"Look," she said, "he's jealous. Poor Ponto!"
And she kneeled beside me, put her arm around my neck and pressed my head affectionately.
"There!" she said briskly. "You're a good dog. You're my Ponto and I'll take care of you."
"Stop driveling over that damn dog," he said, "and come on into the house."
Germaine gave me a farewell pat on the head.
"He's such a good dog," she announced, "and now that he's been properly married he'll settle down, I hope. I've been quite worried over the way he's been acting. But it's all right now, Ponto, isn't it? Was your girl-friend nice, old boy? Huh? Are you happy?"
I tried to explain things but all that came to my lips was a series of whines and growls.
"Come along, Jimmie," Tompkins insisted. "I'm cold. Damn it all! I've had a shock and all you can think of doing is to slobber over a dog. Let him have a run."
So she got off her knees and followed him obediently into the house.
I sat for a moment, pondering my predicament.
This was Fate. Three seconds would have made all the difference but here I was, a dog. Conditions were reversed and I might as well be philosophical about it. Winnie never dreamed that conditions were not as they had been before the second of April, just as though Frank Jacklin had never existed. The chances were that he would continue to believe that it was all a dream, an hallucination. As for the F.B.I. and Von Bieberstein, putting first things first, that was no longer any of my business. Dogs were not expected to develop patriotism: that luxury was reserved for human beings. All I could do now was to wait my chance. Perhaps the time would come when I could repossess Winnie Tompkins' body. Then, by George! I would not waste one minute but would have him chloroformed at once. In the meantime, my cue was to be a good dog.
There was a shrill whistle from the house.
"Ponto!" Winnie's voice called. "Come here, Ponto. That's a good dog! Come on, Ponto! That's a good dog!"
I ran, wagging my tail, to the open door and on all fours entered the house I had left only two hours before as its proud master.
I was lying down in the kitchen, near the stove, on an old rug which Mary-Myrtle had spread for me. She was really a nice girl. My educated nose informed me that she was kind, young and affectionate. When she entered the room I used to rear up and place my forepaws on her shoulders and lick her ears. She liked me. She used to put her arms around my neck and press against me and give me a smack on the back and a "Go on with you, can't you see I'm busy?"