"Is that dog savage?" Quarles asked.
"He doesn't like strangers, as a rule," said the man, "but he's ill."
"Foreign breed of dog, eh?" said Quarles, entering the yard.
"Came from Russia."
The professor looked puzzled. It was evident that something interfered with his theory.
"Sorry to disturb you," he went on, "but we've come to ask a few questions about the awful circumstances of your master's death."
"You're right, it is awful," said the man. "The mistress will go mad, that's what she'll do. I shouldn't have been surprised if she'd chucked herself out of the car as we came down this morning."
"She has returned to the cottage, then? I suppose it was you who drove her up yesterday?"
"Yes, and on Saturday I drove them both up as far as Colnbrook, and then something went wrong with the car. They had to go on by train."
"How did she arrive home on Sunday morning, then?"