We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until
Cynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in
her long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, and
introduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiring
individual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as "Nibs."
"What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round
the small room. "Do you really know what's in them all?"
"Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single person
who comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing
a prize on the first individual who does _not_ say: 'What a lot of
bottles!' And I know the next thing you're going to say is: 'How
many people have you poisoned?' "
I pleaded guilty with a laugh.
"If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison some
one by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's have
tea. We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard.
No, Lawrence--that's the poison cupboard. The big
cupboard--that's right.
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