Anthony Lyveden Part 12

"I knew you never meant it," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't like you."

"How could you know that?" said Valerie.

"I don't know. I suppose I guessed. I suppose..." Anthony hesitated, and the colour came into his cheeks. "I think I know you too well."

Valerie French nodded, as if she had received a reply which she knew to be correct.

"You're very fond of your dog," she said.

"He's all I've got."

"All? Haven't you a single friend?"

"Not one," said Anthony.

A little cough came to her vigilant ears, and Valerie rose to her feet.

As she came to the window, she stopped and looked at Anthony with a quiet smile.

"I don't think you ought to say that," she said gently. "Not since you know me so well."

Long after she had pa.s.sed in, Lyveden stood gazing at the threshold from which she had spoken....

The veterinary surgeon was with Patch.

After a tender examination, he rose to his feet, and Anthony introduced himself.

"He's a fine little dog," said the other. "And he makes a good patient, but I'm afraid he's in for a bad time." He turned to the kennel-man. "Have you warned Williams and Minter?"

"I have, sir."

"That's right. From now on, he mustn't be left."

"Will he have some brandy, sir?"

"Not yet."

In answer to Anthony's questions, the surgeon spoke plainly.

"He's getting steadily worse. That will go on for anything from six to twelve hours. Then one of two things will become apparent--either that he will recover, or that he can't."

"What about my being with him?"

"If you like to be near, sir, yes. As to being in the room--he's a highly-strung little fellow, and in the circ.u.mstances I don't advise it. Of course, if there was any sudden change ..."

"I'm in your hands," said Anthony. "I'll leave my hat here. Then he'll know that I'm at hand."

"You couldn't do better, sir."

The surgeon was patently glad of an owner who would do as he said.

Anthony stooped to touch the damp muzzle....

Then he stole gently away.

Out on the verandah he made his plans. Not for fifty Marquesses would he leave ere the change had come. He decided to telegraph to the butler. Perhaps they would understand. Any way, it could not be helped. If he were to be dismissed, he would try again. Only the fear of unemployment had kept him in Eaton Square. The very thought of Lord Pomfret made his blood boil. Perhaps, even if they said nothing, it would be better to leave.

He picked up my lady's _Times_....

The trouble was that the demand for men-servants seemed rather small.

Married couples, apparently, were all the rage. Of course he was getting good wages. The substance might not be toothsome, but it was better than shadow. At least, you could get your teeth into it.

_WANTED.--A gentleman-footman: country: good wages: would be allowed to keep dog. BOX Y779, c/o The Times, E.C.4._

Anthony stared at the lines as if they were unreal....

Then came the flutter of a frock and herself stepped on to the veranda.

Mechanically Anthony set down the paper as if it had been contagious.

Valerie did not speak of her terrier, nor did she ask after Patch.

Instead--

"If we went up to the house," she said gravely, "I think they would give us some tea." Together they left the veranda and pa.s.sed through the pleasant grounds. "I've got a room in the village," she added, "and I've sent for some things for the night. Will--will you have to go?"

"No. I shall stay. I can make s.h.i.+ft." He smiled. "The Army's a good school."

"Do you wish you were back?" said Valerie.

"I don't think so. A school has its drawbacks. If I were back in the Army, I couldn't be staying tonight."

Without thinking--

"You like to be your own master?" said the girl, and could have bitten her tongue in sunder.

Anthony winced. Then--

"Yes," he said slowly, "I do."

Valerie thought frantically. Then--

"That's the best of being a man," she said. "Take our two cases. You have your own establishment--at least, I suppose you have---your own chambers, your own servant. I live with an aunt. If I broke away and set up a separate menage, I should be talked about. To be her own mistress and excite no remark, a girl must be in penury."

Anthony's heart seemed to have stopped beating. The murder was out.

From my lady's words it was plain that she did not know his calling.