As he spoke, Anthony remembered how the dogs had met in the drive a week ago. That, then, was how Patch had come by the sickness. Her dog had infected him. Valerie looked up suddenly. "I'm afraid I was awfully rude at the inn that day," she said quietly. "It was rotten of me." "No, it wasn't," said Lyveden quickly. "You were startled and upset and----" "I've said all that to myself--several times. But it won't wash. It was just rotten, and I'm very sorry." Had she been other than my lady, Anthony would have felt like a beggar whose feet a queen was washing. As it was, he felt like a king. "I knew you never meant it," he said. "Why?" "Because it wasn't like you." "How could you know that?" said Valerie. "I don't know. I suppose I guessed. I suppose..." Anthony hesitated, and the colour came into his cheeks. "I think I know you too well." Valerie French nodded, as if she had received a reply which she knew to be correct. "You're very fond of your dog," she said. "He's all I've got." "All? Haven't you a single friend?" "Not one," said Anthony. A little cough came to her vigilant ears, and Valerie rose to her feet. As she came to the window, she stopped and looked at Anthony with a quiet smile. "I don't think you ought to say that," she said gently. "Not since you know me so well." Long after she had passed in, Lyveden stood gazing at the threshold from which she had spoken.... The veterinary surgeon was with Patch. After a tender examination, he rose to his feet, and Anthony introduced himself. "He's a fine little dog," said the other. "And he makes a good patient, but I'm afraid he's in for a bad time." He turned to the kennel-man. "Have you warned Williams and Minter?" "I have, sir." "That's right. From now on, he mustn't be left." "Will he have some brandy, sir?" "Not yet." In answer to Anthony's questions, the surgeon spoke plainly. "He's getting steadily worse. That will go on for anything from six to twelve hours. Then one of two things will become apparent--either that he will recover, or that he can't." "What about my being with him?" "If you like to be near, sir, yes. As to being in the room--he's a highly-strung little fellow, and in the circumstances I don't advise it. Of course, if there was any sudden change ..." "I'm in your hands," said Anthony. "I'll leave my hat here. Then he'll know that I'm at hand." "You couldn't do better, sir." The surgeon was patently glad of an owner who would do as he said. Anthony stooped to touch the damp muzzle.... Then he stole gently away.