“I shouldn’t repeat that story to any one, if I were you, Forrester,” he said, speaking with some effort, as they shook hands.
“Good Lord! Not I! What do you take me for?” laughed Brett easily. “I only thought it might amuse you, Lovell being your agent.”
The groom brought the horse and trap to a standstill in front of the house door, and touched his hat.
“I’ve kept the horse moving about, sir, as he was a bit hot,” he said, addressing Brett.
The latter nodded and tipped the man generously. Meanness, at least, was not included amongst his many faults.
“Quite right,” he replied. “Got a basket handy for the pup?”
The man lifted down from the front of the dog-cart a basket he had put there in readiness, and the puppy, wailing pathetically, was deposited inside.
“Never mind, old man,” observed Brett, bestowing a final reassuring pat on the small black and tan head. “It’ll soon be over.”
A minute later he was driving swiftly down the avenue, an odd expression of mingled triumph and amusement in his eyes.