his passage, he went to his hotel to prepare the letter to his mother.
It is marvellous what trivial events alter destinies. In this instance it was the yapping of a small dog which changed David's plans, and finally sent him to South Africa instead of America. While paying his bill at the hotel, a telegram was handed him, which he tore open as the clerk was counting out his change. He still held in his hand the letter to his mother which he was on the point of dropping in the letter-box at his elbow. Instead, he thrust it in his pocket, along with the crushed telegram, and, taking a cab, hastened to the steamship offices to cancel his date for sailing.
The message read: "Return with all speed to London. Mr. Stretton lying in the hospital with a fractured skull." Thus it was that Lady Tredwell's pet spaniel, old and vicious, yapping at the heels of Mr. Stretton's restive horse, while my lady's maid—who should have been leading him out for an airing—was absorbed in listening to the compliments of one of the park guards, played so dire a part in the affairs of David Thryng.
To be continued...
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