"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 passed 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.
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