There was a faltering footstep outside, and Mr. Nickerson re-entered the room. The man appeared to have something on his mind. A glassy look was in his whisker-bordered eyes, and his mouth, though it was not easy to see it through the jungle, seemed to me to be sagging mournfully. He resembled a minor prophet who has been hit behind the ear with a stuffed eel-skin. “Mr. Ukridge!” “Hallo?” “The—the little dogs!” “Well?” “The little dogs!” “What about them?” “They have gone!” “Gone?” “Run away!” “Run away? How the devil could they run away?” “There seems to have been a loose board at the back of the shed. The little dogs must have wriggled through. There is no trace of them to be found.” Ukridge flung up his arms despairingly. He swelled like a captive balloon. His pince-nez rocked on his nose, his mackintosh flapped menacingly, and his collar sprang off its stud. He brought his fist down with a crash on the table. “Upon my Sam!” “I am extremely sorry——” “Upon my Sam!” cried Ukridge. “It’s hard. It’s pretty hard. I come down here to inaugurate a great business, which would eventually have brought trade and prosperity to the whole neighbourhood, and I have hardly had time to turn round and attend to the preliminary details of the enterprise when this man comes and sneaks my dogs. And now he tells me with a light laugh——” “Mr. Ukridge, I assure you——” “Tells me with a light laugh that they’ve gone. Gone! Gone where? Why, dash it, they may be all over the county. A fat chance I’ve got of ever seeing them again. Six valuable Pekingese, already educated practically to the stage where they could have been sold at an enormous profit——” Mr. Nickerson was fumbling guiltily, and now he produced from his pocket a crumpled wad of notes, which he thrust agitatedly upon Ukridge, who waved them away with loathing. “This gentleman,” boomed Ukridge, indicating me with a sweeping gesture, “happens to be a lawyer. It is extremely lucky that he chanced to come down to-day to pay me a visit. Have you followed the proceedings closely?” I said I had followed them very closely. “Is it your opinion that an action will lie?” I said it seemed highly probable, and this expert ruling appeared to put the final touch on Mr. Nickerson’s collapse. Almost tearfully he urged the notes on Ukridge. “What’s this?” said Ukridge, loftily. “I—I thought, Mr. Ukridge, that, if it were agreeable to you, you might consent to take your money back, and—and consider the episode closed.” Ukridge turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Ha!” he cried. “Ha, ha!” “Ha, ha!” I chorused, dutifully. “He thinks that he can close the episode by giving me my money back. Isn’t that rich?” “Fruity,” I agreed. “Those dogs were worth hundreds of pounds, and he thinks he can square me with a rotten twenty. Would you have believed it if you hadn’t heard it with your own ears, old horse?” “Never!”