“You never looked at a paper, you tell me, and yet they were full of
it two years ago--the wonderful new discovery. Since then I’ve never
known a moment’s peace. My life has been hell. You may thank your
stars you were out of it and had left me to bear the whole brunt of
it.”
“For goodness’ sake explain!” I said crossly.
She came quite close to me and whispered, “The police! It’s a new
dodge of the police. I hate ’em and their filthy methods! They get
hold of animals--dogs preferred, because they’re more intelligent--and
shut them down there in cellars, behind locked doors, and then they
torture them, rack them.… George, can you bear the idea of Roger
tortured, racked,--kept without water for a week! Oh, if you had
heard, as I have, scores of times, only I’ve run away and said nothing
because of my guilty conscience--if you’d heard the pitiful howls and
whines at the back of the police station there, and knew that some
poor helpless beast was being made to betray and give evidence----”
“But I don’t see how a dog, or any animal indeed, could let on to what
it knew even if it tried,” I said, as grave as a judge, to pacify her.
“Oh, that’s a mere matter of detail. The police have got a code--they
manage to communicate with the beasts. They count the barks----”
“Ha! ha!” I laughed.
“Don’t dare to laugh, you ignorant fool. Have you never heard of those
spiritualist affairs? The spirits rap, and the medium tells you what
they are saying. Well, the dog barks--it comes to the same thing----”
She sighed deeply and seemed relieved. It was now quite day. Her
candle flared. She was waiting for me to speak. I was thinking of what
would be the most soothing thing to say.… It would not come. I was at
my wits’ end. The only thing I could think of was to get her back to
bed and send for a doctor.
I moved slightly in my indecision. She caught my hand. Hers was very
hot.
“George, what are you going to do? I’ve explained clearly, haven’t I?”
“Quite.” I had now fixed on a plan of action.
“And now, Sally darling,” I said softly, “just you get back to bed,
and I’ll settle Roger, and then I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea.”
That plan failed. She screamed, and beat the air with her hands.
“Settle him? Not you. It takes a man to do that--or a woman like me!
No, I know you. You want me to go quietly, while you untie the dog,
and let him go free to get us hanged--me, at any rate. I murdered
Mary--you only looked on. And your dog. What’ll _you_ get? I shall
swing for it. He’s sure to have told Dysart’s dog, and the police’ll
get wind of it--Dysart’ll take care of that. He’s only waiting--has
been these ten years. And then they can howk Mary up--what’s left of
her--and the damned dog’ll tell them who put her there.”
“Do you suppose Roger would betray us?” I said, humouring her. She was
crying now, violently, against my heart.
“But, George--under torture--there is no knowing what he might do. Is
there, Roger?”
She left me, contemptuously, and bending down a little, spoke to Roger
as if he were a human being. That gave me a turn, and I felt very
queer. She seemed so sure of herself, and her tale. Roger appeared to
listen. He barked three times… then four times… then more. I lost
count. But Sally didn’t, apparently. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve
of her nightgown, tossed her head back and cried triumphantly--
“There, he says I had better warn you! He can’t be quite sure--he’s
not so young as he was--his power of endurance is weakened! That’s
what he says, as well as he can--to me who understand him.… Did you
notice,” she continued, “how Dysart’s dog limps? Well, that’s
because--every one knows it, though it’s supposed to be a secret--the
police examined him--tormented, I call it--a year ago, in connection
with a case of arson. Dysart’s ricks were set on fire----” she
chuckled.
“Who was accused?”
“Me.”
“And did you----”
“That’s not the point. But Dysart’s dog was got to admit that he had
seen one of my men loitering about at an awkward time--the time when
it happened, in fact. The police couldn’t make anything of his
evidence--it was too scanty, luckily; but all the same, he’s gone lame
ever since. I hate the police as I hate sin.… Brutes they are!… Roger,
good dog, tell me how did you learn the code in this short time?”
Roger barked gently, a little chain of barks.
“From Dysart’s dog, he says. It’s quite simple. Well, George, look
here--no, I’m not cold when I’m interested--I’ll go on getting it from
Roger, and perhaps I’ll be able to convince you that for his own sake,
Roger had better be put out of the way. He wishes it.…”
“I _am_ convinced,” I said. I was convinced that she was off her head
on this particular point, and that a good rest would set her right. I
put my arm round her, and tried to kiss her and lead her away. But she
pushed me off.
