I drew a deep breath of relief. I had played a desperate game--but I had won! I could have wished, to be sure, that my mother had not thought of bringing in Travers on that of all evenings--but I hoped that I could defy him after this.

The Colonel and his people were the first to arrive; he and his wife being so effusively grateful that they made me very uncomfortable indeed; Lilian met me with downcast eyes, and the faintest possible blush, but she said nothing just then. Five minutes afterwards, when she and I were alone together in the conservatory, where I had brought her on pretence of showing a new begonia, she laid her hand on my sleeve and whispered, almost shyly, "Mr. Weatherhead--Algernon! Can you ever forgive me for being so cruel and unjust to you?" And I replied that, upon the whole, I could.

We were not in that conservatory long, but, before we left it, beautiful Lilian Roseblade had consented to make my life happy. When we re-entered the drawing-room, we found Frank Travers, who had been told the story of the recovery, and I observed his jaw fall as he glanced at our faces, and noted the triumphant smile which I have no doubt mine wore, and the tender dreamy look in Lilian"s soft eyes. Poor Travers, I was sorry for him, although I was not fond of him. Travers was a good type of the rising young Common Law barrister; tall, not bad-looking, with keen dark eyes, black whiskers, and the mobile forensic mouth, which can express every shade of feeling, from deferential a.s.sent to cynical incredulity; possessed, too, of an endless flow of conversation that was decidedly agreeable, if a trifle too laboriously so, he had been a dangerous rival. But all that was over now--he saw it himself at once, and during dinner sank into dismal silence, gazing pathetically at Lilian, and sighing almost obtrusively between the courses. His stream of small talk seemed to have been cut off at the main.

"You"ve done a kind thing, Weatherhead," said the Colonel. "I can"t tell you all that dog is to me, and how I missed the poor beast. I"d quite given up all hope of ever seeing him again, and all the time there was Weatherhead, Mr. Travers, quietly searching all London till he found him! I shan"t forget it. It shows a really kind feeling."

I saw by Travers"s face that he was telling himself he would have found fifty Bingos in half the time--if he had only thought of it; he smiled a melancholy a.s.sent to all the Colonel said, and then began to study me with an obviously depreciatory air.

"You can"t think," I heard Mrs. Currie telling my mother, "how really _touching_ it was to see poor dear Bingo"s emotion at seeing all the old familiar objects again! He went up and sniffed at them all in turn, quite plainly recognising everything. And he was quite put out to find that we had moved his favourite ottoman out of the drawing-room. But he _is_ so penitent, too, and so ashamed of having run away; he hardly dares to come when John calls him, and he kept under a chair in the hall all the morning--he wouldn"t come in here either, so we had to leave him in your garden."

"He"s been sadly out of spirits all day," said Lilian; "he hasn"t bitten one of the tradespeople."

"Oh, _he"s_ all right, the rascal!" said the Colonel, cheerily; "he"ll be after the cats again as well as ever in a day or two."

"Ah, those cats!" said my poor innocent mother. "Algy, you haven"t tried the air-gun on them again lately, have you? They"re worse than ever."

I troubled the Colonel to pa.s.s the claret; Travers laughed for the first time. "That"s a good idea," he said, in that carrying "bar-mess" voice of his; "an air-gun for cats, ha, ha! Make good bags, eh, Weatherhead?"

I said that I did, _very_ good bags, and felt I was getting painfully red in the face.

"Oh, Algy is an excellent shot--quite a sportsman," said my mother. "I remember, oh, long ago, when we lived at Hammersmith, he had a pistol, and he used to strew crumbs in the garden for the sparrows, and shoot at them out of the pantry window; he frequently hit one."

"Well," said the Colonel, not much impressed by these sporting reminiscences, "don"t go rolling over our Bingo by mistake, you know, Weatherhead, my boy. Not but what you"ve a sort of right after this--only don"t. I wouldn"t go through it all twice for anything."

"If you really won"t take any more wine," I said hurriedly, addressing the Colonel and Travers, "suppose we all go out and have our coffee on the lawn? It--it will be cooler there." For it was getting very hot indoors, I thought.

I left Travers to amuse the ladies--he could do no more harm now; and taking the Colonel aside, I seized the opportunity, as we strolled up and down the garden path, to ask his consent to Lilian"s engagement to me. He gave it cordially. "There"s not a man in England," he said, "that I"d sooner see her married to after to-day. You"re a quiet steady young fellow, and you"ve a good kind heart. As for the money, that"s neither here nor there; Lilian won"t come to you without a penny, you know. But really, my boy, you can hardly believe what it is to my poor wife and me to see that dog. Why, bless my soul, look at him now! What"s the matter with him, eh?"

To my unutterable horror I saw that that miserable poodle, after begging unnoticed at the tea-table for some time, had retired to an open s.p.a.ce before it, where he was now industriously standing on his head.

We gathered round and examined the animal curiously, as he continued to balance himself gravely in his abnormal position. "Good gracious, John,"

cried Mrs. Currie, "I never saw Bingo do such a thing before in his life!"

"Very odd," said the Colonel, putting up his gla.s.ses; "never learnt that from _me_."

"I tell you what I fancy it is," I suggested wildly. "You see, he was always a sensitive, excitable animal, and perhaps the--the sudden joy of his return has gone to his head--_upset_ him, you know."

