"You couldn't have bought Sergeant for ten times five hundred," interrupted Charlie. "You see, as a matter of fact, he didn't actually belong to Alix."
"You must be crazy. She has had him since he was a puppy three months old."
"Sure, But, all the same, he didn't belong to her. He belonged to David Strong. Davy got him in France in the spring of 1918 and sent him clear over here for his mother to take care of for him."
Courtney was silent for a moment. "It's strange Miss Crown never told me this," he said, biting his lip.
"Well," said Charlie quaintly, "far as that goes, I don't suppose it ever occurred to her to tell Sergeant he belonged to somebody else, but even if she had I don't reckon it would have made a darn' bit of difference to him. He would have gone on loving her, just the same,—and workin' twenty-four hours a day for her, Sundays and holidays included. A dog don't care who he belongs to, Court, but he's mighty darned particular about who belongs to him."
"I can't understand why he never seemed to like me," mused Courtney.
"Well, maybe," began Charlie soberly, "—maybe, after all, he DID sort of know that he was Davy Strong's dog."
II — For three days Windomville talked of nothing but the "dog murders." The Sun came out on Thursday with a long and graphic account of the mysterious affairs of Monday night, including the views and theories of well-known citizens. It also took occasion to "lambast" Constable Foss with great severity. The Constable, being a Republican, (and not a subscriber to the Sun), was described as about the most incompetent official Windomville had ever known, and that it would have been quite possible for the miscreant or miscreants to have poisoned every dog in town, in broad daylight, accompanied by a brass band, without Bill ever "getting onto it."
It goes without saying that everybody in town was stimulated to prodigious activity by the reward offered by Miss Crown. Notices were stuck up in the postoffice and on all the telephone poles. A great many embarrassing incidents resulted, and three fist-fights of considerable violence occurred,—for the gentlemen accused of the crimes took drastic and specific means of establishing complete and satisfactory alibis.
Courtney Thane chafed under the prolonged absence of Alix Crown. Valuable time was being wasted. He had assisted at the burial of Sergeant, and had shed tears with Mrs. Strong while Ed Stevens, the chauffeur, was filling in the grave up back of the orchard; and he had done further homage to the dead by planting a small American flag at the head of the mound and,—as an afterthought,—the flag of Belgium at the foot.