“What a question!” said Sirius. “You know Earth’s a masterpiece.”
He could feel Sol beaming on his back, as pleased as Earth had been the day before. “Mars isn’t bad,” Sol said, defensively.
Sirius laughed. He was so taken up with his amusement that he did not notice a police car gliding to the curb beside him. Its doors opened and policemen leaped out.
“Run!” woofed Bruce, and was off up the pavement like the wild hunt.
Sirius was taken by surprise. He started after Bruce, and was brought up short by a policeman’s hand in his collar. He ducked and wriggled and almost slipped out of the collar. The policeman seized him by the scruff of his neck instead.
“Come on, my lad. In that car.”
Sirius struggled, but the policeman won. Sirius was bundled onto a sort of leather plowed field, which seemed to be the back seat of the car, while, at the end of the street, the other two policemen gave up chasing Bruce and came panting back.
“There were two!” one of them puffed. “I couldn’t believe it when those descriptions came in. Which one have we got?”
The policeman holding Sirius looked at the disk on his collar. “I thought so! My old friend Leo! Cheer up, Leo. You’re a hero today. Makes a change from last time.”
13
Feeling rather sick from the swift, swirling ride, Sirius was delivered at the Duffields’ house. Kathleen ran at him and hugged him. “Oh, Leo!” Robin pounced on him from the other side. “Shamus, you are brave!” Basil tweaked his tail. “You silly old Rat! What did you get lost for?” Even Mr. Duffield patted his head and called him a good horse. Duffie sniffed. “Sentimental idiots! What are dogs for, if not to keep off burglars?”
Sirius discovered, to his acute embarrassment, that he was supposed to have saved the house from burglars. The burglars were supposed to have been armed. New-Sirius had not been careful. Perhaps he could not be. Sirius knew that it was not easy for a high effulgent to use force without heat. At any rate, all the Duffields had seen the yard full of vivid green flashes as he struck at Sirius. Some of them had burned grooves in the gate. Indoors, the broken chair had been smoldering. And there was the queer wound on Tibbles.
Tibbles was sitting in a basket lined with a blanket, and the electric heater was on specially for her. Sirius ran to her delightedly. Tibbles put a rather shaky nose up to greet him. She looked ill. “Hallo,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were, too. What happened?”
“I think I would have been dead if you hadn’t shouted at me,” Tibbles said. “I was in the middle of jumping down off the sofa when he hit me, and the sofa got most of it.”
Sirius looked at the sofa. There were large lumps out of its back, from which greenish fluff and horsehair were oozing. He looked at Tibbles’s back. There was a raw, slanting weal on her. The fur around it was singed green. “Shall I lick it better?” he asked.
“It hurts when it’s touched,” she said. “It’s a wrong kind of hurt. I don’t think those were real people.”
“They weren’t,” he said. “That’s why I may be able to lick it better for you.”
“Try,” she said.
Sirius waited for a moment, while he tried to draw on any virtue there might be left in his green nature. He was not sure he had any. But he knew he now had as much of his green nature as could be crammed into a dog, and he was sure that only that could heal Tibbles. Then he bent and licked the weal.
Kathleen hurried to stop him. “No, Leo. Leave!”
“Let him,” said Mr. Duffield. “Animals know what they’re doing.”
“Romulus and Remus wouldn’t touch it, though,” Basil objected.
Tibbles winced at the first lick, but, after the third, she began to purr. “Oh that’s better! It’s gone cool. Go on.”
Duffie threw herself on the battered sofa and announced that she was worn out. “I suppose we’d better have breakfast,” she said. Kathleen, who looked quite as tired, hurried away to the kitchen. It seemed that the whole family had been up ever since Sirius woke them by barking. They had spent the rest of the night explaining things to the police, describing their dog, trying to describe two burglars no one had clearly seen, hunting around the house to see what had been stolen, wondering about the peculiar damage and nursing Tibbles.
When Kathleen had breakfast ready, Mr. Duffield switched the radio on for the early news and remarked that the horse should have some cornflakes, too, as a reward. So Kathleen put down a snickering golden plateful. Sirius loved cornflakes. He left Tibbles purring sleepily, with her back the proper color again, and attacked the plateful in sloshy gollops. Through the noise he was making, he suddenly gathered that something strange had happened. The whole family was leaning toward the radio, looking tense and surprised.
