“He won’t. That sort of man never does. I’m sorry for the aunt of course. She seemed a quiet, respectable sort of woman and, curiously enough, very fond of Vittie. I told her that I’d do anything I conscientiously could to lull off Vittie, but that I had my duty to perform. And I have, you know. I’m clearing the air.” “It wants it badly. McMeekin told me two days ago he had forty cases and there are evidently a lot more now.” “I’m not talking about microbes,” said Lalage. “What I’m talking about is the moral ‘at’.” I thought for a moment. --“titude?” I ventured to suggest. “No,” said Lalage, “--mosphere. It wants it far worse than the other air. I had no idea till I took on this job that politics are such utter sinks as they are. What you tell me now about Vittie is just another example of what I mean. I dare say now it will turn out that he went to bed in the hope of escaping my exposure of the way he’s been telling lies.” “Titherington hinted,” I said, “that he did it in the hope of influencing McMeekin’s vote. Fees, you know.” “That’s worse.” “A great deal worse.” “Funk,” said Lalage, “which is what I did suspect him of, is comparatively honest, but a stratagem of the kind you suggest, is as bad as felony. I shall certainly have at him for that.” “Titherington will be tremendously pleased if you do.” “I’m not trying to please Tithers. I’m acting in the interests of public morality.” “Still,” I said, “there’s no harm in pleasing Tithers incidentally.” “I have a big meeting on to-night. Hilda takes the chair, and I’ll rub it in about Vittie shamming sick. I never heard anything more disgraceful. Can Tithers be playing the same game, do you think?” “I don’t know,” I said. “Hilda will be able to tell us that when she comes back.” Hilda came back so soon that I think she must have run part of the way at least. Probably she ran back, when the nurse was not with her. “He won’t send you the key,” she said, “but he wants you to send him the bag.” “Is he shamming?” said Lalage, “or has he really got it?” “I don’t know. I didn’t see him.” “If you didn’t see him,” I said hopefully, “you may be wrong after all about his wanting the bag. He can’t be so selfish.” “Who did you see?” said Lalage. “Mrs. Titherington,” said Hilda. “She----” “Fancy there being a Mrs. Tithers,” said Lalage. “How frightfully funny! What was she like to look at?” “Never mind that for the present, Hilda,” I said. “Just tell me about the key.” “She took your message up to him,” said Hilda, “and came down again in a minute looking very red in the face.” “Titherington must have sworn at her,” I said. “What a brute that man is!” “You’d better take him round the bag at once,” said Lalage. “Where is it?” “He shan’t have the bag,” I said. “There are only eight bottles left and I want them myself.” “Bottles of what?” “Champagne, of course.” “His or yours?” asked Lalage.