But the police officer was absorbed in a fresh discovery. The hat was sodden with snow; and yet, darker than the soak of water, was a stain above the sweat-band.
“Doctor, there’s something on this hat.”
“What?”
“Blood.”
Dr. Stone’s lips formed to a soundless whistle. “Boothy’s blood?”
“Why not?”
“Because, Captain, if that had been human blood Lady would have shied, and whimpered, and trembled. She would have called our attention to it, but she would not have brought the hat out to us.”
Captain Tucker flared into temper. “Doctor, that’s going too far. Even a clever dog is only a dog. We’re going back.”
The police officer carried the gruesome find to the house. Joe stumbled in the snow. There had been that dark stain near the sweat-band; he had seen it, and was troubled. Was Uncle David wrong? They crossed the porch and entered the room where Mr. Wilkes waited, and on the instant the man cried out in nasal horror:
“It’s Boothy’s hat. And there’s blood on it.”