“My old Don! My poor old Don!”
The dog’s eyes were glazed, and Nick saw at a glance as he came up that the dog was dying.
But from time to time, the poor beast would turn a look of deep affection on the beautiful woman and lick the hand that soothed and petted him.
“Mrs. Constant.” said the banker, “here is Mr. Carter, the celebrated detective. I have hopes that I can persuade him to look into this case.”
“It is too late to save my poor old Don,” said Mrs. Constant, looking up. “As for the miscreant, I know him. He is——”
“One moment,” hastily interrupted the banker. “What you have to say as to charges and suspicions say to Mr. Carter alone. He is to be trusted, and his advice will be well worth following.”
Mrs. Constant looked up at Nick, smiling through her tears, and said:
“Very well. When can I talk to you, Mr. Carter?”
Handing her his card, Nick said:
“Come to my house when you can.”