Together

He sat there, holding the letter and looking absently over it at the
little dog who had gone to sleep again. There was no sound in the room
save the faint whisper of the tea-kettle. The sunny garden outside was
very still, too; the blackbird appeared to doze on his peach twig; the
kitten had settled down with eyes half closed and tail tucked under
flank.

The young man sat there with his letter in his hand and eyes lost in
retrospection for a while.

In his hand lay evidence that the gang which had followed him, and
through which he no longer doubted that he had been robbed, was now in
Paris.

And yet he could not give this information to the Princess Naïa. Here
was a letter which he could not show. Something within him forbade it,
some instinct which he did not trouble to analyse.

And this instinct sent the letter into his breast pocket as a light
sound came to his ears; and the next instant Rue Carew entered the
further drawing-room.

The little West Highland terrier looked up, wagged that section of him
which did duty as a tail, and watched her as Neeland rose to seat her
at the tea-table.

"Sandy," she said to the little dog, "if you care to say 'Down with
the Sultan,' I shall bestow one lump of sugar upon you."

"Yap-yap!" said the little dog.

"Give it to him, please----" Rue handed the sugar to Neeland, who
delivered it gravely.

"That's because I want Sandy to like you," she added.