'Well, that's a relief, Mr Dibbler.'
'Why's that?'
'Well, it'd be dreadful if they were crooks and professional.'
Gaspode nodded. Nice one. Nice one.
There was the sound of footsteps hurrying around a desk. When Dibbler spoke next, you could have sunk a well in his voice and sold it at ten dollars a barrel.
'Victor! Vic! Haven't I been like an uncle to you?'
Well, yes, thought Gaspode. He's like an uncle to most people here. That's because they're his nephews.
He stopped listening, partly because Victor was going to get his day off and was very likely going to get paid for it as well, but mainly because another dog had been led into the room.
It was huge and glossy. Its coat shone like honey.
Gaspode recognized it as pure-bred Ramtop hunting dog. When it sat down beside him, it was as if a beautifully sleek racing yacht had slipped into a berth alongside a coal barge.
He heard Soll say, 'So that is Uncle's latest idea, is it? What's it called?'
'Laddie,' said the handler.
'How much was it?'
'Sixty dollars.'
'For a dog? We're in the wrong business.'
'It can do all kinds of tricks, the breeder said. Bright as a button, he said. Just what Mr Dibbler is looking for.'
'Well, tie it up there. And if that other mutt starts a fight, kick it out.'
Gaspode gave Soll a long, thoughtful scrutiny. Then, when the attention was no longer on them, he sidled closer to the newcomer, looked it up and down, and spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth.
'What you here for?' he said.
The dog gave him a look of handsome incomprehension.
'I mean, do you b'long to someone or what?' said Gaspode.
The dog whined softly.
Gaspode tried Basic Canine, which is a combination of whines and sniffs.
'Hallo?' he ventured. 'Anyone in there?'
The dog's tail thumped uncertainly.
'The grub here's ruddy awful,' said Gaspode.
The dog raised its highly-bred muzzle.
'What dis place?' it said.
'This is Holy Wood,' said Gaspode conversationally. 'I'm Gaspode. Named after the famous Gaspode, you know. Anythin' you want to know, you just-'
'All dese two-legs here. Dur . . . What dis place?'