Maradick tickled his head and decided that pugs weren’t nearly so ugly as he had thought they were. But then there was a world of difference between Toby and the ordinary pug, the fat pug nestling in cushions on an old lady’s lap, the aristocratic pug staring haughtily from the soft luxury of a lordly brougham, the town pug, over-fed, over-dressed, over-washed. But Toby knew the road, he had seen the world, he was a dog of the drama, a dog of romance; he was also a dog with a sense of humour.
He licked Maradick’s bare leg with a very warm tongue and then put a paw on to his arm. They were friends. He ratified the contract by rolling over several times on the sand; he then lay on his back with his four paws suspended rigidly in the air, and then, catching sight of his master, turned rapidly over and went to meet him.
Punch expressed no surprise at finding Maradick there at that hour of the morning. It was the most natural thing in the world. People who came to Treliss were always doing things like that, and they generally spent the rest of their lives in trying to forget that they had done them.
“I’ve been wanting to see you, Mr. Maradick, sir,” he said, “and I’m mighty glad to find you here when there’s nothing to catch our words save the sea, and that never tells tales.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Garrick,” said Maradick, “I came down after you. I meant to have gone up to your rooms after bathing, but as you are here it’s all the better. I badly want to talk to you.”
Punch sat down on the sand and looked quite absurdly like his dog.
“I want to talk to you about Morelli, Garrick.” Maradick hesitated a moment. It was very difficult to put into words exactly what he wanted to say. “We have talked about the man before, and I shouldn’t bother you about it again were it not that I’m very fond of young Tony Gale, and he, as you know, has fallen in love with Morelli’s daughter. It’s all a long story, but the main point is, that I want to know as much about the man as you can tell me. Nobody here seems to know very much about him except yourself.”
Punch’s brow had clouded at the mention of Morelli’s name.
“I don’t rightly know,” he said, “as I can say anything very definite, and that being so perhaps one oughtn’t to say anything at all; but if young Gale’s going to take that girl away, then I’m glad. He’s a good fellow, and she’s on my mind.”
“Why?” said Maradick.