“Nor I,” said the colonel; “I thought from the first that was never my Bingo.  Why, Bingo would make two of that beast!”

And Lilian and her aunt both protested that they had had their doubts from the first.

“Zen you pairmeet zat I remove ’im?” said the Frenchman.

“Certainly,” said the colonel; and, after some apologies on our part for the mistake, he went off in triumph, with the detestable poodle frisking after him.

When he had gone the colonel laid his hand kindly on my shoulder.  “Don’t look so cut up about it, my boy,” he said; “you did your best—­there was a sort of likeness to any one who didn’t know Bingo as we did.”

Just then the Frenchman again appeared at the hedge.  “A thousand pardons,” he said, “but I find zis upon my dog; it is not to me.  Suffer me to restore it viz many compliments.”

It was Bingo’s collar.  Travers took it from his hand and brought it to us.

“This was on the dog when you stopped that fellow, didn’t you say?” he asked me.

One more lie—­and I was so weary of falsehood!  “Y-yes,” I said, reluctantly; “that was so.”

“Very extraordinary,” said Travers; “that’s the wrong poodle beyond a doubt, but when he’s found he’s wearing the right dog’s collar!  Now how do you account for that?”

“My good fellow,” I said, impatiently, “I’m not in the witness-box.  I can’t account for it.  It-it’s a mere coincidence!”

“But look here, my dear Weatherhead,” argued Travers (whether in good faith or not I never could quite make out), “don’t you see what a tremendously important link it is?  Here’s a dog who (as I understand the facts) had a silver collar, with his name engraved on it, round his neck at the time he was lost.  Here’s that identical collar turning up soon afterward round the neck of a totally different dog!  We must follow this up; we must get at the bottom of it somehow!  With a clue like this, we’re sure to find out either the dog himself, or what’s become of him!  Just try to recollect exactly what happened, there’s a good fellow.  This is just the sort of thing I like!”

It was the sort of thing I did not enjoy at all.  “You must excuse me to-night, Travers,” I said, uncomfortably; “you see, just now it’s rather a sore subject for me, and I’m not feeling very well!” I was grateful just then for a reassuring glance of pity and confidence from Lilian’s sweet eyes, which revived my drooping spirits for the moment.

“Yes, we’ll go into it to-morrow, Travers,” said the colonel; “and then—­hullo, why, there’s that confounded Frenchman again!”

It was indeed; he came prancing back delicately, with a malicious enjoyment on his wrinkled face.  “Once more I return to apologise,” he said.  “My poodle ’as permit ’imself ze grave indiscretion to make a very big ’ole at ze bottom of ze garden!”

I assured him that it was of no consequence.  “Perhaps,” he replied, looking steadily at me through his keen, half-shut eyes, “you vill not say zat ven you regard ze ’ole.  And you others, I spik to you:  sometimes von loses a somzing vich is qvite near all ze time.  It is ver’ droll, eh? my vord, ha, ha, ha!” And he ambled off, with an aggressively fiendish laugh that chilled my blood.