He subsequently rang up a man at his club, cancelled an engagement on the score of ill-health, and went to dress. Such was his elation that he even condescended to tell his servant that the dog had been found and was all right. Zero had done wrong. He must have known that he had done wrong; but he welcomed his master with gambols in the manner of an ecstatic bullock, and showed no sign of penitence at all. It was the habit of Richard to punish a dog that had done wrong, but he did not punish Zero. He called him a silly old idiot, and asked him what he thought he had been doing, but Zero recognised that this was badinage and exercised his tail furiously. At dinner, Mr Murray said that Zero was an interesting problem. The dog was apparently a fine judge at sight of the stability of structures, but could not find his way home. "That's not proved," said Richard, laughing. "He knew his way home all right, but he was trying to better himself. He's not fed at tea-time in St James's Place." "He's had nothing here," said Jane. "Really, Jane," said her father. "Practically nothing. A few biscuits and the least little bit of wedding-cake for luck." "Pity I didn't take him to the reception; then he could have had a vanilla ice as well." "Wrong," said Jane. "They hadn't got vanilla--only the esoteric sorts. I know, because I tried. Never you mind, Zero. When the election comes on, you shall wear papa's colours round your strengthy neck and kill all the collies of the opposition." "By the way," said Richard, "how's old Benham?" "Poor old chap, he's still dying," said Mr Murray. "It makes me feel a bit like a vulture, waiting for his death like this. Still, I suppose it can't be helped." Benham was the sitting member for Sidlington, and Mr Murray had been predestined to succeed him. Murray had fought two forlorn hopes for his party, and had pulled down majorities. He had fairly earned Sidlington--an absolutely safe seat. He had moderate means and no occupation. He had taken up with politics ten years before--shortly after the death of his wife--and had found politics a game that precisely suited him. The discussion for the remainder of dinner was mostly political, and Jane--as was generally the case when she chose to be serious--showed herself to be a remarkably well-informed and intelligent young woman. "I've no chance; she's too good for me," said Richard to himself--by no means for the first time--as he looked at her and listened to her with admiration. Jane had just left the two men to their cigars when a servant entered with a card for Mr Murray. "Where have you put him?" he asked the man. "The gentleman is in the library, sir." "Good! Say I'll be with him directly. Awfully sorry, Staines; this is a chap from Sidlington, and rather an important old cock down there." "Go to him, of course. That's all right."