Lucien could not
be persuaded to go near the dog, but William was quite solicitous for
the animal's welfare. He fed it on tea biscuits, surreptitiously
abstracted from Lucien's luncheon box--that worthy being somewhat
partial to the delicacy. Also overlooking the formality of asking
permission, he used Lucien's cap as a holder for a liberal helping of
ice water from the office jug. The dog ate the biscuits, but spurned
the ice water, which William promptly emptied from the open window.
Then things happened.

When the ice water fell, most of it fell upon the head of a
distinguished K.C., who was using his hat as a fan while he discussed
with an acquaintance some of the questions attendant upon a provincial
election then looming up. Some of the water sprinkled the K.C.'s
acquaintance. Both men looked up quickly enough to note drops of water
trickling from the sill of the open window, and as one, both turned and
dashed up the front stairway to Whimple's office. William's hearing
was acute; he did not like the sound of the hasty footsteps, and he was
quick to surmise the cause. He made for the back stairway and
descending in quick time, traversed the lane until, by a roundabout
way, he emerged on the street, and came to a standstill at a point on
the opposite side of the street, but in front of the office building.

The K.C. and his acquaintance by this time had burst into the office
and dashed into Whimple's room on the run, not noticing the dog, over
which the former fell full length. The bulldog had no particular
grievance against the K.C., but he had a decided objection to playing
cushion to him, and he snapped at the first thing he could get his
teeth into. This, fortunately for the ornament of the bar, happened to
be his coat tail, and on this the dog took a firm and impassioned hold.
The K.C., by this time aware of the dog's presence, half rolled and
half scrambled toward the door, the dog hanging so determinedly to the
coat tails that, between the combined efforts of man and dog, the table
began to move, and moved until it stuck at the jambs of the door. The
dog could not go any further; the K.C. gave a final rolling jerk that
left the dog half choked, but plus a large section of coat tail. The
K.C. thereupon rose, dust-covered, his dignity gone, murder in his
heart, wrath on his face.

Lucien Torrance seized this unfortunate moment to leave the office of
his employer and to enter that of William's. W