I couldn't flatter myself that I was loved! I had
the idea I wasn't what he wanted--that he'd like to tell me what he
_did_ want, and politely bid me good-bye forever."
"You don't know where Von Busche got hold of the dog, do you?" Brian
asked.
"Only what his orderly told people, that it was in Flanders, close to
some ruined, burnt-up chateau that he could hardly be forced to leave,
though he was starving."
"I thought he'd get back there!" Brian said. "As for Von Busche--I
wonder--but no! If it had been he the first time, would the dog have
waited all those weeks for his revenge?"
"I don't understand," said the war correspondent.
"I don't myself," answered Brian. "But maybe the dog will manage to make
me, some day. I was thinking--how I found him, tied to a table in a
burning room. If Von Busche---- But anyhow, Sirius, you're no assassin!
At worst, you're an avenger."
The dog leaped upon Brian at sound of the remembered name. Odd that
three of his names, chosen by different men, should begin with "S"!
He's going to be an exciting passenger for the Becketts' car I foresee.
But Brian can make him do anything, even to keeping quiet. And the trip
can't go on a step without him now!
I felt that Jack Curtis had been hoping for a chance to speak with me
alone--about Jim. But there was no such chance then. We were met by two
of the British correspondents, and a French officer with a very high and
ancient title, who was playing host (for France) to the newspaper men in
this old chateau, once a convent.
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