“Go thou in alone, Fritzl,” he said softly, opening the door: “there are two little friends within who will welcome thee.”
Very quietly, as if nothing more could surprise him, that day of miracles, Fritzl crossed the threshold, and stood within the room.
At one of the bay windows overlooking the terraced garden, sat the little lame Prince and his sister, their curly heads bent over a book.
“The dog looks something like the one that boy had,” Fritzl heard the Prince say wistfully.
“Only he hasn’t such a dear funny tail as—”
But Betty never finished her sentence.
Tzandi, having been quiet as long as seemed to him desirable, gave a soft little whine.
The brother and sister turned swiftly.
“It’s the boy with the violin!” cried Max.
“It’s the dog!” cried Betty.