Meanwhile, Pongo had his own worries. He had been telling the Staffordshire all about Cruella and had remembered what she had said that night at Hell Hall how she intended to wait until people had forgotten about the stolen puppies, and then start her Dalmatian fur farm again. Surely he and Missis would get this lot of puppies safely home (it had never occurred to him that the Dearlys might not let them in), but what of the future? How could he make sure that other puppies did not end up as fur coats later on? He asked for advice.

Why not kill this Cruella?€ said the Staffordshire. And I’ll help you. Let’s make a date for it now.€

Pongo shook his head. He had come to believe that Cruella was not an ordinary human but some kind of devil. If so, could one kill her? In any case, he didn’t want his pups to have a killer-dog for a father. He would have sprung at Cruella if she had attacked any pup, but he didn’t fancy cold-blooded murder. He told the Staffordshire so.

Your blood would soon warm up, once you started the job,€ said the Staffordshire. Well, let me know if you change your mind. And now you take a nap, mate. You’ve still got quite a job ahead of you.€

The Staffordshire, like Missis, wondered if the Dearlys would recognize these black Dalmatians and if even the kindest pets would take in so many pups. But he said nothing of this to Pongo.

Missis, lulled by the movement of the van, had fallen asleep. Soon Pongo slept too. But their dreams were haunted by their separate anxieties.

On and on through the dark went the mile-eating miracle.

The White Cat’s Revenge

THE Staffordshire woke them in good time every pup must be ready to leap out of the van the minute the tailboard was put down.

Not that my dear pets would hurt you if they saw you,€ said the Staffordshire. But it might cause delay. The van will stop in a big, dark garage. Streak out, turn sharp left, and you will be in a dimly lit mews and on your way. We’ll say good-bye now.€

Can we send you news on the Twilight Barking?€ asked Pongo.

Hardly ever get the chance to listen to it,€ said the Staf fordshire. But I shall get news of you all right. I’m a great one for newspapers they pass the time on the road. Always plenty of them in the van; we use them for packing. Well, here we are.

The van stopped. The Staffordshire started to bark loudly.

Let him out, Jim,€ said Bill. Before he breaks the Sound Barrier.

Down came the tailboard. Out shot the Staffordshire. This time he managed to knock Jim right down, before turning to Bill, whom he tackled low.

Just about winded me, he has,€ said Bill proudly. Grrh, you Flying Saucer, you!