'
'You say you wake; are you sure about that?
"Hallucinations" are sometimes only dreams.'
'Oh, I wake all right. Sometimes I lie still a long
time, looking at the dog as earnestly as the dog
looks at me--I always leave the light going. When
I can't endure it any longer I sit up in bed--and
nothing is there!
''M, 'm--what is the beast's expression?'
'It seems to me sinister. Of course I know that,
except in art, an animal's face in repose has always
the same expression. But this is not a real animal.
Newfoundland dogs are pretty mild looking, you
know; what's the matter with this one?"
'Really, my diagnosis would have no value: I am
not going to treat the dog.'
The physician laughed at his own pleasantry, but
narrowly watched his patient from the corner of his
eye. Presently he said: 'Fleming, your description
of the beast fits the dog of the late Atwell Barton.'
Fleming half rose from his chair, sat again and
made a visible attempt at indifference. 'I remember
Barton,' he said; 'I believe he was--it was re-
ported that--wasn't there something suspicious in
his death?'
Looking squarely now into the eyes of his patient,
the physician said: 'Three years ago the body of
your old enemy, Atwell Barton, was found in the
woods near his house and yours. He had been
stabbed to death. There have been no arrests; there
was no clue. Some of us had "theories." I had one.
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