"And has he?"
"That I will leave your lordship to decide. The hanimal is now asleep on the terrace."
He led the way to where a brown heap lay in the sunshine. His lordship followed with some diffidence.
"An extraordinary likeness, your lordship."
Lord Bertie put up his eyeglass.
"By Jove, I should say it was. Do you mean to tell me----?"
"If your lordship will step forward and prod the animal, your lordship will be convinced by the amiability----"
"Prod him yourself," said Lord Bertie.
Keggs did so. The slumberer raised his head dreamily, and rolled over again. Lord Bertie was satisfied. He came forward and took a prod. With Reuben this would have led to a scene of extreme activity. The excellent substitute merely flopped back on his side again.
"By Jove! it's wonderful," he said.
"And if your lordship 'appens to have a cheque-book handy?"
"You're in a bally hurry," said Lord Bertie, complainingly.
"It's Roberts, your lordship," sighed Keggs. " 'E is a poor man, and 'e 'as a wife and children."
After lunch Aline was plaintive.
"I can't make out," she said, "what is the matter with Reuben. He doesn't seem to care for me any more. He won't come when I call. He wants to sleep all the time."
"Oh, he'll soon get used--I mean," added Lord Bertie, hastily, "he'll soon get over it. I expect he has been in the sun too much, don't you know?"
The substitute's lethargy continued during the rest of that day, but on the following morning after breakfast Lord Bertie observed him rolling along the terrace behind Aline. Presently the two settled themselves under the big sycamore tree, and his lordship sallied forth.
"And how is Reuben this morning?" he inquired, brightly.
"He's not very well, poor old thing," said Aline. "He was rather sick in the night."
"No, by Jove: really?"
"I think he must have eaten something that disagreed with him. That's why he was so quiet yesterday."
Lord Bertie glanced sympathetically at the brown mass on the ground. How wary one should be of judging by looks. To all appearances that dog there was Reuben, his foe. But beneath that Reuben-like exterior beat the gentle heart of the milk-coloured substitute, with whom he was on terms of easy friendship.
"Poor old fellow!" he said.
He bent down and gave the animal's ear a playful tweak. . . .
It was a simple action, an action from which one would hardly have expected anything in the nature of interesting by-products--yet it undoubtedly produced them. What exactly occurred Lord Bertie could not have said. There was a sort of explosion. The sleeping dog seemed to uncurl like a released watch-spring, and the air became full of a curious blend of sniff and snarl. An eminent general has said that the science of war lies in knowing when to fall back. Something, some instinct, seemed to tell Lord Bertie that the moment was ripe for falling back, and he did so over a chair.
He rose, with a scraped shin, to find Aline holding the dog's collar with both hands, her face flushed with the combination of wrath and muscular effort.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded fiercely. "I told you he was ill."
"I--I--I----" stammered his lordship.
The thing had been so sudden. The animal had gone off like a bomb.
"I--I----"
"Run!" she panted. "I can't hold him. Run! /Run!/"
Lord Bertie cast one look at the bristling animal, and decided that her advice was good and should be followed.
He had reached the road before he slowed to a walk. Then, feeling safe, he was about to light a cigarette, when the match fell from his fingers and he stood gaping.
Round the bend of the road, from the direction of Robert's cottage, there had appeared a large bulldog of a dingy-white colour.
Keggs, swathed in a green baize apron, was meditatively polishing Mr. Keith's silver in his own private pantry, humming an air as he worked, when Frederick, the footman, came to him. Frederick was a supercilious young man, with long legs and a receding chin.
"Polishing the silver, old top?" he inquired, genially.
"In answer to your question, Frederick," replied Keggs, with dignity, "I ham polishing the silver."
Frederick, in his opinion, needed to be kept in his place.
"His nibs is asking for you," said Frederick.
"You allude to----"
"Bertie," said Frederick, definitely.
"If," said Keggs, "Lord 'Erbert Fendall desires to see me, I will go to 'im at once."
"Another bit of luck for 'Erbert," said Frederick, cordially. " 'E's in the smoking-room."
"Your lordship wished to see me?"
Lord Bertie, who was rubbing his shin reflectively with his back to the door, wheeled, and glared balefully at the saintly figure before him.
"You bally old swindler!" he cried.
"Your lordship!"
"Do you know I could have you sent to prison for obtaining money under false pretences?"
"Your lordship!"
"Don't stand there pretending not to know what I mean."
"If your lordship would explain, I 'ave no doubt--"
"Explain! By Jove, I'll explain, if that's what you want. What do you mean by doping Reuben and palming him off on me as another dog? Is that plain enough?"
"The words is intelligible," conceded Keggs, "but the accusation is overwhelming."
"You bally old rogue!"
"Your lordship," said Keggs, soothingly, " 'as been deceived, has I predicted, by the reely extraordinary likeness. Roberts 'as undoubtedly eclipsed 'imself."
"Do you mean to tell me that dog is the one you showed me in the road? Then how do you account for this? I saw that milk-coloured brute of Roberts's out walking only a moment ago."
"Roberts 'as two, your lordship."
"What?"
"The himage of one another, your lordship."
"What?"
"Twins, your lordship," added the butler, softly.
Lord Bertie upset a chair.
"Your lordship," said Keggs, "if I may say so, 'as always from boy'ood up been a little too 'asty at jumping to conclusions. If your lordship will recollect, it was your lordship's 'asty assertion as a boy that you 'ad seen me occupied in purloining 'is lordship your father's port wine that led to my losing the excellent situation, which I might be still 'oldin', of butler at Stockleigh Castle."
Lord Bertie stared.
"Eh? What? So that----? I see!" he said. "By Jove, I see it all. You've been trying to get a bit of your own back. What?"
"Your lordship! I 'ave done nothing. 'Appily I can prove it."
"Prove it?"
The butler bowed.