The 101 Dalmatians by Dodie Smith

them was a policeman.
    Instantly Pongo led the way into a back street, and they were soon safely out of the policeman’s sight. But seeing him had reminded Missis of something.
    â€œOh, Pongo!” she wailed. “We are illegal. We are out without our collars.”
    â€œAnd a good thing, too,” said Pongo, “for a dog can be grabbed by the collar. But I do wish we could have brought your coat.” He had noticed that she was shivering again—though this time it was because she had been scared by the policeman.
    â€œI don‘t,” said Missis bravely. “For if I wore a coat, how should I know how cold the puppies were? They have no coats. Oh, Pongo, how can they make the journey from Suffolk in such wintry weather? Suppose it snows?”
    â€œThey may not have to make the journey yet,” said Pongo.
    Missis stared in astonishment. “But we must get them back quickly or the dog thieves will sell them.”
    â€œNothing will happen to them yet,” said Pongo. And now he knew it was time to tell his wife the truth. “Let’s rest a moment,” he said, and led Missis into the shelter of a doorway. Then he went on gently.
    â€œDear Missis, our puppies were not stolen by ordinary dog thieves. Try not to be too frightened. Remember we are going to rescue them. Our puppies were stolen by Cruella de Vil’s orders—so that she can have their skins made into a fur coat. Oh, Missis, be brave!”
    Missis had collapsed. She lay on the doorstep, panting, her eyes full of horror.
    â€œBut it will be all right, dear Missis! They will be safe for months yet. They are much too small to be—to be used for a fur coat yet.”
    Missis shuddered. Then she struggled to her feet.
    â€œI will go back!” she cried. “I will go back and tear Cruella De Vil to pieces.”
    â€œThat would do no good at all,” said Pongo firmly. “We must rescue the puppies first and think of our revenge later. On to Suffolk!”
    â€œOn to Suffolk, then!” said Missis, staggering along on shaky legs. “But we shall come back, Cruella de Vil!”
    Soon Missis began to feel better, for Pongo made her see that puppies whose skins were wanted for a fur coat would be well fed and well taken care of, and kept together. Ordinary dog thieves might have sold them already, and to different people. She asked him many questions, and he told of his early suspicions—how he had suddenly recalled the evening they had first seen Cruella and sat under the piano in the red drawing room.
    â€œShe said we would make enchanting fur coats, Missis.”
    â€œFor spring wear, over a black suit,” said Missis, remembering. “And she did take a lot of interest in the puppies.”
    â€œAnd she kept Nanny Cook talking while they were stolen,” said Pongo. “But I wasn’t quite sure until this evening, at the Twilight Barking. You didn’t hear as much as I did, Missis. Our puppies are at Hell Hall, the ancestral home of the de Vils.”
    And he knew, though he kept this from Missis, that the S.O.S. on the old bone meant “Save Our Skins.”

At the Old Inn
    PONGO had no difficulty in taking the right road out of London, for he and Mr. Dearly had done much motoring in their bachelor days and often driven to Suffolk. Mile after mile the two dogs ran through the deserted streets, as the December night grew colder. At last London was left behind and, just before dawn, they reached a village in Epping Forest where they hoped to spend the day.
    They had decided they must always travel by night and rest during daylight. For they felt sure Mr. Dearly would advertise their loss and the police would be on the lookout for them. There was far less chance of their being seen and caught by night.
    They had barely entered the sleeping village when they heard a quiet bark. The next moment a burly Golden Retriever was greeting them.
    â€œPongo and