By dint of an immediate rush to the library door, we were just in time to see Berry slip on the parquet and, falling heavily, miss the terrier by what was a matter of inches, and by the time we had helped one another upstairs, the medley of worrying and imprecations which emanated from Daphne’s bedroom made it clear that the quarry had gone to ground.

As we drew breath in the doorway—­

“Get him from the other side!” yelled Berry, who was lying flat on his face, with one arm under the bed.  “Quick!  It may be unsporting, but I don’t care.  A-a-ah!” His voice rose to a menacing roar, as the rending of paper became distinctly audible.  “Stop it, you wicked swine!  D’you hear? Stop it!”

From beneath the bed a further burst of mischief answered him....

Once again feminine subtlety prevailed where the straightforward efforts of a man were fruitless.  As I flung myself down upon the opposite side of the bed—­

“Nobby,” said Jill in a stage whisper, “chocolates!”

The terrier paused in his work of destruction.  Then he dropped the mangled remains of the letter and put his head on one side.

“Chocolates!”

The next second he was scrambling towards the foot of the bed....

I gathered together the debris and rose to my feet.

Nobby was sitting up in front of Jill, begging irresistibly.

“What a shame!” said the latter.  “And I haven’t any for you.  And if I had, I mightn’t give you them.”  She looked round appealingly.  “Isn’t he cute?”

“Extraordinary how that word’ll fetch him,” said I.  “I think his late mistress must have——­”

“I’m sure she must,” said Berry, taking the ruins of his correspondence out of my hand.  “Perhaps she also taught him to collect stamps.  And / or crests.  And do you mean to say you’ve got no chocolates for him?  How shameful!  I’d better run round and knock up Gunter’s.  Shall I slip on a coat, or will the parquet do?”

“There’s no vice in him,” I said shakily.  “It was a misunderstanding.”

With an awful look Berry gingerly withdrew from what remained of the envelope some three-fifths of a dilapidated dividend warrant, which looked as if it had been immersed in water and angrily disputed by a number of rats.

“It’s—­it’s all right,” I said unsteadily.  “The company’ll give you another.”

“Give me air,” said Berry weakly.  “Open the wardrobe, somebody, and give me air.  You know, this is the violation of Belgium over again.  The little angel must have been the mascot of a double-breasted Jaeger battalion in full blast.”  With a shaking finger he indicated the cheque.  “Bearing this in mind, which would you say he was to-night—­useful or ornamental?”

“Neither the one, nor the other,” said I.  “Merely diverting.”

Expectantly my brother-in-law regarded the ceiling.

“I wonder what’s holding it,” he said.  “I suppose the whitewash has seized.  And now, if you’ll assist me downstairs and apply the usual restoratives, I’ll forgive you the two pounds I owe you.  There’s a letter I want to write before I retire.”