WHITEWASH
the consul intimated all sorts of horrifying international complications. He seemed disgusted that I brought the thing to him, and I must confess I'm sorry I did. If I hadn't seen that child die, I don't think I should have touched it, but—well, it's done now; the machinery is going."
"Yes," said Mrs. Durham, whirling about in her office chair; "it now remains to be seen who will be drawn in, and what sort of a sausage will be the result."
"I'm inclined to think I shall season it largely myself," Victoria answered, ruefully. "Philippa is going to make it warm for me when she finds herself dragged in by the ears—the brooch, I mean, with her pathetic little story about dear mother's heirloom, too."
Mrs. Durham chuckled, but sobered suddenly. "Be very careful," she advised, "how you go about that. She would be an unpleasant enemy. She, as the challenged party, has the choice of weapons, and unless I vastly misjudge her, they will be of a type that you wouldn't soil your hands with."
"I know it. Oh, why didn't you head me off?
