'I beg your pardon?'
'Entirely unnecessary. I have made an examination. There is practically
nothing the matter with the man. Put him to bed, and let him sponge his
knee with warm water.'
'Are you a doctor, Mrs. Porter?'
'I have studied first aid.'
'Well, I think, if you don't mind, I should like to have your opinion
confirmed.'
This was rank mutiny. Mrs. Porter stared haughtily at Kirk. He met her
gaze with determination.
'As you please,' she snapped.
'Thank you,' said Kirk. 'I don't want to take any risks with George. I
couldn't afford to lose him. There aren't any more like him: they've
mislaid the pattern.'
He went to the telephone.
Mrs. Porter watched him narrowly. She was more than ever impressed by
the perfection of his physique. She appraised his voice as he spoke to
the doctor. It gave evidence of excellent lungs. He was a wonderfully
perfect physical specimen.
An idea concerning this young man came into her mind, startling as all
great ideas are at birth. The older it grew, the more she approved of
it. She decided to put a few questions to him. She had a habit of
questioning people, and it never occurred to her that they might resent
it. If it had occurred to her, she would have done it just the same.
She was like that.
'Mr. Winfield?'
'Yes?'
'I should like to ask you a few questions.'
This woman delighted Kirk.
'Please do,' he said.
Mrs. Porter scanned him closely.
'You are an extraordinarily healthy man, to all appearances. Have you
ever suffered from bad health?'
'Measles.'
'Immaterial.'
'Very unpleasant, though.'
'Nothing else?'
'Mumps.'
'Unimportant.'
'Not to me. I looked like a water-melon.'
'Nothing besides? No serious illnesses?'
'None.'
'What is your age?'
'Twenty-five.'
'Are your parents living?'
'No.'
'Were they healthy?'
'Fit as fiddles.'
'And your grandparents?'
