“Sit down again,” he said. “The dog can’t get to you now.” As he spoke, he sat down. I glanced towards the dog, saw that what Vernon had said was true, and followed his example. “The dog’s terror,” he said. “Think of that, Luttrell! Seek for an explanation in that.” “I have, but I haven’t found one.” “Whom is it terrified of?” “Of you,” I answered. “The first time we saw him, I noticed that he was abjectly terrified of you.” “Perfectly true. Why should that be? Is it natural?” “Utterly unnatural,” I said. “Unless he’s been badly, brutally treated, and is afraid of everybody.” “He is not afraid of everybody. He is only afraid of me. Was he afraid of Lord Elyn?” “No.” “He is only afraid of me.” “Are you certain?” “Would you like to test it?” “How?” I asked. “I will leave the room for a moment—leave you alone with the dog.” “No!” I exclaimed. “You are afraid?” “I’m not a coward, but there’s something about this spaniel which horrifies my imagination as a spectre might horrify it.” “Nevertheless, you must summon your courage. I wish it. I wish to know how the spaniel will be with you when you are alone together. Come, make the experiment.” He got up and went towards the door. I did not try to keep him. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. And he went softly out of the room and shut the door behind him. When he had gone, I sat where I was, looking at the black blot on the floor by the sideboard. A strong curiosity was awake in me fighting my strange physical repulsion. I longed to put the thing to the test, yet I feared to approach the spaniel. How long I sat there I do not know, how long I might have sat there I cannot tell had nothing occurred to bias me towards action. But something did occur. The spaniel suddenly whimpered softly, as if to attract my attention, whimpered again and struck his feathery tail upon the floor. Those natural sounds of an anxious dog reassured me. I got up quickly and went over to the sideboard. Instantly, with a sort of strangled wail, the spaniel sprang up, put his forepaws on my legs, and thrust his hot nose into my hand, pushing, pushing hard, as if he sought to hide himself in a friendly shelter. I felt a wetness on my hand, the wetness of an animal’s tears. Then all my horror vanished and only pity remained. I knelt down on the carpet. I put my arms round the dog. I felt his trembling body with my hands. He was thin, hideously thin. His piteous eyes begged something of me. Still holding him with one arm, I stretched out the other, and opened a door in the sideboard. Within I saw a basket with some cut bread in it. I took out the bread. The spaniel sprang upon it passionately, tore it out of my hand, and devoured it ravenously. Then a wave of hot indignation went over me. At that moment I hated Vernon with all my soul. I hated him so much that I lost all sense of everything except my fury against him. I held the dog tightly as I