“This is gruesome,” said Gissing, pretending to be shocked. “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do.”
He picked them up carefully and carried them home.
“Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.”
He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held it carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at first he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. “If they did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of trouble.”
Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy footprints on the clean sheet.
“Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have to pour it down?”
In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. It was he who
