Ere we retired to rest, my brother-in-law's prophecy that there was 'worse to come' was distressingly fulfilled.

As the 'evening' advanced, it improved out of all knowledge. The later the hour, the hotter became the fun. Berry's ill humour fell away.

Adele and I danced furiously together. Vain things were imagined and found diverting. Hospitality was dispensed. The two spare 'baubles'

were reinforced....

Not until half-past two was the tambourine of gaiety suffered to tumble in its tracks.

We climbed into the cars flushed and hilarious....

Late though we were, whenever we had been dancing there was one member of the household who always looked for our return and met us upon our threshold.

n.o.bby.

However silently the cars stole up the drive, by the time the door was opened, always the Sealyham was on parade, his small feet together, his tail up, his rough little head upon one side, waiting to greet us with an explosion of delight. In his bright eyes the rite was never stale, never laborious. It was the way of his heart.

Naturally enough, we came to look for his welcome. Had we looked in vain some night, we should have been concerned....

We were concerned this night.

We opened the door to find the hall empty.

n.o.bby was not upon parade.

Tired as we were, we searched the whole house. Presently I found a note upon my pyjamas.

_SIR,_

_Must tell you we cannot find n.o.bby, the chauffeur and me looking everywhere and Fitch as been out in Pau all evening in quest. Hoping his whereabouts is perhaps known to you,_

_Yours respectfully, J. FALCON._

I was at the Villa Buichi the following morning by a quarter to ten.

It seemed just possible that the terrier was there a captive. That he was with us before we visited the house we well remembered. Whether he had entered with us and, if so, left when we did, we could not be sure.

We had had much to think about....

The caretaker took an unconscionable time to answer the bell, and when I had stated my business, stoutly refused to let me search the villa without an order. My offer of money was offensively refused. I had to content myself with standing within the hall and whistling as loud as I could. No bark replied, but I was not satisfied, and determined to seek the agent and obtain a permit, the moment that Susan and I had 'done' the Chateau.

It was in some irritation that I made my way to the Boulevard. I had no desire to see the inside of the Chateau then or at any time; I particularly wished to prosecute my search for the Sealyham without delay. I had had less than four hours' sleep, and was feeling rotten.

In a smart white coat and skirt and a white felt hat over one eye, Susan looked most attractive. Her fresh, pretty face was glowing, her wonderful golden hair was full of lights, and the line of her slim figure, as--hands thrust deep into her coat-pockets--she leaned her small back against the bal.u.s.trade, was more than dainty. Her little feet and ankles were those of a thoroughbred.

As I descended from the car--

"I say," said Susan, "I've got a stone in my shoe. Where can I get it out?"

I eyed her severely.

"You will have a lot to tell them," I said, "won't you? Go on. Get into the car."

She climbed in, sat down and leaned back luxuriously. Then she thrust out a foot with the air of a queen....

When I had replaced her shoe, she thanked me with a shy smile. Then--

"I say," she said suddenly, "don't let's go to the Chateau. I don't want to see the rotten place. Let's go for a drive instead--somewhere where you can let her out. And on the way back you can take me to get some gloves."

"Susan," said I, "there's nothing doing. I know a drive in a high-powered car sounds a good deal more _chic_ than being shown round a Chateau, but you can't have everything. Orders is orders. Besides, I've lost my dog, and I want to get a move on. But for that, you should have done the Chateau and had your drive into the bargain. As it is...."

Susan is a good girl.

The moment she heard of my trouble, she was out of the car and haling me up to the Chateau as if there was a mob at our heels....

I was not in the mood for sightseeing, but my annoyance went down before the tapestries as wheat before the storm.

Standing before those aged exquisites--those glorious embodiments of patience infinite, imagination high, and matchless craftsmanship, I forgot everything. The style of them was superb. They had quality.

About them was nothing mean. They were so rich, so mellow, so delicate. There was a softness to the lovely tones no brush could ever compa.s.s. Miracles of detail, marvels of stately effect, the panels were breathing the spirit of their age. Looking upon them, I stepped into another world. I heard the shouts of the huntsmen and the laughter of the handmaidens, I smelled the sweat of the chargers and the sweet scent of the grapes, I felt the cool touch of the shade upon my cheeks. Always the shouts were distant, the scent faint, the laughter low. I wandered up faery glades, loitered in lazy markets, listened to the music of fountains, sat before ample boards, bowed over lily-white hands....

Here, then, was magic. Things other than silk went to the weaving of so potent a spell. The laborious needle put in the dainty threads: the hearts of those that plied it put in most precious memories--treasures of love and laughter ... the swift brush of lips ... the echo of a call in the forest ... a patch of sunlight upon the slope of a hill ... such stuff, indeed, as dreams are made on....

And there is the bare truth, gentlemen, just as I have stumbled upon it. The tapestries of Pau are dreams--which you may go and share any day except Sundays.

We had almost finished our tour of the apartments, and were standing in the Bedroom of Jeanne d'Albret, staring at a beautiful Gobelin, when I heard the "flop" of something alighting upon the floor.

With one consent, the keeper, Susan, and I swung on our heels.

Advancing stiffly towards us and wagging his sc.r.a.p of a tail was a small grey-brown dog. His coat was plastered with filth, upon one of his ears was a blotch of dried blood, his muzzle and paws might have been steeped in liquid soot. He stank abominably.

I put up a hand to my head.

"n.o.bby?" I cried, peering. And then again, "_n.o.bby?_"

The urchin crept to my feet, put his small dirty head on one side, lowered it to the ground, and then rolled over upon his back. With his legs in the air, he regarded me fixedly, tentatively wagging his tail.

Dazedly I stooped and patted the mud upon his stomach....

The bright eyes flashed. Then, with a squirm, the Sealyham was on his feet and leaping to lick my face.

"B-b-but," shrieked Susan, shaking me by the arm, "is this the--the dog you'd lost?"

"Yes," I shouted, "it is!"

Not until then did the custodian of the apartments find his tongue.

"It is your dog, then!" he raved. "He has marched with us all the time, and I have not seen him. Without an attachment in all these n.o.ble rooms! _Mon Dieu!_ dogs may not enter even the grounds, but he must junket in the Chateau, all vile as he is and smelling like twenty goats."

"Listen," said I. "It's my dog all right, but I never brought him.

I've been looking all over Pau. What on earth----"