“Isn’t that the prison where your father is?” Robin said.
“I think one of them’s him,” Kathleen answered in a queer, subdued voice. Sirius could not tell if she was very sad or very happy. He did his best to follow for once the flat monotonous voice from the radio.
“Two of the escaped men,” he heard, “were recaptured by the army in the early hours of this morning. O’Brien, the third man, is still at large.” The radio went on to talk of other things, leaving Kathleen looking so excited, joyful, and frightened that Sirius wished he had heard more. He went pensively back to his cornflakes, remembering that letter Kathleen’s father had sent her a month before. Perhaps Kathleen’s father had not meant he was going to be released. Perhaps the letter was so crumpled and dirty because it had been smuggled out to warn Kathleen he was going to escape. He could see Kathleen thought so.
She was not the only one. As soon as Mr. Duffield had gone upstairs to shave, Duffie rounded on Kathleen. “I warn you, Kathleen, I don’t intend to help that father of yours to break the law. I never wanted to get mixed up with convicts. I told Harry I wasn’t having you. I knew how it would be. And I was right. If that man tries to come here, I shall have him back in jail again before he can say knife. You can tell him I said so.”
It was doubtful if Kathleen heard her. She was in a daze of happiness and anxiety. “I know it’s my daddy they haven’t caught!” she whispered as she was tying Sirius up in the yard as usual. “I do hope he gets away. He’s awfully clever, so maybe he will.”
Sirius sat half inside his shelter and pondered about it. He decided he was glad. Kathleen’s father could not have escaped at a better time. That night, Sirius himself would have to leave. Whether he found the Zoi or not, he would not dare to go on living here now. But, now he came to think about it, he was sad and uneasy at the thought of leaving Kathleen alone. It was not kind. So it made a great deal of difference that her father had escaped. He could look after Kathleen in the future. Sirius was quite aware that Ireland was some way away, over some water, and that the police did not allow people to remain escaped from prison. But he comforted his slightly uneasy conscience by telling himself that Kathleen had said her father was very clever. No doubt he would manage to come and fetch Kathleen somehow. Then Kathleen would be happy again.
“Don’t think you’re going to jump that gate again while I’m here!” Duffie said, stumping out into the yard to make sure Sirius was there. Lack of sleep had made her restless, and more than usually bad-tempered. She stumped into the yard six times that morning.
Each time, Sirius gave her that sarcastic look from under one eyebrow. He knew it annoyed her. He had no intention of leaving yet. The time to go was when everyone would least expect it, just before Kathleen was due home from school. But it was a pity, Sirius thought, settling down to sleep, that he would not be able to say good-by to Kathleen properly.
About midday, Sol flicked a beam of light over his muzzle and woke him up. “Were you intending to go somewhere else tonight?” Sol asked.
Sirius opened one eye. “Yes. To find the Zoi if possible.”
“Then I’d better warn you,” said Sol, “that you may want to
change your mind. I wish I knew how to advise you. Things are going to be very difficult now.”
“What are you talking about?” said Sirius, opening both eyes.
Sol did not answer. He simply spilled a bright golden wedge of light on the back door. Kathleen came out into it. Sirius sprang to his feet in amazement. He had never known Kathleen to come home at this hour before. His tail wagged madly. He was delighted. Now he could say good-by as he should.
Kathleen crossed the yard in an odd blundering way, as if she could not see where she was going very well. A strange lady came out after her and watched Kathleen anxiously. She seemed worried about her. Sirius saw Kathleen’s face was a yellowish white, almost the color of his coat. Something was the matter with her. Kathleen put out her hands in a vague fumbling way to untie the rope, and Sirius stood on his hind legs with his paws on her arm and tried to see what was wrong.
Kathleen said, in a peculiar, flat voice, “This is Leo, Miss Markles. I told you he would look after me.”
