“I cannot believe that at that time he had it in his mind to abuse my confidence, or to act towards me in any way the reverse of honourable. It must have been that unfortunate one-eighth of cur that, made bold by beef-bones, rose against the animal’s better nature, and conquered it. Anyhow, when the outer door was opened to the newspaper-boy next morning, the servant was scared by the spectacle of a Dog taking the whole flight of steps at a leap, and making off with part of a leg of pork in its mouth. The villain had feloniously extracted it from the pantry, which I had inadvertently left open when I went foraging for him. Besides the pork he had carried off, he had helped himself during the night to a small steak-pie, about a pound of fresh butter, and a fine rasher of ham. I had but little expectation of encountering the canine traitor ever again; but I did so. About a week after, at dead of night, and in the pouring rain, once more I made out his crouching figure in the shadow of the identical lamp-post. Again our eyes met, and, as on the previous occasion, he instantly leapt to his feet. Not to cut capers about me. However, his guilty fears did not make of him a faltering, trembling coward. He took in the whole situation at a glance, including my vengefully-grasped umbrella, and, with one brisk bark of derision, made off at a speed which quickly carried him out of sight. Since then I have frequently encountered him, but it has been in the busy streets at daytime, but he does not run away. If he can avoid my eye he does so. If he cannot--and with his guilt haunting him I imagine it is not easy to do so--he assumes a puzzled expression of countenance, as though half convinced he has seen me before, though when and under what circumstances he could not say though his life depended on it.”[106]