" He added: "Even if
you won't help me, I trust you to keep my secret."
"Of course I'll keep your secret, old son."
"I'm going to take Josephine and her kittens to Trotman," Timmy announced
solemnly. "I've been wondering, coming along the passage, if you would
take us there in your motor. But if you don't feel you want to do that,
I'm going to walk. It's not very far, only seven miles if one goes by
footpaths, and I could get a lift back."
"Trotman?" repeated Radmore. "Who's Trotman?"
It was Timmy's turn to be surprised. "I thought everyone--I mean every
man--in the world, knew about Trotman! Why, there was an account of him
once in the _London Magazine_. He's the famous vet--he lives at Epsom."
Radmore lay back, and whistled thoughtfully.
Timmy went on eagerly. "Last year there was a man near here who thought
he had a mad dog--and he took _him_ to Trotman. Trotman kept him for ever
so long, and it turned out that the dog was not mad at all. I _know_ that
Josephine isn't mad."
"I don't think she's mad," said Radmore frankly, "but she's a pretty
vicious brute, Timmy. Is this the first time she's ever flown at anyone?"
He looked searchingly at his godson.
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