"P'r'aps their Who's Who's out of date," he said.
The other shook his head.
"It's the deecay of menners, mate," he said sorrowfully, turning to resume the sorting operation upon which he was engaged.
The letter bore the postmark of a village in Hertfordshire, and proved to be a communication from the Dogs' Home at which Patch was lodged.
DEAR SIR,
I am sorry to inform you that your Sealyham has contracted distemper. There is at present no reason to think that he will be seriously ill, and, the veterinary surgeon is quite satisfied with his condition.
Yours faithfully,
N. DAWES,
Supt.
Anthony stared at the sheet as it had been a death-warrant. It must be remembered that Patch was all that he had in the world.
The second footman, who had been perusing a postcard addressed to the Marchioness, placed the missive upon the top of his mistress's letters and fell to whistling softly between his teeth. When he glanced round to see Anthony so still, he stopped his fluting in the midst of a bar.
"Wot's up, mate?" he said eagerly. "'Ad some bad noos?"