“That’s a jolly good pen,” said Bertram indignantly.  “Every one says so.”

I grunted my disbelief.

“Which end shall I use?”

“I recommend the right one,” rejoined my host with ponderous sarcasm.  “But, as I have yet to meet any one who can read your writing, I don’t suppose it matters.”

“I have often deplored the company you keep,” said I, and with that I selected a large sheet of paper and wrote as follows—­

DEAR MISS CHILDE,

I’d like to have Nobby very much.  I’m awfully sorry for you, but I’ll be very kind to him for both your sakes.  The reference you give him is most satisfactory.  I suppose he’ll want one evening a week and every other Sunday.  And will he do in the front steps and spoil the knives?  Or only ruin the boots?  I beg your pardon.  For the moment I was thinking of the cook who nearly engaged us.  Only she wanted a pension after six months’ service.  It was very nice of you to think of me.  I’ll write you a proper letter when I send you a receipt.  I return to Town to-morrow.

Yours very sincerely,

....

P.S.—­He shall always sleep on mine.

As I was addressing the envelope, the butler entered the hall.  I gave him the letter, and he promised to see that it was dispatched that day.  A knowledge of Bertram’s household suggested this precaution.

* * * * *

As I had told Miss Childe, on the following day I returned to Town.  It was the last Monday but one before Christmas, and Jonah’s birthday.  To do the latter honour, we were to dine all together at Claridge’s and go on to an entertainment, presented in a house in which smoking was permitted, and of such a nature that you gained rather than lost by arriving late.

I reached home with sufficient time only to bathe and dress, and it was not until we were half-way through dinner that I learned that my letter to Miss Childe had borne immediate fruit.

“By the way,” said Daphne suddenly; “did the servants give you that message from Josephine Childe?” I shook my head.  “It was down on the telephone block, but I suppose you were too hurried to look at that.  ‘Miss Childe’s compliments, and Nobby will be round this evening.’” Hardly I suppressed an exclamation.  “We’re all mad to know what it means.  Berry scents an intrigue and says it’s a cipher.”

“Worse,” said I.  “It’s a dog.”

“A dog?” cried Daphne and Jill together.

“A dog.  You know.  A small quadruped.  Something like a cat, only with hair.”

“I know,” said Berry excitedly.  “I know.  I’ve seen pictures of them.”

“Fools.  Both of you,” said my sister.  “What’s she giving you a dog for?”

I explained the nature of the transaction.

“I have every reason to believe,” I concluded, “that he will become one of us.”

The others exchanged meaning looks.