“I suppose that was it. I went right away. I wanted to forget, to escape out of a dark cloud into a clear atmosphere. But you? Why have you been in London all this time?” “I’ve been working.” “Working! You?” “Even I—idler, dilettante.” “Music?” “I’ve been working with Arthur Gernham.” “For the animals?” “Exactly. For our brothers and sisters who do not speak our language. I’ve been writing pamphlets, I’ve been gathering subscriptions, I’ve been stirring people up, and by doing so I’ve been stirring myself up, my slothful, sluggish, unpractical self.” “Wonderful!” “Isn’t it? Do you know that I’ve toured the United Kingdom giving lectures on the subject of man’s duty to the animals, that I’ve helped to form a league of kindness? Luttrell, I’m a busy man now, and I am an enthusiastic man.” While he spoke his animation had been growing, and as he ended his voice was full of energy. “And when did the impulse come to you to begin this new life?” I asked. “I can tell you the very day,” he said. “It was on June the 30th of last year.” “June the 30th!” I said. “Why, that was the day that Deeming died!” “Well, it was on that day.” I looked at him sharply. I had never yet heard any details connected with the accident that had brought about Deeming’s illness and so caused his death. I wondered if Vernon knew any. He had lived next door. I longed to ask him, but something, some inner voice of my nature, advised me not to. “Is Gernham a good fellow?” I said carelessly. “A splendid fellow. You must know him.” “As you have changed so much,” I continued, “have you altered that resolution of yours?” “What resolution?” “Never to make another animal happy as you made your spaniel, Whisper, happy?” “Ah, that—no! I could never have another pet. I suffered too much from my affection, Luttrell. I am resolved not to suffer again in that way. The mountains may fall, but I shall never keep another dog.” He spoke with a decision that carried conviction. At that moment I should have been ready to stake my entire fortune on his sticking to his assertion and backing it up by his acts. If anyone had come to me that night and said, “Your friend Vernon has just bought a dog and taken it home to live with him,” I should have laughed, and answered in polite terms, “You’re a liar.” But one cannot deny the evidence of one’s own eyes. Now this is exactly what occurred. While we walked along beneath the trees, not very far from the Statue of Achilles, I saw in the distance a man approaching us, leading a number of dogs by strings and carrying a couple of puppies under his arms. He wore a fur cap and earrings, a short, loud-patterned coat with tails, and a pair of very tight trousers. As he drew near I saw that among the dogs who accompanied him there was a fine black spaniel. [Illustration: “THAT DOG THERE,” SAID VERNON; “HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD HIM?”] “Here comes a choice assortment of dumb friends,” I said to Vernon. “Yes.”