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"Absolutely," he replied. "In fact, he is something of a poseur. He tries his hardest to look desperate and savage, and succeeds fairly well, but in reality he is the gentlest dog that ever ran from a cat."

"What's his name?"

"Bistre, so called because of the brown spot which disfigures his countenance, and which his master considers a badge of beauty."

"Oh, then he is not your dog?"

"No; he belongs to Mr. Brough. I am staying with him—that is, with Mr. Brough."


"Really?" Miles thought she observed him with a sudden access of interest and felt a qualm of jealousy; he wondered if she knew Hunter. "You're a nice dog," she remarked, stroking Bistre's beauty spot. Bistre closed his eyes and looked absolutely

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