of the family being out. The two had not been
together five minutes, and the peculiar manner seemed to convey to them,
'You were going to talk about me. Ha! Behold me here to prevent it!'

'Gowan is coming here?' said Blandois, with a smile.

Mrs Gowan replied he was not coming.

'Not coming!' said Blandois. 'Permit your devoted servant, when you
leave here, to escort you home.'

'Thank you: I am not going home.'

'Not going home!' said Blandois. 'Then I am forlorn.'

That he might be; but he was not so forlorn as to roam away and leave
them together. He sat entertaining them with his finest compliments, and
his choicest conversation; but he conveyed to them, all the time, 'No,
no, no, dear ladies. Behold me here expressly to prevent it!'

He conveyed it to them with so much meaning, and he had such a
diabolical persistency in him, that at length, Mrs Gowan rose to depart.
On his offering his hand to Mrs Gowan to lead her down the staircase,
she retained Little Dorrit's hand in hers, with a cautious pressure, and
said, 'No, thank you. But, if you will please to see if my boatman is
there, I shall be obliged to you.'

It left him no choice but to go down before them. As he did so, hat in
hand, Mrs Gowan whispered:

'He killed the dog.'

'Does Mr Gowan know it?' Little Dorrit whispered.

'No one knows it. Don't look towards me; look towards him. He will turn
his face in a moment. No one knows it, but I am sure he did. You are?'

'I--I think so,' Little Dorrit answered.

'Henry likes him, and he will not think ill of him; he is so generous
and open himself. But you and I feel sure that we think of him as he
deserves. He argued with Henry that the dog had been already poisoned
when he changed so, and sprang at him. Henry believes it, but we do not.
I see he is listening, but can't hear.

Good-bye, my love! Good-bye!'

The last words were spoken aloud, as the vigilant Blandois stopped,
turned his head, and looked at them from the bottom of the staircase.
Assuredly he did look then, though he looked his politest, as if any
real philanthropist could have desired no better employment than to lash
a great stone to his neck, and drop him into the water flowing beyond
the dark arched gateway in which he stood. No such benefactor to mankind
being on the spot, he handed Mrs Gowan to her boat, and stood there
until it had shot out of the narrow view; when he handed himself into
his own boat and followed.

Little D