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“Lucy stole the chronograph? But why?”
“How would I know? Schizoid personality disturbance, probably,” growled Dr. White. “Obviously runs in the family. Hysterical females, all these Montrose women. And Lucy had a great deal of criminal spirit in her.”
“Dr. White!” said Mrs. Jenkins. “That’s not true!”
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut?” said Dr. White.
“But if Lucy stole the chronograph, how can it still be here?” I asked.
“How, indeed?” Dr. White undid the strap around my arm. “There’s a second one, of course, you clever child. When was your last tetanus jab?”
“No idea. So there are several chronographs?”
“No, only those two,” said Dr. White. “You obviously haven’t been vaccinated against variola major.” He tapped my upper arm as he examined it. “Any chronic sicknesses? Allergies?”
“No. I haven’t been inoculated against the plague either. Or cholera. Or smallpox.” I thought of James. “Can you inoculate people against smallpox? I’ve an idea that a friend of mine died of it.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” said Dr. White. “Smallpox is just another name for variola major, and no one’s died of it for a very long time.”
“Well, my friend has been dead for a very long time.”
“I thought variola was another name for measles,” said Mrs. Jenkins.
“And I thought we’d agreed that you’d keep your mouth shut, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Mrs. Jenkins said no more.
“Why are you so unfriendly to everyone?” I asked. “Ouch!”
“That was only a little prick,” said Dr. White.
“What was it for, then?”
“Believe me, you really don’t want to know.”
I sighed. The little ghost called Robert sighed as well. “Is he always like this?” I asked him.
“Mostly,” replied Robert.
“He doesn’t really mean it.” said Mrs. Jenkins.
“Mrs. Jenkins!”
“Oh, very well.”
“Well, I’m through with you for now. By next time I’ll have your blood group, and maybe your charming mother will be so good as to come up with your inoculation record and any records of illness.”
“I’ve never been ill. Am I inoculated against the plague now?”
“No. Not really worth it. The jab lasts only six months, and the side effects are nasty. And if I have it my way, you’ll never travel to a plague year at all. You can put your things back on, and Mrs. Jenkins will take you back up to the others.”
Mrs. Jenkins rose from her chair. “Come along, Gwyneth. I’m sure you’re hungry, and supper will soon be ready. Mrs. Mallory has roast veal with asparagus on the menu today, delicious.”
I certainly was hungry. Even for roast veal with asparagus, and I wasn’t normally a big fan of eating baby cows.
“The doctor has a kind heart, really, you know,” said Mrs. Jenkins on our way up. “He just finds it rather difficult to be friendly.”
“So I notice.”
