Yes; I admit it was criminal folly. A man who asks a London street boy to be so kind as to direct him to a Home for Lost Dogs has only himself to thank for the consequence.
The wistful little boy smiled up at us. He had a pinched face and large eyes.
"Lost Dogs' 'Ome, sir?" he said courteously. "It's a good long way. Do you want to get there quick?"
"Yes."
"Then if I was you, sir," replied the infant, edging to the mouth of an alleyway, "I should bite a policeman!" And, with an ear-splitting yell, he vanished.
We walked on, hot-faced.
"Little wretch!" said Stella.
"We simply asked for it," I rejoined. "What are we going to do next?"
My question was answered in a most incredible fashion, for at this moment a man emerged from a shop on our right and set off down the street before us. He wore a species of uniform; and emblazoned on the front of his hat was the information that he was an official of the Battersea Home for Lost and Starving Dogs.
"Wait a minute and I will ask him," I said, starting forward.