“Nothing else, miss, thank you very much,” said the sergeant genially, stuffing his papers back into his pocket. “I must be getting back to Lewes now. And I shouldn’t worry too much about your dog. Between ourselves I don’t expect you will hear any more of this affair. Good morning.”

He paused in the doorway. “Perhaps I can post your letter for you in Lewes?” he added.

“Oh, no, thanks. You needn’t bother,” Susan replied. “I’ve just thought of something I wanted to add to it, as a matter of fact.”

The sergeant gave an understanding smile.

“I see,” he said. “Good-bye, then, miss. And good-bye, Gandhi.”

General Jenkinson, who had elected to leave the stables just half a minute too soon, encountered the sergeant as he was mounting his bicycle in the drive. He would have passed indoors without noticing him, but he felt that his dignity demanded that he should return the man’s salute. As he did so, he looked at him curiously.

“I haven’t seen your face before,” he said. “You’re not a local man, are you?”

“No, sir. I’m temporarily attached to this division.”

“H’m,” said the general. Then, almost automatically, he found himself exclaiming: “Mind you, I take no responsibility for this dog—no responsibility at all.”

“Quite so, sir,” said the sergeant soothingly. “The young lady took full responsibility herself in the matter. But in any case,” he went on, “I don’t think there is any reason for suspecting the animal. It seems quite clear that he is not the one we’re after. I’m only sorry you should have been troubled in the matter.”

“No trouble at all,” the general assured him, “I’m always only too glad to assist the police in any way. It’s part of one’s duty as a citizen, in these days especially.” He swelled visibly with pride at the assistance he had rendered. “And mind you,” he went on, “I shouldn’t have been at all sorry if it had turned out to be the dog you wanted. It’s a ridiculous dog, and she’s given it a ridiculous name. I don’t care to have it about the house, I can tell you, sergeant. No pedigree, no manners, and then to hear that name always being shouted about the place—the name of the biggest enemy our Indian Empire has got—it’s monstrous!” He paused, and then added: “It isn’t even as if it looked like the blighter at all.” The circumstance seemed for some reason to add the final drop to his cup of bitterness. He went on: “Of course, she’s very fond of the dog, and all that, and I wouldn’t see her unhappy if it could be helped, but all the same, I shouldn’t be sorry to see the last of it—sheep-killing or no sheep-killing.”