"That's no plant," Arthurjean Briggs announced. "It wouldn't make sense for the F.B.I. to pull it. Harcourt sent you there in the first place but he wouldn't put her up to a trick like that."
"He'll be hot on my trail then," I said. "All those clergymen I saw will have to be checked—when all the time—"
"Do you know what I'd do if I was you," she said abruptly. "I'd get rid of that damn dog—but fast."
"You mean sell it?" I asked.
"I mean kill it. It isn't natural, acting that way. It's been worrying you nigh crazy, that's what it's been doing. You just take it to the vet's and have it chloroformed. They do it all the time on account of the rabbis—"
"Rabies," I corrected.
"That's right, but they do it, don't they? You don't have to get permission. He's your property. You can tell the vet he bit you—"
I started up. "Hell!" I exclaimed. "I've got to get him away from the kennels fast. It's—it's—"
Arthurjean put her large, strong hand on my shoulder.
"There, honey," she soothed me. "It's all right. It's going to be all right."