d Constantia.

"--And here he is!" exclaimed Constantia, without rising, "--come, as
it happens, to have it out with the pair of you. . . . Hallo, Jack!"

I am bound to say that my first look at Jack Foe gave me a start, as
he too started at sight of Jimmy, whose presence, of course, he had
not expected. He was pale in comparison with the tan of two months
back: but at every other point he was wonderfully set up and
improved. It was Constantia's doing, belike: but he had become again
in appearance the Jack Foe of old times--a trifle more seamed in the
face but with a straightness and uprightness of carriage that
rejuvenated him. His clothes, too, were of the old cut, modestly
distinguished.

"Collingwood too?" said he, nodding easily. "That's better than I
looked for. . . . You have told them?" he asked Constantia with a
frank look of understanding. Then his eyes wandered, naturally, over
the disorder in the room.

"Roddy is packing," said Constantia.

"For South America," said I.

"And after that? Yes, you needn't tell," he went on with an ease
which I could only admire. "It's the island, of course--I had your
note and was going to answer it, but Miss Denistoun--Constantia--
insisted that I should call round and tell you. The latitude is--"

"One moment," interrupted Jimmy. "You let the door slam behind you,
Professor: and your dog is protesting."

"My dog?" Foe turned about, as Jimmy stepped to the passage. "What
are you talking about, Collingwood? I don't own such a thing."

"I'll be damned if there isn't one snuffling at that outer door,"
said Jimmy, and went quickly out into the passage. I heard the lock
click back and, upon the noise, a scuffle and gallop of a four-footed
beast: and, with that, a great yellow dog burst in at the doorway of
the room, took a leap forward, crouched, and slowly stiffened itself
up with its legs, its back hunched and bristling. There it stood,
letting out its voice in a growl that sounded almost like a groan of
satisfied desire.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Jimmy, following. "If this isn't your
Billy, Professor, come to life!"

And I, too, cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Foe--against whom
the hound evidently stiffened, as a pointer at its game. Foe, white
as a sheet, was leaning back, his shoulders propped against the edge
of the mantelshelf.

"He is not my dog," he gasped out. "Take him away: he's dangerous!"

"Looks so, anyway," said Jimmy calmly