"Give me my dog! There is the money you paid for him!"

"He isn't for sale," grinned the Doctor. "Stand clear, please. I'm
starting."

"You're doing nothing of the sort," was the hot reply. "You'll give
back my dog! Do you understand?"

For answer Halding reached again toward his self-starter. A renewed
struggle from the whimpering puppy frustrated his aim and forced him to
devote both hands to the subduing of Bruce. The dog was making frantic
writhings to get to the Mistress. She caught his furry ruff and raged
on, sick with anger.

"I know who you are and what you want this poor frightened puppy for.
You shan't have him! There seems to be no law to prevent human devils
from strapping helpless dogs to a table and torturing them to death in
the unholy name of science. But if there isn't a corner waiting for
them, below, it's only because Hades can't be made hot enough to punish
such men as they ought to be punished! You're not going to torture
Bruce. There's your money. Let go of him."

"You talk like all silly, sloppy sentimentalists!" scoffed the Doctor,
his slight German accent becoming more noticeable as he continued: "A
woman can't have the intellect to understand our services to humanity.
We--"

"Neither have half the real doctors!" she flashed. "Fully half of them
deny that vivisection ever helped humanity. And half the remainder say
they are in doubt. They can't point to a single definite case where it
has been of use. Alienists say it's a distinct form of mental
perversion,--the craving to torture dumb animals to death and to make
scientific notes of their sufferings."

"Pah!" he sniffed. "I--"

She hurried on

"If humanity can't be helped without cutting live dogs and kittens to
shreds, in slow agony--then so much the worse for humanity! If you
vivisectors would be content to practice on one another--or on
condemned murderers,--instead of on friendly and innocent dogs, there'd
be no complaint from any one. But leave our pets alone. Let go of my
puppy!"

By way of response the Doctor grunted in lofty contempt. At the same
time he tucked the wriggling dog under his right arm, holding him thus
momentarily safe, and pressed the self-starter button.

There was a subdued whir. A move of Halding's foot and a release of the
brake, and the car started forward.

"Stand clear!" he ordered. "I'm going."

The jolt of the sudden start was too much for the Mistress's balance on
the running-board. Back she