Miss Crump shook her tight curls. “It is possible. But I believe they will rely on guile rather than violence. It is against that we must be on our guard. You are the only people who have come to the door since that telephone call. Now anyone else that comes to your apartment or mine, whatever their excuse . . .” She lowered her voice. “Anyone may be Henry Blodgett or his wife and we will have to outwit them.”

A fly settled on one of Poppy’s valuable ears. She did not seem to notice it. Miss Crump watched us earnestly and then gave a self-scolding cluck.

“Dear me, here I have been burdening you with Poppy’s problems and you must be hungry. How about a little salad for luncheon? I always feel guilty about eating in the middle of the day when Poppy has her one meal at night. But with guests—yes, and allies—I am sure Mrs. Wilberframe would not have grudged the expense.”

With a smile that was half-shy, half-conspiratorial, she fluttered away.

I looked at Iris. “Well,” I said, “is she a nut or do we believe her?”

“I rather think,” said my wife, “that we believe her.”

“Why?”

“Just because.” Iris’s face wore the entranced expression which had won her so many fans in her last picture. “Oh, Peter, don’t you see what fun it will be? A beautiful St. Bernard in peril. A wicked villain with golden curls who bit his aunt.”

“He won’t have golden curls any more,” I said. “He’s a big boy now.”

Iris, her body warm from the sun, leaned over me and put both arms around Poppy’s massive neck.

“Poor Poppy,” she said. “Really, this shouldn’t happen to a dog!”

The first thing happened some hours after Miss Crump’s little salad luncheon while Iris and I were still sunning ourselves. Miss Crump, who had been preparing Poppy’s dinner and her own in her apartment, came running to announce:

“There is a man at the door! He claims he is from the electric light company to read the meter. Oh, dear, if he is legitimate and we do not let him in, there will be trouble with the electric light company and if . . .” She wrung her hands. “Oh, what shall we do?”

I reached for a bathrobe. “You and Iris stay here. And for Mrs. Wilberframe’s sake, hang on to Poppy.”