They seemed disposed to accept this solution, and indeed I believe they would have credited Bingo with every conceivable degree of sensibility; but I felt myself that if this unhappy animal had many more of these accomplishments I was undone, for the original Bingo had never been a dog of parts.

"It"s very odd," said Travers, reflectively, as the dog recovered his proper level, "but I always thought that it was half the _right_ ear that Bingo had lost?"

"So it is, isn"t it?" said the Colonel. "Left, eh? Well, I thought myself it was the right."

My heart almost stopped with terror--I had altogether forgotten that. I hastened to set the point at rest. "Oh, it _was_ the left," I said positively; "I know it because I remember so particularly thinking how odd it was that it _should_ be the left ear, and not the right!" I told myself this should be positively my last lie.

"_Why_ odd?" asked Frank Travers, with his most offensive Socratic manner.

"My dear fellow, I can"t tell you," I said impatiently; "everything seems odd when you come to think at all about it."

"Algernon," said Lilian later on, "will you tell Aunt Mary and Mr.

Travers, and--and me, how it was you came to find Bingo? Mr. Travers is quite anxious to hear all about it."

I could not very well refuse; I sat down and told the story, all my own way. I painted Blagg, perhaps, rather bigger and blacker than life, and described an exciting scene, in which I recognised Bingo by his collar in the streets, and claimed and bore him off then and there in spite of all opposition.

I had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing Travers grinding his teeth with envy as I went on, and feeling Lilian"s soft, slender hand glide silently into mine as I told my tale in the twilight.

All at once, just as I reached the climax, we heard the poodle barking furiously at the hedge which separated my garden from the road. "There"s a foreign-looking man staring over the hedge," said Lilian; "Bingo always _did_ hate foreigners."

There certainly was a swarthy man there, and, though I had no reason for it then, somehow my heart died within me at the sight of him.

"Don"t be alarmed, sir," cried the Colonel, "the dog won"t bite you--unless there"s a hole in the hedge anywhere."

The stranger took off his small straw hat with a sweep. "Ah, I am not afraid," he said, and his accent proclaimed him a Frenchman, "he is not enrage at me. May I ask, is it pairmeet to speak wiz Misterre Vezzered?"

I felt I must deal with this person alone, for I feared the worst; and, asking them to excuse me, I went to the hedge and faced the Frenchman with the frightful calm of despair. He was a short, stout little man, with blue cheeks, sparkling black eyes, and a vivacious walnut-coloured countenance; he wore a short black alpaca coat, and a large white cravat with an immense oval malachite brooch in the centre of it, which I mention because I found myself staring mechanically at it during the interview.

"My name is Weatherhead," I began, with the bearing of a detected pickpocket. "Can I be of any service to you?"

"Of a great service," he said emphatically; "you can restore to me ze poodle vich I see zere!"

Nemesis had called at last in the shape of a rival claimant. I staggered for an instant; then I said, "Oh, I think you are under a mistake--that dog is not mine."

"I know it," he said; "zere "as been leetle mistake, so if ze dog is not to you, you give him back to me, _hein_?"

"I tell you," I said, "that poodle belongs to the gentleman over there."

And I pointed to the Colonel, seeing that it was best now to bring him into the affair without delay.

"You are wrong," he said doggedly; "ze poodle is my poodle! And I was direct to you--it is your name on ze carte!" And he presented me with that fatal card which I had been foolish enough to give to Blagg as a proof of my ident.i.ty. I saw it all now; the old villain had betrayed me, and to earn a double reward had put the real owner on my track.

I decided to call the Colonel at once, and attempt to brazen it out with the help of his sincere belief in the dog.

"Eh, what"s that; what"s it all about?" said the Colonel, bustling up, followed at intervals by the others.

The Frenchman raised his hat again. "I do not vant to make a trouble,"

he began, "but zere is leetle mistake. My word of honour, sare, I see my own poodle in your garden. Ven I appeal to zis gentilman to restore "im he reffer me to you."

"You must allow me to know my own dog, sir," said the Colonel. "Why, I"ve had him from a pup. Bingo, old boy, you know your master, don"t you?"

But the brute ignored him altogether, and began to leap wildly at the hedge, in frantic efforts to join the Frenchman. It needed no Solomon to decide _his_ ownership!

"I tell you, you "ave got ze wrong poodle--it is my own dog, my Azor! He remember me well, you see? I lose him it is three, four days.... I see a nottice zat he is found, and ven I go to ze address zey tell me, "Oh, he is reclaim, he is gone wiz a strangaire who has advertise." Zey show me ze placard, I follow "ere, and ven I arrive, I see my poodle in ze garden before me!"

"But look here," said the Colonel, impatiently; "it"s all very well to say that, but how can you prove it? I give you _my_ word that the dog belongs to _me_! You must prove your claim, eh, Travers?"

"Yes," said Travers, judicially, "mere a.s.sertion is no proof: it"s oath against oath, at present."

"Attend an instant--your poodle was he "ighly train, had he some talents--a dog viz tricks, eh?"

"No, he"s not," said the Colonel; "I don"t like to see dogs taught to play the fool--there"s none of that nonsense about _him_, sir!"