“Then he was a Pera dog?”

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“Yes, and I and the brother-officers who were living with me made friends with him.  We gave him food and spoke kindly to him, and he laid aside his prejudices against foreigners, and laid his tawny limbs on our threshold.  We became really attached to each other.  He received the very British name of Jack, and seemed quite contented with it.  He took walks with us.  It was then that again and again we tried to deceive him about the limits of his Quarter, and get him into another one unawares.  He never was misled.  But later on, as he grew tame, less fearful of things in general, and more unwilling to quit us when we were out together, he sometimes strayed beyond his bounds, not because he was deceived as to his limits, but he ventured on the risk for our sakes.  Even then, however, he would not walk in the public thoroughfares, he ‘dodged’ through gardens, empty courtyards and quiet by-places where he was not likely to meet the outraged dogs of the Quarter he was invading.  The moment we were safe back ‘in bounds’ he came freely and happily to our side once more.  I have often wondered, since I left Constantinople, how long Jack lived, and how he died.”

“Oh, didn’t you take him away?”

“I couldn’t, my dear.  And you must not think, Maggie, that if Turks do not pet dogs they are cruel to them.  It is not the case.  A Turk would never dream of petting a dog, but if he saw one looking hot and thirsty in the street he would be more likely to take trouble to get it a dish of water than many English people who feed their own particular pets on mutton-chops.  Jack was not likely to be ill-treated after our departure, but I sometimes have a heart-sore suspicion that we may have raised dreams in his doggish heart never again to be realized.  If he were at all like other dogs (and the more we knew of him the more companionable he became), he must have waited many a long hour in patient faithfulness at our deserted threshold.  He must have felt his own importance as a dog with a name, in that wild and nameless tribe to which he belonged.  He must have dreamed of his foreign friends on many a blazing summer’s afternoon.  Perhaps he stole cautiously into other Quarters to look for us.  I hope he did not venture too far—­Maggie—­my dear Maggie!  You are not fretting about poor Jack?  I assure you that really the most probable thing is that our successors made friends with him.”

“Do you really and truly think so, Cousin Peregrine?”

“On my word of honour I do, Maggie.  You must remember that Jack was not a Stamboul dog.  He belonged to Pera, where Europeans live, so there is a strong probability that his unusual tameness and beauty won other friends for him when we had gone.”

“I hope somebody very nice lived in your house when you went away.”

“I hope so, Maggie.”

“Cousin Peregrine, do you think we could teach Ponto to know his own quarter?”