"Some rank rascal has tried to break in. It's an attempt at burglary, which didn't succeed, but it have made her wild like."
"An attempt at burglary? How very extraordinary!"
"And she is raving about it, poor soul. Oh, dear me, we must send for Dr. Gay."
"Yes, you had better send for Dr. Gay instantly, Chetwode. What may the nature of her ravings be?" inquired the colonel, blandly.
"All sorts of things: that your dog there was at her door all night, and—and other fancies."
"Ah!" in a tone of sympathetic interest; "unfortunate girl! Here, Argus, good dog, speak up for your character, my boy!"
The dog blinked his small blood-shot eyes, and rose to shake himself, as if he meditated a spring upon his traducer.
"Oh, Lor', don't show me to him," exclaimed Mrs. Chetwode, shrinking out of view.
The colonel showed his long, hungry teeth, by way of grim smile, and gave the animal a kick. "Don't be afraid. Are you going to send, then, for Miss Walsingham's friends?"
"Would you say so, sir?" said the anxious creature, wavering between the desire to humor her young mistress, and the fear of disobeying the colonel.