side of the house—she found, after the first rapturous hug of reunion, a something under the hand that caressed the neck of Alcibiades.
The gaslight in her own room defined the something as a bag of leather, the tan leather of which gentlemen’s gloves are made. There was a bit of worn strap hanging below it. Within was a note.
“A thousand thanks for bringing him home. If he should run away again, please let me know. And don’t trouble to send him back. I’ll call for him, if I may.
“Richard Graeme.”
Judy would very much have liked to let Captain Graeme call, but there are such things as aunts.
She tied another note to the “cur’s” collar and wired him once more to the Paragon House railings. The note said:
“It’s no use. He can bite through leather. Do use a chain.”
Next time Alcibiades returned he dragged a half yard of fine chain. It was neatly filed, but Judy was a woman and the detail escaped her.
