There was a long silence while we endeavoured to recover.
“Like a nightmare, isn’t it?” I said, at last. “Maybe we’ll wake up and have a good laugh over this in a little while.”
“Naw,” Bogle said, mopping his face with his handkerchief, “I wouldn’t laugh at it even if it was a dream.”
“I’d rather have a disappearing man and a floating woman to a talking dog,” I said reflectively. “Do you think if we packed our bags and skipped, we’d be able to shake him off?”
“That dawg wants to stay with us,” Bogle said gloomily. “Anyway, that’s what he said last night.”
“Then I think you had better take him away and leave us to mourn for you,” Myra put in. “I don’t see why we should all be driven mad.”
Doc Ansell came in. He was looking a little tired, but there was a light of battle in his eye.
“There you are,” he said.
“Breakfast is on its way up. I want to talk to you all this morning. We’ve got to make plans.”
“Have you heard about the dog?” I asked.