by any means
court publicity. Besides, he felt pretty sure that his end was gained.
He remembered, no doubt, the rule of the Office, that no letters or
other things that have been posted can be returned to the sender, and,
having seen the dog safely posted, he went home with a relieved mind.

Meanwhile the policeman took the remains of poor Floppart by the tail,
holding it at arm's-length for fear of the deadly poison supposed to be
on its lips; and left the kitchen by a long passage. The men of the
Post-Office returned to their food and their duties. Those who manage
the details of her Majesty's mails cannot afford to waste time when on
duty. The policeman, left to himself, lost himself in the labyrinth of
the basement. He made his way at last into the warm and agreeable room
in which are kept the boilers that drive the engine that works the
lifts. He was accosted by a stalwart stoker, whose appearance and air
were as genial as the atmosphere of his apartment.

"Hallo!" said he, "what 'ave you got there?"

"A mad dog," answered the policeman.--"I say, stoker, have you any
ashpit where I could bury him?"

"Couldn't allow 'im burial in our ashpit," replied the stoker, with a
decided shake of the head; "altogether out of the question."

The policeman looked at the dead dog and at the stoker with a perplexed
air.

"I say, look here," he said, "couldn't we--ah--don't you think that we
might--"

He paused, and cast a furtive glance at the furnaces.

"What! you don't mean--cremate 'im?"

The policeman nodded.

"Well, now, I don't know that it's actooally against the rules of the
GPO," replied the stoker, with a meditative frown, "but it seems to me a
raither unconstitootional proceedin'. It's out o' the way of our usual
line of business, but--"

"That's right," said the policeman, as the stoker, who was an obliging
man, took up a great shovel and flung open the furnace-door.

A terrific glare of intense heat and light shot out, appearing as if
desirous of licking the stoker and policeman into its dreadful embrace.

"I don't half like it," said the stoker, glancing in; "the
Postmaster-General might object, you know."

"Not a bit of it, he's too much of a gentleman to object--come," said
the policeman encouragingly.

The stoker held up the shovel. The body of Floppart was put thereon,
after the removal of its collar. There was one good swing of the
shovel, followed by a heave, and the little dog fell