“Landlord, I’m going to the house to remain till my stepmother returns. I suppose I’ll find some one there?”
“Only the servant, sir.”
“All the better, then; I’ll not be disturbed in my sorrow. Can you direct me?”
“Certainly,” was the response, and the landlord gave the necessary directions, concluding with: “You can’t miss it.”
“Come on, old fellow; we’ll go together,” said the afflicted man to the dog.
And as Nick was driven to the depot, in the town bus, he saw the wandering prodigal walking up the road in the opposite direction, while Rover went gamboling along at his side.
“If men were endowed with the instinct of dogs,” muttered Nick, “crimes like this would never be committed.”
Then he heaved a sigh as he watched the capers of the happy dog, and again muttered:
“Poor brute! Your instinct this time will cost you your life. You know too much to live. And if I was suspected of sharing your knowledge, my life would also be in danger.”