“I do believe the sight of Roger, who saw you murder Mary, has put you
clean out of your wits, Sally, my dear.”
“And what about you and your wits, bringing the beast here----!”
She rushed at poor Roger, who squatted at the extreme length of his
cord, staring at her calmly, boldly, as if inviting her to stick him
with the knife she brandished. He was never like any other dog. He did
not plunge or bark. I saved him, I took the knife out of her hand, and
flung it into a meal-tub close by.
“Fool, fool!” she yelled, but I put my hand over her mouth, and forced
her back on the tub, so that she sat on the knife. I was so sure she
was going mad that it made me calm and strong, and I tried to soothe
her and speak gently to her, as one does to an invalid.
“What do you want to kill my poor old dog for, Sally?”
“I must. I must. He’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous without a sound tooth in his head?”
“He has a tongue in his head----”
She looked at me narrowly, dragging down the outside corners of her
eyelids like a bulldog. Then she pulled the fronts of her nightdress
to, and tried to speak reasonably. She succeeded more or less, but it
was a great effort to her.
“Don’t you know what has happened here while you have been away
sulking at the other end of the world?”
I said nothing on purpose, so as not to put her back up. She stood
staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I was so long, she
began to shake in the cold.… And Sally never could keep quiet for
long. Her temper broke out and she shouted at me.
“Don’t look so stupid, George!… God, it sends me mad!”
“Dear, try and tell me quietly.” I sat down on an empty barrel. “Come
here. Sit on my knee----”
She waved me away. She moistened her lips. “Don’t treat me like a
child or a madwoman, George. It is serious, sober earnest. I am
telling you facts--not lies. The police--damn them!--have got a new
weapon, and they use it for all it is worth.…”
She wrung her hands and walked up and down.
“Oh, to think that all this time we have made pets of these wretched
animals, and trusted them--I had a pet dog once--I put it away because
it watched me, though I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Yes, we used to
let them go about with us, and see all we did, and listen to all we
said! Who minded talking secrets with an animal in the room, or doing
anything one liked in a whole farmyard of beasts--then? We didn’t know
that dog of yours was lying at the foot of the bed when Mary was done
for: I never even thought of him! We actually let him go with us to
the edge of the shaft and see us throw her in! God, what fools we
were!”
“But what can a dog do, you silly darling?”
“He can get us hanged! Get us both hanged! Why, your beast there--the
very moment he got into England he must have learnt his power; he must
have blabbed our whole story, and to that animal of Dysart’s, too, the
very last person----!”