Nigger, the little yapping terrier bitch of Edward of Wales, † whined disconsolately by day, all last week, and howled eerily by night. Servants at H. R. H.'s bachelor quarters in York House, London, could not quite shake off uneasy qualms aroused by the dog's palpable terror and grief. Suppose, just suppose the little bitch knew, with feminine intuition, that her master would never return. Absurdyet Master Wales had set out, last week, to journey a long way awayto South & East Africa.
There would be more danger than might be supposed.*
Nervous and loyal Britons were glad that with Edward...
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