“He looks a beautiful dog, dear,” Miss Markles said. Sirius knew she was nervous of him and kindly trying to hide it from Kathleen. “Why don’t you bring him indoors with you, dear?”
She led the way back through the kitchen. Kathleen followed, keeping her hand tight on Sirius’s collar, and sat listlessly down on the battered sofa. Very puzzled and worried, Sirius hopped up beside her and sat watching her pale, stiff face.
“Now, dear,” said Miss Markles, still trying hard to be kind, “can I get you a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” Kathleen said flatly. “I’m quite all right. I’ve got Leo.”
“Well, in that case—” Miss Markles said, dubiously hovering. She seemed to give Kathleen up. It was an obvious relief to her. “Then if you think you’ll be all right with Leo, dear, I’d better go and have a word with Mrs. Duffield.”
Kathleen did not answer. Miss Markles, giving her a nervous look, went and tapped timidly on the door to the shop. Nobody answered the tap, but she nevertheless opened the door, tiptoed through, and closed it again so softly that Sirius hardly heard the latch click.
“She’s the school secretary,” Kathleen explained to him, in that odd, dull voice, staring stiffly in front of her. “She’s doing her best to be kind, but I don’t think she’s had much practice. They’ve all been like that, ever since—” She put out an arm and clutched Sirius against her. After three minutes, Sirius had to wriggle. His back was twisted. He nosed her face apologetically and squirmed into a more comfortable position. Kathleen leaned her head on him. “Oh, Leo,” she said. “My daddy’s dead. The police got Uncle Harry out of work and they came round to school. The other side found him before the army did. They shot him dead this morning. And, Leo, the worst of it is, I can’t remember what my daddy looked like properly—not after all this time. I keep trying to remember, and it gets in the way of being sad.”
Sirius nosed her again, truly sorry. He saw what Sol had meant. He had no idea what to do now.
“I’d no idea what a muddle being sad is,” Kathleen said. She sounded much more like her usual self, saying it. Sirius was glad. “I almost keep forgetting my daddy’s dead. And then I wonder if it hurt, and hope it didn’t, and I hope he wasn’t horribly frightened. Then, in the middle, I remember how annoying he could be sometimes. He was quite like Uncle Harry. If he didn’t like something, he didn’t want to know about it. But he was funny and kind, too. And I know all that, but I can’t remember what he looked like.” Still hugging Sirius, she went back to staring straight ahead again. He wondered if he should nose her. Or not. He did not know what to do.
The door to the shop burst open. Duffie trampled in, high and cold and furious.
“What on earth does that woman mean, bringing you back here in the middle of the day?” she demanded. “I pay a small fortune for you to have school lunches. Am I supposed to pay for it twice today, or what?”
“It’s all right,” Kathleen said, still staring at nothing, “I’m not hungry.”
But Duffie had only said that to warm herself up for her real diatribe. “Then starve if you’d rather,” she said. “I know by now you do everything just to annoy me. You don’t care! Look at you, sitting there with that great useless dog messing up the sofa, with not an ounce of consideration for me! And, to crown it all, that woman tells me to comfort you! Let me tell you, Kathleen, it should be the other way round. I’ve put up with you for nearly a year, and you’ve been nothing but trouble and expense the whole time. I only agreed to have you on the understanding that you’d go back to that father of yours as soon as he came out of jail. Now look what happens! He gets himself shot, and I have to put up with you for the rest of your life! Harry’ll be trying to make me adopt you next. Well, that’s one thing I won’t do. I told that woman to her face I wouldn’t. The wretched child can go to a Home, I told her. As for the father, he only got exactly what he deserved!”
“He didn’t deserve to be shot,” Kathleen said drearily. “Nobody does—even you.”
“I’m not going to stand here and be insulted!” said Duffie. “Since they thought fit to send you home at this unreasonable hour, you can make yourself useful for once. Go and turn out Robin’s room. It’s a pigsty. You’ve not touched it for weeks.”
“No,” said Kathleen, without interest. “Do it yourself if you want it done.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me!” Duffie said. It did not seem to occur to her that a great calamity had just fallen on Kathleen, nor that even Kathleen could be pushed too far. “I’ve taken you in. I’ve lavished kindness on you. Do as I tell you.”
