"And plugged her with an air-gun?"
"Your air-gun," expostulated the Duke hastily.
"Your plug," said Hank calmly, "well, that cat——"
"Don't tell me," said the Duke, rising in his agitation—"don't tell me that this poor unoffending feline, which your gun——"
"Your shot," murmured Hank.
"Which your wretched air-gun so ruthlessly destroyed," continued the Duke sternly, "don't tell me it is the faithful dumb friend of 66?"
"It was," corrected Hank.
"The devil it was!" said his grace, subsiding into gloom.
IV
The situation was a tragic one. Alicia Terrill trembling with indignation, a faint flush on her pretty face, and her forehead wrinkled in an angry frown, kept her voice steady with an effort, and looked down from the step ladder on which she stood, at the urbane young man on the other side of the wall.