“It was a difficult time for me, sir. Sir Roger was drinking hard and up most of the night, chasing after Black Jack, and he’d come in at four and five in the morning, and I had to wait up for him. The servants were a great trouble. Sir Roger hated to see any of the maids about the house, and when he sacked one of the girls he found dusting his study at seven one morning all of them gave notice. However, I calmed them down and got Sir Roger to raise their wages. After a time Black Jack took his gang elsewhere, and things were a bit more peaceful for a few days. “One day, early in February, Sir Roger drove up to town, taking Godson, the chauffeur, with him. He had said he’d be back about five, but it was a quarter past eight when they arrived--on foot. When I opened the door I knew that something had happened and that he’d had one of his rages. His face was always white and heavily lined after them, and his eyes looked swollen and red. He pushed past me without saying a word and began drinking whisky in his study. Presently he rang and said he would not dine, but that I was to bring him some sandwiches. When I got down to the servants’ hall I found Godson, sitting at the table, his head in his hands. He looked up at me, and his face was haggard. “‘I’m through!’ he said. ‘The ----’s mad, bloody mad’--he was never one to swear as a rule, sir. “‘What’s up?’ I asked, ‘where’s the car?’ “‘What’s up!’ he cried; ‘that ----’s up the pole! I tell you I’m through. I’ll tell you what sort of a blasted, bloody lunatic he is! When I met him at the Club I could see he’d been drinking, but he _would_ drive coming home. I’ve never seen him wilder, we ought to have been killed ten times. I was just beginning to think we’d get through when we reached that switchback in the woods near Ollen. I should think we touched 90 on the way down. As we reached the bottom I saw there was someone standing at the side of the road half-way up the hill. Suddenly he began braking hard and peering ahead. It was then I could see the chap in the road was Black Jack. Just as we were drawing up to him that dog of his bounded out into the road behind him. Then I felt the car swing. He drove her straight at Black Jack, missed him by a foot, and then swung back and caught the dog fair and square. The next thing I knew was that I was lying on my ear in a field. Both front tyres had gone, and we’d bust clean through a gate, bounced on the plough, and then turned half over in a dew-pond.’ “‘Well, His Highness was out in a flash, and I followed him back to the road. When we got there Black Jack was bending over the dog. When he saw us he picked it up and walked towards us. Sir Ruddy Roger went to meet him. Black Jack lifted his cap, and then held up the dog by the back of his neck. Its face was all bloody and dusty and smashed up. “‘Good evening, Sir Roger,’ said Black Jack. ‘Scottie’s dead all right, you got him at last, you got him!’