There was so much decision in the request—a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.
“What is it, my lad?” said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.
The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.
“Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!” cried George.
There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.
“Shut that baize door, sir,” said George; “and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He’ll worry the doctor’s patient to death.”
The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.
“Do you think there’s any danger?” whispered the old lawyer.
“Not a bit.”
“But he seems so savage.”