As the ladies rose to leave the table Comus crossed over to pick up one of Lady Veula’s gloves that had fallen to the floor.
“I did not know you kept a dog,” said Lady Veula.
“We don’t,” said Comus, “there isn’t one in the house.”
“I could have sworn I saw one follow you across the hall this evening,” she said.
“A small black dog, something like a schipperke?” asked Comus in a low voice.
“Yes, that was it.”
“I saw it myself to-night; it ran from behind my chair just as I was sitting down. Don’t say anything to the others about it; it would frighten my mother.”
“Have you ever seen it before?” Lady Veula asked quickly.
“Once, when I was six years old. It followed my father downstairs.”
Lady Veula said nothing. She knew that Comus had lost his father at the age of six.