"You might do some day."
"No."
"How can you be certain?"
"I have my work, and it takes up so much of my time that it wouldn't be
fair to any woman to marry her."
"She mightn't let it take up so much of your time."
"Then it wouldn't be fair to my work."
"I see.... You feel it as a sort of priesthood, with a vow of celibacy
attached?"
He thought for a moment and then answered: "I don't know--maybe I _do_
feel that. I don't very often think about it."
But the oddest thing was yet to come. About five o'clock the tousled
head of the laboratory-boy intruded itself round the corner of the door.
He was a rough-mannered youngster, and, ignoring the presence of
visitors, he boldly asked if he could go home. "I've cleaned all the
cages," he said, "and I've fed your mice and Mr. Hensler's cats."
The permission was given him and he withdrew. But I could see instantly
that the matter would not be allowed to end there. As soon as he had
gone Mrs. Severn exclaimed: "I say, what's all this about cats and mice
and cages? Do you keep a menagerie?"
Terrington smiled. "No--only what you said--cats and mice and cages. Oh,
and a few rats also, I believe."
"But what do you have them for?"
"We--we need them, you know."
"For your work?"
"Yes."
"You mean you----" The blood rushed to her face and she bit her lip.
"Vivisection," she said slowly, after a pause. Then she added: "It's
only a word after all--and why should one be hypnotized by a word? I'd
like to see your Chamber of Horrors. Will you take me now?"
I tried valiantly to signal him to make an excuse, but he didn't or
wouldn't see. He was so transparently honest with her. He replied:
"Certainly, if you're really interested. But you'll not find it at all
horrible--only just a trifle smelly."
We walked down the dark stone corridor towards the room where the
animals were kept. I had a sickening feeling that we were walking into
catastrophe--that this part of the programme was going to prove a
dreadful mistake; I had certainly seen something in Mrs. Severn's eyes
that he had missed. But the room, when he unlocked it and switched on
the light, was cheerful enough. It was airy and spacious, and the
various cages were placed methodically on platforms all round the walls.
The cats had all had their milk and were sleepily washing themselves and
blinking their eyes in the sudden glow of light. They purred in joyous
anticipation and rubbed their heads against the cage-bars when he went
near them. (All animals took to him instantly.)
The dreadful thing was that Mrs. Severn said nothing at all. She had
used the word "hypnotized," and that was exactly what she
looked--hypnotized. She followed him round from cage to cage, and all
the while he kept on explaining just the very things he oughtn't to have
explained. "Most of them are strays," he told her. "Nobody seems to know
how they're obtained, but they're nearly all half-starved when they
first come here. We feed them well, of course--they have to be healthy
before you can do anything with them."
Still she said nothing. But suddenly, as by an impulse, she opened the
door of one of the cages, and a black-and-white cat squirmed eagerly
into her arms--a small, glossy-coated animal with a large shaven patch
on the underside of its body. She fondled it for a moment, and then said
quietly: "I suppose you can't do anything with the fur on?"
He explained the matter in detail, while the cat purred violently, and,
rearing itself up, tried to rub its head against her chin.
"What will happen to it?" she asked, almost casually, when he had
finished.
He shook his head doubtfully. "I couldn't say--it's not mine, you know.
One of Hensler's--he's our best biology man. I don't know what it is
exactly that he's doing at present--some sort of research work, no
doubt. The cats and rats are all his--I've only got the mice."
"And all _they_ have to do," I said, anxious at any cost to reduce the
tension of the atmosphere, "is to feed well and propagate their species.
You can't really call _them_ unlucky."
But she said nothing; she didn't even smile. And then, by the very
greatest of good fortune, he had to rush away to a six o'clock lecture.
We hadn't expected she would stay so long, and when the hour came he
made rather abrupt apologies and left her in my charge. Her good-bye, as
she shook hands with him, was hardly audible.