Since that
time, however, your own relations with him, to an onlooker, have
become a little puzzling."
"I see," Francis murmured. "You've been spying on me?"
Shopland shook his head in deprecating fashion.
"A study of Sir Timothy during the last month," he said, "has
brought you many a time into the focus."
"Where are we going to now?" Francis asked, a little abruptly.
"Just a side show, sir. It's one of those outside things I have
come across which give light and shade to the whole affair. We
get out here, if you please."
The two men stepped on to the pavement. They were in a street a
little north of Wardour Street, where the shops for the most part
were of a miscellaneous variety. Exactly in front of them, the
space behind a large plate-glass window had been transformed into
a sort of show-place for dogs. There were twenty or thirty of
them there, of all breeds and varieties.
"What the mischief is this?" Francis demanded.
"Come in and make enquiries," Shopland replied. "I can promise
that you will find it interesting. It's a sort of dog's home."
Francis followed his companion into the place. A pleasant-looking,
middle-aged woman came forward and greeted the latter.
"Do you mind telling my friend what you told me the other day?"
he asked.
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