“Go and sit over there. Don’t worry me. I want all my wits about me
now, and once you see the danger--if you love me you won’t set the
life of an old toothless, worn-out dog against mine, for that’s what
it comes to.”
“I do love you, Sally.… Now, Roger, stand and deliver. Answer the
lady.”
There is no good fighting hallucinations, it is best to humour them.
Any doctor would have agreed with me that it was useless to argue with
a woman so terribly excited as Sally was. There she stood, barefooted
on the stone floor, in the light circle that the candle made, waving
her arms and casting shadows of awful length and shape. The black
jagged ends of the rafters of the broken flooring over her head framed
her in spikes, as they sagged and drooped towards the middle of the
room where she was. Nice home-coming for a man after all those years!…
I wished, then--how I wished!--I had stayed in Wyoming with my
faithful Roger, and only seen Sally as I remembered her, plucky,
resolute and sensible, instead of the all-to-pieces madwoman remorse
had made of her.
But she was determined to go through with the mad farce. She stooped,
tossed back her hair and fixed Roger with her eyes. He met them as
dogs do without flinching or turning away. Poor dear old Roger was so
faithful and so old, I did wish she would leave him alone. But no--
“Roger,” she said solemnly, “did Dysart’s dog warn you of the state of
things here, and of what might happen to you?”
A lot of little orderly barks answered her. Though Roger always did
bark when you spoke to him in a certain domineering tone, it was
fairly horrible.
Sally turned to me, and her voice was lifted with pride.
“He says yes, that he is fully informed. Moreover, Dysart’s dog has
told him that his master has had suspicions of you ever since a
certain tramp woman he met on the Witton-Gilbert road was so keen on
finding her way to you. William Dysart told her she would probably
find you in bed with me, blast and curse him! I am glad I burnt five
of his ricks!”
“Come, come, Sally, does my dog really say all that?” I mocked her.
“He says that and a lot more. That Dysart went straight to the police
this morning after seeing you and your dog walk across the
market-place--now, then!”
“Damn it all, that’s where Roger picked up the cur first,” I called
out, for I own this struck me. And the dog’s manner was disquieting.
All this was exciting and very bad for him. He shivered and whined
very low.
“Roger, Roger, old man!” I caressed him and talked to him as if he was
human and sensible, as indeed he was, but only as dogs--the best of
them--are. “Don’t take on so! What is it? What’s the matter?”
“He’ll tell you fast enough,” Sally said, grinning. She went up to
him, too, and passed her hands over his back. “Come, tell us all about
it, good dog.”
I couldn’t bear to see her lay her Judas hand on him. I shouted,
“Don’t you touch my dog, you----” I couldn’t find a word bad enough
for her--not even one of the worst; all my love for her had gone,
melted away.
“All right!” she answered carelessly, desisting.
So we both stood at an equal distance from Roger, who barked
incessantly for about five minutes. I thought I noticed gaps between
the groups of barks, as it were, but even now I cannot be quite sure.
Sally had got me into the same state as the dog, we were both beside
ourselves--fairly bewitched, I think.
Now Sally translated, in a level voice. Her quiet was more awful than
her bluster.
“He says, ‘Master, save me from the torture. I am old, I have not many
months to live. Shoot me first. I may not be able to stop myself from
betraying you--and her. Shoot me, in mercy! Shoot me!’”
“Is that so, Roger?” I asked him. The spell wrought on me so that I
began to believe it. “Do you want me to kill you?”
He barked--yes, he barked horribly.
Then I turned on Sally, and she held up her head and looked me with
insolence in the face, and the dog began to plunge and strain on the
cord, barking furiously all the time.
“You devil,” I yelled, “you are taking me in! This is all a plan got
up to make me put away my faithful old dog!”
“Look at your dog!” she said, calmly. “He has more sense than you. Do
you know what he is trying to do? He’s trying to commit suicide--he
says it’s his only chance, if you won’t shoot him. You coward! Afraid
to put him out of his misery and help him to get out of the way before
he’s forced to betray you! Go and get your gun! Kill him, man--or let
me.”
I came out of my maze just in time. I saw Sally whip the knife out
from under her and go for Roger with it. The dog had nearly succeeded
in strangling himself--he had come to make gurgling noises in his
throat.… But I was all there, now.…
“Don’t you do it, old dog!” I up and shouted. “I’ll settle her, as she
settled Mary!”
* * * * * * *
And that is why I am sitting here in Durham gaol waiting to be hanged,
and a good riddance too. I don’t care to live.… Poor Roger did manage
to commit suicide. He knew.