gleaming in the shadow.

"Poor little devil, he's lonely, too!" John muttered. "Say, Binks, come
out--let's talk it over. You want to sleep with me to-night, eh? All
right, we'll keep each other company."

It was as if the little animal understood, for he came out readily,
wagging his stubby tail, and began to stand on his hind feet and lick
his master's hands. "All right, all right." John took him up in his
arms, bore him to his bed, and placed him on the side next to the wall.
And, as if fearful that John might change his mind, Binks snuggled down
between the sheets, his snout on his paws, his eyes blinking almost with
pretended drowsiness.

"Sly old boy!" John laughed, softly, and, throwing off his robe and
slippers, he closed his door and lay down by the dog. His strong arm
touched the sleek coat of his pet and somehow the contact soothed him.
With a tightness of the throat, his eyes suffused with restrained tears,
he told himself that absolutely all had not been taken from him, for
Binks was left.

CHAPTER IV

Another year passed. As he had feared it would be, John's life was all
but aimless and becoming even monotonous. What mattered it whether he
and Reed had one or two contracts more or less in the year? Neither of
them really was in need of the profits earned, and the business
continued to come as fast as they cared to attend to it. John liked best
the outside work, for then he took Binks along with him, and sometimes
in bad weather he even brought the dog to the office, where Binks would
lie quietly under his desk till called out by his master for lunch or a
short stroll in the quieter streets.

"You are too much attached to him," Reed said to him. "I have a friend
who used to have a pet like that. Some devilish person poisoned it one
night, and my friend never could get over it. He told me that if it had
been his only child it wouldn't have hurt him any more."

John shuddered and frowned darkly. "I know how he felt," he answered,
simply, and turned away.

* * * * *

One morning, when John had the office entirely to himself and was going
over some intricate plans and estimates, his stenographer came to him.

"There is an old man at the door who wants to see you," she announced.
"He refused to give his name or state his business."

"Well, tell him, then, that I won't see him," John ordered,
impatiently.

The girl left and came back. "He wouldn't give his nam