again.
‘Come, boy,’ said Mrs Bradley, holding out her hand to the dog.
‘Poor old chap! He’s hungry. Wonder what’s left of the buffet supper?’ said Laura. The great hound wandered in. His friendly, unintelligent, square head was lifted to Mrs Bradley’s caress. The luminous spottings on his coat were rendered invisible under the strong electric light of the ballroom. Mrs Bradley talked to him quietly and confidentially while Laura foraged. He was fed.
‘And now, friend,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘outside for you.’ The dog sighed and did her bidding. Laura closed the heavy door and looked enquiringly at her employer. Mrs Bradley laughed, and then looked thoughtful.
‘I wonder why?’ she said. ‘We had better let the others know that the dog did not tear us in pieces.’
‘They don’t deserve to know it, the silly haddocks,’ said Laura. ‘Let them trickle back when they think the coast might be clear. Talk about Bottom with the ass’s head on him! They ought to be impersonating Quince and Co. But isn’t it just a bit odd?’
‘What is?’ Mrs Bradley enquired.
‘Why, that Sir Bohun ran away, too. After all, I suppose he was responsible.’
‘For what, child?’
‘Beth-Gelert, or whatever the hound is called.’
Mrs Bradley shook her head.
‘I don’t think Sir Bohun knew anything about the dog,’ she said, ‘for if he had known about it he would not have run away with the rest of the party, but would have remained here with us to enjoy the success of his surprise item.’
She went to the door which opened into the hall and pushed at it. A sheepish collection of individuals followed their host into the room.
‘Well, well! Well, well, well!’ said Sir Bohun, rubbing his hands together. ‘Where has that fine fellow gone? Your idea, Beatrice, I take it? Vastly entertaining, I must say. Wish I’d thought of it myself! Oh, very good! But how did you get him here? You didn’t bring him from Kensington?’
‘I didn’t bring him at all,’ Mrs Bradley composedly replied. ‘I know no more about him than you do.’
‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ interposed Brenda Dance, ‘if it means the band has turned up, Boo, darling. I expect the dog is their mascot, and they painted him up to help out the Sherlock Holmes party. They’ll probably expect a thumping tip.’
‘Might have frightened some of you ladies into a fit,’ remarked Sir Bohun, ignoring his own ignominious flight from the Hound of the Baskervilles , ‘and that’s what I shall say to them. Go out, Bell, and tell Cummins to send them in. They’ve delayed us long enough already. We’ll just give them time to warm up, and, meanwhile, we’d better cast our votes.’
Bell went out, but returned shortly to inform his employer that there was still no sign of the orchestra.
‘So the dog wasn’t theirs,’ remarked Laura. ‘We turned him out again on to the terrace. I’d better go out and make certain he doesn’t eat the band if they do turn out.’
‘No, no, Miss Laura. I’ll go,’ said Toby Dance chivalrously. ‘It’s damned foggy and cold out there.’ He did not wait for Laura to answer, but went out of the room, flinging back the end of the sentence as he shut the door behind him.
‘I hope he’s got a torch,’ said Bell. ‘Hullo! What’s happened to Miss Campbell? She hasn’t come back into the room.’
Linda came in at that moment, escorted by Dance.
‘There you are, you see. It’s quite all right,’ he was saying as he led her up to the fire and put her into a chair.
‘Hullo, m’dear,’ said Sir Bohun, looking gravely concerned. ‘Gave you a bit of a turn? I’m sorry about that. But no fault of mine, as you’ll realize.’
Linda Campbell tried to smile, but her face was stiff with fright.
‘Basil, go and get her some brandy. She’s had a shock,’ said Brenda Dance, at once. Grimston, looking thunderous, went out for the restorative, and when he came back he announced that the orchestra
‘Come, boy,’ said Mrs Bradley, holding out her hand to the dog.
‘Poor old chap! He’s hungry. Wonder what’s left of the buffet supper?’ said Laura. The great hound wandered in. His friendly, unintelligent, square head was lifted to Mrs Bradley’s caress. The luminous spottings on his coat were rendered invisible under the strong electric light of the ballroom. Mrs Bradley talked to him quietly and confidentially while Laura foraged. He was fed.
‘And now, friend,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘outside for you.’ The dog sighed and did her bidding. Laura closed the heavy door and looked enquiringly at her employer. Mrs Bradley laughed, and then looked thoughtful.
‘I wonder why?’ she said. ‘We had better let the others know that the dog did not tear us in pieces.’
‘They don’t deserve to know it, the silly haddocks,’ said Laura. ‘Let them trickle back when they think the coast might be clear. Talk about Bottom with the ass’s head on him! They ought to be impersonating Quince and Co. But isn’t it just a bit odd?’
‘What is?’ Mrs Bradley enquired.
‘Why, that Sir Bohun ran away, too. After all, I suppose he was responsible.’
‘For what, child?’
‘Beth-Gelert, or whatever the hound is called.’
Mrs Bradley shook her head.
‘I don’t think Sir Bohun knew anything about the dog,’ she said, ‘for if he had known about it he would not have run away with the rest of the party, but would have remained here with us to enjoy the success of his surprise item.’
She went to the door which opened into the hall and pushed at it. A sheepish collection of individuals followed their host into the room.
‘Well, well! Well, well, well!’ said Sir Bohun, rubbing his hands together. ‘Where has that fine fellow gone? Your idea, Beatrice, I take it? Vastly entertaining, I must say. Wish I’d thought of it myself! Oh, very good! But how did you get him here? You didn’t bring him from Kensington?’
‘I didn’t bring him at all,’ Mrs Bradley composedly replied. ‘I know no more about him than you do.’
‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ interposed Brenda Dance, ‘if it means the band has turned up, Boo, darling. I expect the dog is their mascot, and they painted him up to help out the Sherlock Holmes party. They’ll probably expect a thumping tip.’
‘Might have frightened some of you ladies into a fit,’ remarked Sir Bohun, ignoring his own ignominious flight from the Hound of the Baskervilles , ‘and that’s what I shall say to them. Go out, Bell, and tell Cummins to send them in. They’ve delayed us long enough already. We’ll just give them time to warm up, and, meanwhile, we’d better cast our votes.’
Bell went out, but returned shortly to inform his employer that there was still no sign of the orchestra.
‘So the dog wasn’t theirs,’ remarked Laura. ‘We turned him out again on to the terrace. I’d better go out and make certain he doesn’t eat the band if they do turn out.’
‘No, no, Miss Laura. I’ll go,’ said Toby Dance chivalrously. ‘It’s damned foggy and cold out there.’ He did not wait for Laura to answer, but went out of the room, flinging back the end of the sentence as he shut the door behind him.
‘I hope he’s got a torch,’ said Bell. ‘Hullo! What’s happened to Miss Campbell? She hasn’t come back into the room.’
Linda came in at that moment, escorted by Dance.
‘There you are, you see. It’s quite all right,’ he was saying as he led her up to the fire and put her into a chair.
‘Hullo, m’dear,’ said Sir Bohun, looking gravely concerned. ‘Gave you a bit of a turn? I’m sorry about that. But no fault of mine, as you’ll realize.’
Linda Campbell tried to smile, but her face was stiff with fright.
‘Basil, go and get her some brandy. She’s had a shock,’ said Brenda Dance, at once. Grimston, looking thunderous, went out for the restorative, and when he came back he announced that the orchestra
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