“You mean you have—have found out something?”
“Not yet. But I intend to.”
Dorr stared at him in silence.
“You are very fond of dogs, Mr. Dorr?”
“Eh? Oh, yes. Yes, certainly,” said the other mechanically.
Average Jones shot a sudden glance of surprise at him, then looked dreamily at his own finger-nails.
“I can sympathize with you. I have exhibited for some years. Your dog was perhaps a green ribboner?”
“Er—oh—yes; I believe so.”
“Ah! Several of mine have been. One in particular, took medal after medal; a beautiful glossy brown bulldog, with long silky ears, and the slender splayed-out legs that are so highly prized but so seldom seen nowadays. His tail, too, had the truly Willoughby curve, from his dam, who was a famous courser.”
Mr. Dorr looked puzzled. “I didn’t know they used that kind of dog for coursing,” he said vaguely.