A man appeared very promptly in answer to the bell.

“Sniffen, my overcoat,” said the philanthropist.

“It is ’ere, sir,” answered Sniffen, helping the thin old man into the great fur folds.

“There is no word of the dog, I suppose, Sniffen?”

“None, sir.  The police was here again yesterday sir, but they said as ’ow—­”

“The police!” The words were fierce with scorn.  “Eight thousand incompetents!” He turned abruptly and went toward the door, where he halted a moment.

“Mr. Mathews, since that woman’s letter did reach me, I suppose I must pay for my carelessness—­or yours.  Send her—­what does she say—­four children?—­ send her a hundred dollars.  But, for my sake, send it anonymously.  Write her that I pay no attention to such claims.”  He went out, and Sniffen closed the door behind him.

“Takes losin’ the little dog ’ard, don’t he?” remarked Sniffen, sadly, to the secretary.  “I’m afraid there ain’t a chance of findin’ ’im now.  ’E ain’t been stole, nor ’e ain’t been found, or they’d ’ave brung him back for the reward.  ’E’s been knocked on the ’ead, like as not.  ’E wasn’t much of a dog to look at, you see—­just a pup, I’d call ‘im.  An’ after ‘e learned that trick of slippin’ ’is collar off—­well, I fancy Mr. Carter’s seen the last of ’im.  I do, indeed.”

Mr. Carter meanwhile was making his way slowly down the snowy avenue, upon his accustomed walk.  The walk, however, was dull to-day, for Skiddles, his little terrier, was not with him to add interest and excitement.  Mr. Carter had found Skiddles in the country a year and a half before.  Skiddles, then a puppy, was at the time in a most undignified and undesirable position, stuck in a drain tile, and unable either to advance or to retreat.  Mr. Carter had shoved him forward, after a heroic struggle, whereupon Skiddles had licked his hand.  Something in the little dog’s eye, or his action, had induced the rich philanthropist to bargain for him and buy him at a cost of half a dollar.  Thereafter Skiddles became his daily companion, his chief distraction, and finally the apple of his eye.

Skiddles was of no known parentage, hardly of any known breed, but he suited Mr. Carter.  What, the millionaire reflected with a proud cynicism, were his own antecedents, if it came to that?  But now Skiddles had disappeared.

As Sniffen said, he had learned the trick of slipping free from his collar.  One morning the great front doors had been left open for two minutes while the hallway was aired.  Skiddles must have slipped down the marble steps unseen, and dodged round the corner.  At all events, he had vanished, and although the whole police force of the city had been roused to secure his return, it was aroused in vain.  And for three weeks, therefore, a small, straight, white bearded man in a fur overcoat had walked in mournful irritation alone.