Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 40).djvu/199

 I expect he has been in the sun too much, don't you know."

The substitute's lethargy continued during the rest of that day, but on the following morning after breakfast Lord Bertie observed him rolling along the terrace behind Aline. Presently the two settled themselves under the big sycamore tree, and his lordship sallied forth.

"And how is Reuben this morning?" he inquired, brightly.

"He's not very well, poor old thing," said Aline. "He was rather sick in the night."

"No, by Jove: really?"

"I think he must have eaten something that disagreed with him. That's why he was so quiet yesterday."

Lord Bertie glanced sympathetically at the brown mass on the ground. How wary one should be of judging by looks. To all appearances that dog there was Reuben, his foe. But beneath that Reuben-like exterior beat the gentle heart of the milk-coloured substitute, with whom he was on terms of easy friendship.

"Poor old fellow!" he said.

He bent down and gave the animal's ear a playful tweak. …

It was a simple action, an action from which one would hardly have expected anything in the nature of interesting by-products—yet it undoubtedly produced them. What exactly occurred Lord Bertie could not have said. There was a sort of explosion. The sleeping dog seemed to uncurl like a released watch-spring, and the air became full of a curious blend of sniff and snarl. An eminent general has said that the science of war lies in knowing when to fall back. Something, some instinct, seemed to tell Lord Bertie that the moment was ripe for falling back, and he did so over a chair.

He rose, with a scraped shin, to find Aline holding the dog's collar with both hands, her face flushed with the combination of wrath and muscular effort.

"What did you do that for?" she demanded, fiercely. "I told you he was ill."

"I—I—I" stammered his lordship.

The thing had been so sudden. The animal had gone off like a bomb.

"I—I"

"Run!" she panted. "I can't hold him. Run! Run!"

Lord Bertie cast one look at the bristling animal, and decided that her advice was good and should be followed.

He had reached the road before he slowed to a walk. Then, feeling safe, he was about to light a cigarette, when the match fell from his fingers and he stood gaping.

Round the bend of the road, from the direction of Roberts's cottage, there had