engaged a withdrawing room, where he meant to be closeted with his
guests, one by one, administer the oath, and prosecute delicate inquiries
on the important question of immunity from infection. But, after a
private word or two with Logan, he deemed these conspicuous formalities
needless. 'We have material enough to begin with,' said Logan. 'We knew
beforehand that some of the men were safe, and certain of the women.'

There was a balcony. The providence of nature had provided a full moon,
and a night of balm. The imaginative maintained that the scent of hay
was breathed, among other odours, over Pall Mall the Blest. Merton kept
straying with one guest or another into a corner of the balcony. He
hinted that there was a thing in prospect. Would the guest hold himself,
or herself, ready at need? Next morning, if the promise was given, the
guest might awake to peace of conscience. The scheme was beneficent,
and, incidentally, cheerful.

To some he mentioned retainers; money down, to speak grossly. Most
accepted on the strength of Merton's assurances that their services must
always be ready. There were difficulties with Miss Willoughby and Miss
Markham. The former lady (who needed it most) flatly refused the
arrangement. Merton pleaded in vain. Miss Markham, the girl known to
her contemporaries as Milo, could not hazard her present engagement at
Madame Claudine's. If she was needed by the scheme in the dead season
she thought that she could be ready for whatever it was.

Nobody was told exactly what the scheme was. It was only made clear that
nobody was to be employed without the full and exhaustive knowledge of
the employers, for whom Merton and Logan were merely agents. If in
doubt, the agents might apply for counsel to the lady patronesses, whose
very names tranquilised the most anxious inquirers. The oath was