“Of course you never shoot or hunt?”
“Never.”
“I do,” I said. “But I am not such a contemptible hypocrite as to deny
that cruelty, and often very gross cruelty, enters into sport.”
Deeming slightly smiled.
“Do you keep any pets?” said Vernon to him, rather sharply.
“Yes. I have a dog at home, a black spaniel; and you?”
“No. For years I have kept no animals. I shall never keep one again.”
“That surprises me. You would give them a remarkably good time, I feel
sure.”
“I have a reason.”
“May I ask what it is?”
“Certainly. I once had a dog that I—that I cared about. She was out
with me one day in London and disappeared. I made every possible
inquiry, offered a reward, went to the Dogs’ Home, but I couldn’t find
her. Eventually, through an odd chain of circumstances that I needn’t
trouble you with, I learnt her fate.”
“What was it?” I asked.
“She had been picked up by a dog-stealer and sold to the proprietor of
an establishment called ‘Lilac Hall,’ near London.”
“An establishment?” I said, struck by the tone in which he had uttered
the words.
“Where a large number—stock, I’ll say—of animals of all kinds, horses,
cats, rabbits, guinea-pigs, dogs, was kept on hand for scientific
purposes. My companion and friend died under the knife of the
vivisector. What do you think of the food here? They’ve got a new
_chef_.”
“I—I—oh, it’s very good, I think; it’s excellent.”
Deeming seemed startled by the sudden change of topic, and when we went
into the hall to smoke he tried to return to the discussion. But Vernon
did not rise to the bait he threw out, and at last frankly said—
“You’d much better not get me on to the subject of animals. I am really
a bore when I let myself loose, as I did at dinner. And I am quite sure
you”—and he met Deeming’s eyes—“don’t agree with my views. Are you
staying long in Rome?”
“Till I feel quite set up again and ready for work.”
“Then I’ll hope you’ll come and see me.”
He gave his card to Deeming, and soon after went away.
I felt sure he had asked Deeming to call in order to please me. My two
friends, I feared, had not taken a fancy to each other. One curious
thing struck me as I watched Vernon’s tall figure going out through
the doorway to the street. It was this—that I knew a side of Vernon’s,
and a side of Deeming’s character that had been hitherto completely
concealed from me. Each had elicited a frankness from the other that I,
of whom they were fond, had not been able to bring forth.
Their two enmities—so I thought of it—had clashed together and struck
out sparks of truth.
By the way, Vernon’s last remark to me in the outer hall of the hotel,
whither I had accompanied him, leaving Deeming in the winter-garden,
was this—
“I shouldn’t care to be Deeming’s black spaniel.”