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. “Be sensible, miss,” said Aird, with the air of one reasoning with a wayward child. “A pretty girl like you wouldn't want to be seen frothin' at the mouth and runnin' round bitin' people. It wouldn't be nice.” His unctuous tone brought up all Cressida's reserves of strength. “You'd never dare do it,” she gasped. “You think so?” the faceless man inquired indifferently. “Well, you'll see in a moment or two.” He rose with the hypodermic syringe in his hand and went out of the room. She could hear him doing something with a sink, and the sound of water. At that her nerve gave way. “Oh, don't do it! Please, please don't! Anything but that! Please!” For the first time she realised that this hideous scheme was seriously meant; and the pictures which flashed through her mind appalled her. To pass out of life was one thing; but to go out by the gate of madness—and such a form of madness—seemed an unbearable prospect. To die like a mad dog—anything would be better than that! “Oh, don't!” She gazed up at the faces of the two men who stood beside her in the hope that in this last moment they might flinch from carrying the foul business through. But there was no comfort in what she saw. Aird was evidently drinking in her torment with avidity. It was something which seemed to give him a positive pleasure. The stranger shrugged his shoulders, as though suggesting that the matter had been irrevocably settled. Neither of them made any answer to her hysterical pleading.