"How do you know that?" asked Sir Percival, speaking first.

"I found the dog here, dying, on the day when you all returned from
abroad," I replied. "The poor creature had strayed into the
plantation, and had been shot by your keeper."

"Whose dog was it?" inquired Sir Percival. "Not one of mine?"

"Did you try to save the poor thing?" asked Laura earnestly. "Surely
you tried to save it, Marian?"

"Yes," I said, "the housekeeper and I both did our best--but the dog
was mortally wounded, and he died under our hands."

"Whose dog was it?" persisted Sir Percival, repeating his question a
little irritably. "One of mine?"

"No, not one of yours."

"Whose then? Did the housekeeper know?"

The housekeeper's report of Mrs. Catherick's desire to conceal her
visit to Blackwater Park from Sir Percival's knowledge recurred to my
memory the moment he put that last question, and I half doubted the
discretion of answering it; but in my anxiety to quiet the general
alarm, I had thoughtlessly advanced too far to draw back, except at the
risk of exciting suspicion, which might only make matters worse. There
was nothing for it but to answer at once, without reference to results.

"Yes," I said. "The housekeeper knew. She told me it was Mrs.
Catherick's dog."

Sir Percival had hitherto remained at the inner end of the boat-house
with Count Fosco, while I spoke to him from the door. But the instant
Mrs. Catherick's name passed my lips he pushed by the Count roughly,
and placed himself face to face with me under the open daylight.

"How came the housekeeper to know it was Mrs. Catherick's dog?" he
asked, fixing his eyes on mine with a frowning interest and attention,
which half angered, half startled me.

"She knew it," I said quietly, "because Mrs. Catherick brought the dog
with her."

"Brought it with her? Where did she bring it with her?"

"To this house."

"What the devil did Mrs. Catherick want at this house?"

The manner in which he put the question was even more offensive than
the language in which he expressed it. I marked my sense of his want
of common politeness by silently turning away from him.

Just as I moved the Count's persuasive hand was laid on his shoulder,
and the Count's mellifluous voice interposed to quiet him.

"My dear Percival!--gently--gently!"

Sir Percival looked round in his angriest manner. The Count only
smiled and repeated the soothing application.

"Gently, my good frien