I'm afraid he
has taken it to heart rather.'
Roscoe Sherriff pondered.
'Is this worth half a column?' He shook his head. 'No, I'm afraid
not. The public doesn't know Pickering. If it had been Charlie
Chaplin or William J. Bryan, or someone on those lines, we could
have had the papers bringing out extras. You can visualize William
J. Bryan being bitten in the leg by a monkey. It hits you. But
Pickering! Eustace might just as well have bitten the leg of the
table!'
Lord Wetherby reasserted himself.
'Now that the animal has become a public menace--'
'He's nothing of the kind,' said Lady Wetherby. 'He's only a
little upset to-day.'
'Do you mean, Pauline, that even after this you will not get rid
of him?'
'Certainly not--poor dear!'
'Very well,' said Lord Wetherby, calmly. 'I give you warning that
if he attacks me I shall defend myself.'
He brooded. Lady Wetherby turned to Claire.
'What happened then? Did you shut the door of the garage?'
'Yes, but not until Eustace had got away. He slipped out like a
streak and disappeared. It was too dark to see which way he went.'
Dudley Pickering limped heavily into the room.
'I was just telling them about you and Eustace, Dudley.'
Mr Pickering nodded moodily. He was too full for words.
'I think Eustace must be mad,' said Claire.
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