It was perhaps an ominous feature of their mushroom intimacy that the younger man had not yet been invited to drop the formal prefix in addressing his senior by a short decade. But this would not have been the moment even for a familiarity encouraged in happier circumstances. And yet Dollar dared to pat the great man's arm as he spoke; and the gesture was as the button on the foil; it prevented a shrewd thrust from drawing blood, and if anything it improved Topham Vinson's temper. "It's no good, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed in friendly settlement of the general question. "I must have the lady's name, unless she's determined to defeat her own ends." "Do you mean to say that it's her name or Croucher's life?" Topham Vinson had not meant to say any such thing--in so many words--and it was annoying to have them put into his mouth. But he had decided not to be annoyed any more. It did not pay with this fellow Dollar; at least, it had not paid on that occasion; but anybody might be at a disadvantage after a heavy political strain, a lengthy journey, an excellent dinner, and a development as untimely as it was embarrassing. Mr. Vinson relapsed into silence and an attitude unconsciously modeled on that of the gallant little driver. His body sank deep into the rugs, his head as deep between his shoulders. It was almost Hertfordshire before he spoke again. "Vera Moyle was one of the Oxford Street division," he remarked at last. "I know all about her movements on the night of battle; otherwise I should want to know about them now. If I thought _she_ was the woman----" "What's that?" said Dollar lethargically. "I was almost asleep." The remarks did not gain weight by repetition, but the broken sentence was finished with some effect: "I'd let her drain the cup." "I don't wonder," rejoined Dollar, sympathetically. "Yet you would have me risk my political existence for one of her kidney!" "I don't follow." "You would reprieve the apparent murderer, and let the real one continue militant here on earth?" "I believe she has had her fill of militancy." "Not she!" "I'll go bail for her if you like. It was an accident She is heart-broken about it--and you don't know her--I do! I'd back her not to run the risk of such another accident!" "And what if she rounded on me? However such a thing came out, it would be my ruin, Dollar." "It wouldn't come out through her!" A certain fervor crept into the doctor's voice. It was obviously unconscious, and Topham Vinson was far too astute a person to engender consciousness and caution by so much as a rallying syllable. But he did hazard a leading question, subtly introduced as nothing of the sort. "I'm not trying to get at what I want in a roundabout way," he had the nerve to state. "I've given up trying to pump you, Dollar; but--would it make a _very_ great scandal if we had to fix this thing on this particular young lady?"