Kathleen stood up. Sirius could feel her trembling. “No,” she said. “You’ve never been kind to me, not for a minute. Why should I do your dirty work?”
Duffie stared at her, coldly outraged. Kathleen was standing so still, apart from the trembling, and she spoke in such a dead, calm voice, that Duffie still did not see she had gone too far. She said, “I’ve had about enough of you, Kathleen!”
Kathleen said quietly, “And I’ve had about enough of you.” Very slowly and deliberately, though she was still shaking, she walked to the broom cupboard and took out a broom. Sirius ran anxiously after her along the sofa, wondering what she was going to do.
“Take that broom upstairs and get to work,” said Duffie. “I’m going to get myself some lunch.” She aimed a slap at Sirius as she tramped off to the kitchen. “Get down, you filthy creature!”
The slap did not hurt much, but two pink places appeared on Kathleen’s face, under her eyes, making her eyes look dark as the night sky. She looked as if she had come alive again. “Don’t you hit Leo!” she shouted at Duffie’s back. “I’ll show you!” And she dashed into the shop waving the broom.
“What’s she doing?” Tibbles asked anxiously from her basket.
A great crashing of pots was the answer. Sirius arrived in time to see Kathleen put the broom to the second shelf of pottery and sweep sideways. Pots rained down, pots by tens, twenties and thirties, smashing, crashing, smashing. Bits flew across the floor. Dust rose. Sirius jumped, wincing, among them and tried to nose Kathleen to bring her to her senses.
Kathleen’s broom swept along another shelf, and another. Her hair was wild and her face bright red. “Hurray!” she shouted, above the crashing. “I’ve always wanted to do this!” With Sirius still dancing uneasily about her, she jumped on a pile of pieces. Sharp bits flew. She raised the broom and brought it down on a stack of pots by the sales-room door. Smash! Parangrash! Crunch! She jumped on them. By this time, there was not a whole pot in the workroom. Kathleen whirled her broom and rushed toward the shop itself.
Duffie pounded in and caught her in its doorway. There was a brief, fierce struggle. Then Duffie was hitting Kathleen with the broom, with both bulging calves braced to hold her, and Kathleen was screaming. Sirius did not think. As soon as Kathleen screamed, his teeth went into Duffie’s left calf, almost of their own accord. He brought his jaws together vehemently. br />
Duffie yelled. She tasted horrible. Sirius let go, disgusted, and leaped away, not quite in time. The broom caught him across the head, and he yelped. He dodged. Duffie hopped furiously about after him, crushing shards of pot under her right sandal, aiming swipes at him with the broom and raving.
“That does it! That’s final! The filthy brute! I shall die of blood poisoning!”
“You’ve probably poisoned him,” Kathleen said.
Duffie leaned on the broom like a crutch and tried to see her leg. “I’m bleeding like a pig!”
“No you’re not,” Kathleen said scornfully. “It’s only a trickle. He could have bitten a piece out if he’d wanted.”
“He’s not going to have the chance again!” raved Duffie. “As soon as I’ve got some plaster on, he’s going down to the vet’s. And as for you, you’re going to pay for every single pot!”
“All right,” said Kathleen. “But you’re not taking Leo to be put down.”
“Oh, yes I am!” said Duffie. “This very afternoon. We’re none of us safe from the brute!”
Kathleen turned away and walked over the scattered pottery to the door. “Come on, Leo. Mind your feet.” Sirius picked his way after her, trembling. He could tell Duffie meant what she said. He hoped Kathleen would put him in the yard, so that he would have a chance to escape.
“Where are you going?” Duffie screeched, hobbling after them.
“I’m taking him down to the vet myself,” said Kathleen. “You’re not doing it.” She went to the broom closet and fetched the leash. “Here, Leo.”
Sirius stood in the middle of the living room, appalled. He supposed Kathleen had little choice, but he still could not believe she could do it. Kathleen called to him sharply. He did not go to her. Kathleen went to him and grabbed his collar, unusually roughly, while she wrestled to get the leash clipped on. Sirius only let her do it in the end because he knew he could slip out of the collar.