ing the shawl-
swathed Louis in her arms. "He loves only me, and perhaps that is why I
love him so much in return. I don't care what you say against him, I am
not going to be separated from him. If you insist on going to Vienna you
must go alone, as far as I am concerned. I think it would be much more
sensible if you were to come to Brighton with Louis and me, but of course
you must please yourself."

"You must get rid of that dog," said Strudwarden's sister when Lena had
left the room; "it must be helped to some sudden and merciful end. Lena
is merely making use of it as an instrument for getting her own way on
dozens of occasions when she would otherwise be obliged to yield
gracefully to your wishes or to the general convenience. I am convinced
that she doesn't care a brass button about the animal itself. When her
friends are buzzing round her at Brighton or anywhere else and the dog
would be in the way, it has to spend whole days alone with the maid, but
if you want Lena to go with you anywhere where she doesn't want to go
instantly she trots out the excuse that she couldn't be separated from
her dog. Have you ever come into a room unobserved and heard Lena
talking to her beloved pet? I never have. I believe she only fusses
over it when there's some one present to notice her."

"I don't mind admitting," said Strudwarden, "that I've dwelt more than
once lately on the possibility of some fatal accident putting an end to
Louis's existence. It's not very easy, though, to arrange a fatality for
a creature that spends most of its time in a muff or asleep in a toy
kennel. I don't think poison would be any good; it's obviously horribly
over-fed, for I've seen Lena offer it dainties at table sometimes, but it
never seems to eat them."

"Lena will be away at church on Wednesday morning," said Elsie
Strudwarden reflectively; "she can't take Louis with her there, and she
is going on to the Dellings for lunch. That will give you several hours
in which to carry out your purpose. The maid will be flirting with the
chauffeur most of the time, and, anyhow, I can manage to keep her out of
the way on some pretext or other."

"That leaves the field clear," said Strudwarden, "but unfortunately my
brain is equally a blank as far as any lethal project is concerned. The
little beast is so monstrously inactive; I can't pretend that it leapt
into the bath and drowned itself, or that it took on the butcher's
mastiff in unequ