"Don't let there be any mistake about it," he concluded. "I'm not going
to have any amateur life-savers burning holes in my body in the hope of
being recommended by the Coroner's Jury. If I've got to die, I'll just
go mad in the ordinary way, thank you. I wonder who I shall bite first,"
he added pleasantly.
"Don't you worry," said I. "Think what hydrophobia means."
"What does it mean?"--suspiciously.
"A horror of water," said I. "You must have had it for years."
* * * * *
We left the theatre about eleven o'clock.
We had just come in, and I was disrobing in the hall--Berry was speaking
to the chauffeur--when an exclamation from Jill, who was on the point of
following Daphne and Jonah into the library, made me look round.
On the top step of the first flight of stairs stood a little white dog,
regarding us squarely. He might have been painted by Maud Earl. His ears
were pricked, his little forefeet placed close together, his tail was
upright. A gas officer would have said that he was "in the alert
position."
"Hello, Nobby," said I. "How goes it?"
At the sound of his name the terrier put his small head on one side with
an air of curiosity as evident as it was attractive.
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