A sudden tap at the door interrupted me.
"Come in!" called out Lady Bulstrode.
I looked up, casually expecting Parkes, and for one radiant, blinding moment I thought I'd gone mad.
Standing in the doorway was Astarte. She was dressed in a plain black evening frock, and the plaits of brown hair no longer hung down her back. But I knew her—knew her as instantly and surely as I should know the sun or the stars.
So did Rufus. With one loud yell of joy he leapt to his feet and hurled himself upon her in wild and vociferous delight.
"Bless my soul!" remarked Lady Bulstrode.
"Rufus!" I said, with a tremendous effort, "control yourself!"
Astarte picked him up in her arms, and with a couple of pats soothed him into something like sanity. She was plainly as amazed as I was, and I could see her breast rising and falling rapidly as she looked first at me and then at Lady Bulstrode. When she spoke, however, it was in her usual delightfully calm manner.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I thought you were alone."
"My dear Grace," said Lady Bulstrode, fanning herself gently, "do all dogs take to you like that?"