Quill's Window Part 24

"But Mrs. Strong didn't say anything about the accident," he said over the wire. "She simply said you were in town for the night."

"I can't understand that," replied Alix. "She knew why I came up to town, and I telephoned her during the afternoon that I would stay overnight.

"She might have told me," he complained. "It would have relieved my mind enormously. I--I was horribly unhappy. Never closed my eyes. I thought you,--that is, I wondered if I had done anything to offend you. My Lord, you'll never know how happy I am this minute.

My heart is singing--And to think it was like a lump of lead all last night. Do try to come out this evening."

She did not answer at once, but he could plainly hear her breathing.

Then she said softly:

"If--if the child is better. I can't leave Marjorie until--until--"

"I understand," he cried heartily. "What a selfish beast I am. Don't give me another thought. Your place is there. Because you are an angel!"

Later on he sauntered over to the postoffice. A number of men and women were congregated in front of the drug store, among them Charlie Webster and A. Lincoln Pollock. The latter had his "pad"

in hand and was writing industriously.

"What's the excitement?" Courtney inquired, coming up to Charlie.

"Somebody poisoned Henry Brickler's collie last night," replied Charlie. There was a dark scowl on his chubby face.

"You don't mean that corking dog up at the white house on the--"

"Yep. That's the one," replied Charlie harshly. "Anybody that would poison a dog ought to be tarred and feathered."

"Who did it?"

"You don't suppose a man mean enough to give an unsuspectin' dog a dose of poison would be kind enough to pin his card on the gatepost, do you? I should say not!"

"But why on earth should any one want to poison that big beautiful dog?" cried Courtney indignantly. "Had he bitten anybody?"

"Not as anybody knows of. Henry says he never harmed a living soul.

That dog--"

"By George!" exclaimed Courtney suddenly. "This reminds me of something. I pa.s.sed a couple of men last night down at the corner where you turn up to Miss Crown's. They were leaning against the fence on the opposite side of the road, and I had the queerest sort of feeling about them. I felt that they were watching me. I remember turning my head to look back at them. They were still standing there. It was too dark to see what they looked like--"

"Wait a second," broke in Charlie. "Here's Bill Foss, the constable.

Tell it to him, Court."

The town constable, vastly excited, came up the street, accompanied by two or three stern-visaged citizens.

"Well, by thunder!" growled the officer, wiping his forehead.

"Somebody's been making a wholesale job of it. d.i.c.k Hurdle's 'Jackie'

and Bert Little's 'Prince' are dead as doornails. That makes three.

Now, who the h.e.l.l,--"

"Just a second,--just a second," cried A. Lincoln Pollock, elbowing his way into the thick of the new group. "Let me get the facts.

You first, d.i.c.k. Where did you find your dog's remains? Now, take it calm, d.i.c.k. Don't cuss like that. I can't print a word of it, you know,--not a word. Remember there are ladies present, d.i.c.k.

You've got to--"

Mr. Hurdle said he didn't give a cuss if all the women in town were present, he was going to say what he thought of any blankety-blank,--and so on at great length, despite the fact that the ladies crowded even a little closer, evidently reluctant to miss a word of his just and unbridled blasphemy.

The occasion demanded the sonorous efficiency of Mr. Richard Hurdle. In all Windomville there was no one so well qualified to do justice to the situation as he. (Later on, Charlie Webster was heard to remark that "as long as these dogs had to be killed, it's a great relief that d.i.c.k's was one of 'em, because he's got the best pair of lungs in town. He can expand his chest nearly seven inches, and when he fills all that extra s.p.a.ce up with words n.o.body ever even heard of before, people clear over in Illinois have to rush out and shoo their children into the house and keep 'em there till it blows over.")

Doctor Smith came rattling up in his Ford, hopped out, and started to enter the drug store. Catching sight of the druggist in the crowd, he stopped to bawl out:

"Who's been buying prussic acid of you, Sam Foster? What do you mean by selling--"

"I ain't sold a grain of prussic acid in ten years," roared Mr.

Foster. "Or any other kind of poison. Don't you accuse ME of--"

"Anything new, Doc? Anything new?" cried the editor of the Sun, rushing up to the doctor.

"They got that dog of Alix Crown's. I tried to save him,--but he was as good as dead when I got there. Of all the d.a.m.nable outrages--"

"Miss Crown's dog?" cried Courtney, aghast, "Good G.o.d! Why,--why, it will break her heart! She LOVED that dog! Men! We've got to find the scoundrel. We've got to FIX him. He ought to be strung up. Has any one called Miss Crown up, Doctor? She is in the city. She--"

"Mrs. Strong called her up. The automobile started for town fifteen or twenty minutes ago to bring her home."

"Keep your shirt on, Court," warned Charlie Webster. "You'll bust a blood vessel. Cool off! There's no use talkin' about GETTING him.

Whoever it was that planted these dog-b.u.t.tons around town was slick enough to cover up his tracks. We'll never find out who did it. It's happened before, and the result is always the same. Dead dogs tell no tales."

"But those two fellows I saw down at the corner last night--"

"Would you be able to identify them?"

"No,--hang it all! It was too dark. It was about half-past nine.

Why, earlier in the evening I was at Miss Crown's. I saw the dog.

He was on the terrace. He growled at me,--he always growled at me.

He didn't like me. Mrs. Strong came to the door and called him into the house. I am sure he was all right then. When is he supposed to have got the poison, Doctor?"

"This morning. She let him out of the house about seven o'clock.

Paid no attention to him till he came crawling around to the kitchen door some time afterward. He just laid down and kicked a few times,--that's what makes me think it was prussic acid. It knocks 'em quick."

"Come on, Charlie," cried Courtney, clutching the other's arm. "We must go up to the house. There may be some trace,--something that will give us a clue."

He was at the house when the car returned without Alix. She had sent the chauffeur back with instructions to bury the dog. She could not bear looking at him. She wanted it to be all over with before she came home.

"I don't blame her," said Charlie soberly. "Shows how much she thought of Sergeant when she's willing to pay five hundred dollars reward for the capture of the man or men who poisoned him."

"Where did you hear that?" demanded Courtney, surprised.

"Ed Stevens says she told him to authorize Bill Foss to have reward notices struck off over at the Sun office, offering five hundred cash. She always said that dog was the best friend she had on earth."

"But five hundred dollars! Why, good Lord, you can buy a dozen police dogs for that amount of--"

"You couldn't have bought Sergeant for ten times five hundred,"

interrupted Charlie. "You see, as a matter of fact, he didn't actually belong to Alix."