Miss Sichliffe's house I discovered to be a mid-Victorian mansion of peculiar villainy even for its period, surrounded by gardens of conflicting colours, all dazzling with glass and fresh paint on ironwork. Striped blinds, for it was a blazing autumn morning, covered most of the windows, and a voice sang to the piano an almost forgotten song of Jean Ingelow's-- Methought that the stars were blinking bright, And the old brig's sails unfurled-- Down came the loud pedal, and the unrestrained cry swelled out across a bed of tritomas consuming in their own fires-- When I said I will sail to my love this night On the other side of the world. I have no music, but the voice drew. I waited till the end: Oh, maid most dear, I am not here I have no place apart-- No dwelling more on sea or shore, But only in thy heart. It seemed to me a poor life that had no more than that to do at eleven o'clock of a Tuesday forenoon. Then Miss Sichliffe suddenly lumbered through a French window in clumsy haste, her brows contracted against the light. 'Well?' she said, delivering the word like a spear-thrust, with the full weight of a body behind it. 'I've brought Harvey back at last,' I replied. 'Here he is.' But it was at me she looked, not at the dog who had cast himself at her feet--looked as though she would have fished my soul out of my breast on the instant. 'Wha--what did you think of him? What did _you_ make of him?' she panted. I was too taken aback for the moment to reply. Her voice broke as she stooped to the dog at her knees. 'O Harvey, Harvey! You utterly worthless old devil!' she cried, and the dog cringed and abased himself in servility that one could scarcely bear to look upon. I made to go. 'Oh, but please, you mustn't!' She tugged at the car's side. 'Wouldn't you like some flowers or some orchids? We've really splendid orchids, and'--she clasped her hands--'there are Japanese goldfish--real Japanese goldfish, with four tails. If you don't care for 'em, perhaps your friends or somebody--oh, please!' Harvey had recovered himself, and I realised that this woman beyond the decencies was fawning on me as the dog had fawned on her. 'Certainly,' I said, ashamed to meet her eye. 'I'm lunching at Mittleham, but--' 'There's plenty of time,' she entreated. 'What do _you_ think of Harvey?' 'He's a queer beast,' I said, getting out. 'He does nothing but stare at me.' 'Does he stare at you all the time he's with you?' 'Always. He's doing it now. Look!' We had halted. Harvey had sat down, and was staring from one to the other with a weaving motion of the head. 'He'll do that all day,' I said. 'What is it, Harvey?' 'Yes, what _is_ it, Harvey?' she echoed. The dog's throat twitched, his body stiffened and shook as though he were going to have a fit. Then he came back with a visible wrench to his unwinking watch. 'Always so?' she whispered.