"I will tell you the truth. The thought struck me, whether that . . . man had poisoned the dog, because she became so suddenly silent."
"Just my idea. Almira!" At the call the dog came out of the hole and wagged her tail.
"No; it's all right," said Therese. "His bed on the veranda is undisturbed. Come, Almira, I will set you free."
The great creature laid her head on her mistress's lap, and allowed her to take off the leather collar, sprung round her, licked her cheeks, and then turned to Timar, raised one of the shaggy paws, and placed it as a proof of doggish respect in his open hand. Then the dog shook herself, stretched herself out, and, after a roll on both sides, lay quiet on the soft grass. She barked no more; they could be thoroughly satisfied that that man no longer remained on the island.
Therese came nearer to Timar. "Do you know this man?"
"I once met him in Galatz. He came on board and behaved so that I could not make up my mind whether he was a spy or a smuggler. At last I got rid of him, and that concluded our acquaintance."
"And how came you by the notion that he might have poisoned Almira?"
"To tell you the truth, every word spoken down below is audible in the garret, and as I had lain down I was forced to hear all the conversation between you."
"Did you hear how he threatened me? If I could not satisfy him, it would only cost him a single word, and we should be ruined?"
"Yes; I heard that."