him a message?"

"Try me," said the voice.

"Will you tell him that his dog is not so well?"

"What dog?"

"_His_ dog. His Sealyham. Mr. Lyveden will understand."

"Oh, will he?" said the voice. "And where do I come in, Mabel?"

For a moment the fair-haired girl stared at the instrument. Then she
flushed angrily and rang off....

At the other end of the line Lord Pomfret replaced his receiver with a
hideous leer.

The superintendent returned to the hospital.

"Did you speak to him?" said Valerie.

"No, Miss French. He was out. I had to leave a message."

Valerie rose to her feet.

Observing her movement, the Irish terrier rose also and got shakily
upon his legs. The effort set him coughing again, poor fellow, and he
had to submit to the paroxysm before he could wag his tail. How
stiffly this moved, his mistress, whose eyes were full of tears, did
not remark. Nor did she notice the suggestion of impotence about his
hindquarters. With her practised eye, the fair-haired girl noticed
both symptoms and bit her lip.

Valerie caressed her favourite and turned to a grey-headed kennel-man
who had just entered the room.

"Are you going to wash his face?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The Irish terrier was plainly pleased to see his old nurse.

"How is the little Sealyham?"

"'Tis a sick dog, ma'am."

Valerie turned away.

The superintendent escorted her back to the house.

"I'll be down to-morrow morning," she said.

"Very well, Miss French."

As she walked down the drive, Valerie wondered miserably whether she
was treading it for almost the last time.

* * * * *

When upon Saturday morning Anthony received no bulletin from
Hertfordshire, he did not know what to think. In the ordinary way he
would have telegraphed, but telegrams cost money, which he really could
not afford, and he was, in any event, to visit the Dogs' Home that
afternoon.... He decided to do nothing. All the same, he was far from
easy, for Friday morning's report had said that his terrier was not so
well.

He went about his work abstractedly, glancing at the faces of the
clocks times without number.

At five-and-twenty minutes past two, just as he was going to change,
Lord Pomfret sent for him. Anthony ground his teeth. The man was his
evil genius.

Mercifully the interview was a short one.

His lordship produced two pounds and curtly instructed the footman to
expend the money upon the purchase