For there had been no warning. Unknown to Saul, and forgotten in her agitation by Gertrude, Bruno had been lying beneath the table unseen, but seeing all, till what had seemed to his dumb brute mind a cowardly attack upon his mistress, when, with one quick swing round of his head, he caught Saul by the ankle, held on for a moment, and then stood before Gertrude, uttering a low fierce growl.
“That settles it,” said Saul, trying to recover his equanimity, but speaking in a low voice full of fury. “I don’t want to be hard on you, Gertie, but if that dog is here next time I come, I’ll poison him, as sure as he is alive. I’m master now, and—”
He stopped short, for the old housekeeper entered the room with a card, the ring at the front door and the answering footsteps having passed unnoticed in the drawing-room.
“For me, Denton?” cried Gertie, eagerly running to the old woman, and clinging to her arm.
“He asked for master, miss,” whispered the old woman. “He did not know. In the dining-room, miss. It’s Master George.”
A mist seemed to float before Gertrude’s eyes, but not before she had read upon the card the name:
“Mr George Harrington.”