"Smell it again?" Garrick laughed, taking a step toward me.
I put up my hand and shook my head negatively, slowly
comprehending.
"You mean to tell me," I gasped, "that I was--out?"
"I could have jabbed a dozen needles into you and you would never
have known it," asserted Garrick with a quiet smile playing over
his face.
"What is the stuff?" I asked, quite taken aback.
"Kelene--ethyl chloride. Whiff!--and you are off almost in a
second. It is an anaesthetic of nearly unbelievable volatility. It
comes in little hermetically sealed tubes, with a tiny capillary
orifice, to prevent its too rapid vaporising, even when opened for
use. Such a tube may be held in the palm of the hand and the end
crushed off. The warmth of the hand alone is sufficient to start a
veritable spray. It acts violently on the senses, too. But kelene
anaesthesia lasts only a minute or so. The fraction of time is
long enough. Then comes the jab with the real needle--perhaps
another whiff of kelene to give the injection a chance.
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