girl,’ said Merton, slowly recovering self-control.  ’However, as she is disappointed though the ending is happy, her infernal plan must have been miscarried, whatever it was.  It must be all right, though I sha’n’t be quite happy till I see her.  I am no coward, Logan’ (and Merton was later to prove that he possessed coolness and audacity in no common measure), ’but it is the awful sense of responsibility.  She is quite capable of getting us into the newspapers.’

‘You funk being laughed at,’ said Logan.

Merton lay on the sofa, smoking too many cigarettes, till, punctually at one o’clock, a peal at the bell announced the arrival of Miss Martin.  She entered, radiant, smiling, and in her costume of innocence she looked like a sylph.

‘It is all right—­they are engaged, with Mr. Warren’s full approval,’ she exclaimed.

‘Were we on the stage, I should embrace you!’ exclaimed Merton rapturously.

‘We are not on the stage,’ replied Miss Martin demurely.  ’And I have no occasion to congratulate myself.  My plot did not come off; never had a look in.  Do you want to be vaccinated?  If so, shake hands,’ and Miss Martin extended her own hands ungloved.

‘I do not want to be vaccinated,’ said Merton.

‘Then don’t shake hands,’ said Miss Martin.

‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Merton.

‘Look there!’ said the lady, lifting her hand to his eyes.  Merton kissed it.