His sister sighed. Somehow, in everything that Ferdy said, or did, there lurked a doubtful note. But on reflection, she could not but confess that it seemed ridiculous to think that Ferdy knew an assassin. Only for the overheard whisper, Clarice would never have started so futile a conversation, and now wished to end it by confessing her fault. "I beg your pardon, Ferdy," she said, quietly, "but my anxiety for you must be my excuse."
Before Ferdy could accept her apology, and kiss her, as he seemed inclined to do, there was a furious barking outside, and the angry voice of a man. Clarice stepped out on to the terrace. "There's Jane at Dr. Jerce again," she said, hastily, and went to the rescue.
Jerce, with a very white and angry face, was repelling with his umbrella the assault of a tawny dog of the mongrel collie species, with savage white teeth and blazing topaz eyes. Jane--as the animal was called--cherished a deep hatred for Jerce, notwithstanding that he had been her former master, and had presented her to Miss Baird. On all occasions she attacked him, and was usually shut up when the doctor was expected. That Jane was lame in the left hind-leg did not prevent her from making furious darts at Jerce, until Clarice caught her deftly by the collar.
"That damned dog will be the death of me," said Jerce, when Jane, handed over to Ferdy, was dragged away, growling and snapping. "I beg your pardon for swearing, Miss Baird, but--"
"I am very sorry, doctor," said Clarice, leading the way back to the drawing-room. "Jane was shut up as usual, but must have got loose while the groom was at the funeral. I wonder why she hates you so?"
"I don't know," said Jerce, seating himself, and recovering his calmness. "I get on first-rate with dogs, but Jane never did like me. I gave her to you, Miss Baird, because she never would be friends with me. The she-devil--I beg your pardon again--but I am quite sure that Jane will kill me some day."
"Nonsense. Her bark is worse than her bite."
"Then I hope she won't bark again, that's all. Ungrateful beast, I picked her up in Whitechapel on a wet day, streaming with water and starving with hunger. She had a good home with me, until her temper made me get rid of her."
"Perhaps her lameness makes her fractious," said Clarice. "Jane is really a good-tempered dog as a rule."
"Her lameness," echoed Jerce, after a pause, and then smiled in an odd way. "Why, yes, Miss Baird. That might have something to do with her temper. However, now that she's tied up--"