His little accession of strength and confidence now only arose from the fact that owing to the intervention of the circumstance of the dog, the murder was, as it were, put off for a little time; he must first dispose of the dog, then the murder itself, with all its damning train of fears and agonies, would take its former prominent place in his mind, and again would Jacob Gray tremble to his very heart’s core.
Stealthily he moved his way up the staircase, his great object being to ascertain if the dog was within or without the chamber of Ada.
His doubts were soon resolved, for suddenly a low growl from the faithful animal smote his ears.
Jacob Gray gave a malignant smile, as he said in a low whisper, “The dog is outside the door.”
The growl of the hound now deepened to a louder note, and just as that again was shaping itself to a short angry bark, Jacob Gray threw up the piece of poisoned meat on to the landing on the top of the staircase.
Folding his lamp then under the lappels of his coat, Jacob Gray sat down on the staircase, with a feeling of gratification on his mind, that, in all human probability he was at length revenged on the poor animal, whose only crime had been too much affection and fidelity towards the hand that fed and caressed him, and the voice that spoke to him in kindly tones.
All was as still as the grave after the meat had been thrown, and after several minutes of suspense, Jacob Gray began to feel anxious for some indication of the success of his scheme. Cautiously, he then ascended a step or two, and paused—no sound met his ears. A few steps more were gained—then a few more and finally, by stretching out his arm with the light, he could command a view of the landing-place, but he looked in vain for the dog: the animal was nowhere to be seen. Jacob Gray now stood fairly upon the landing, and peered carefully around him, with the hope of seeing the body of his foe, but such was not the case.
The open door of the outer room which led to Ada’s smaller sleeping chamber now caught his eyes, and at once afforded a clue to the retreat of the dog.
With a soft footfall that could not have possibly disturbed the lightest sleeper, Gray entered that room, and moving his hand slowly round him, so as to illuminate by turns all parts of the apartment, he saw, at length, the object of his search.
Close up to the door leading to Ada’s room was the hound quite dead. The faithful creature had evidently made an effort to awaken, its gentle and kind mistress, for its paws were clenched against the bottom of the door, where there was a crevice left.