Several months later a friend from Northampton who happened to be calling upon us exclaimed when she saw Pierre:
"Why, where in the world did you get Madame B.'s dog?"
"He isn't Madame's dog," I replied. "He's just a tramp, although a very distinguished one. He came to us last May and has had the best the house afforded ever since."
Then the friend told us of the actress's loss, while in the city, and of the advertisement. She also said that she had seen the dog on the rear platform of the car, and the maid combing him. She had likewise seen him half an hour later in a lively dog fight in another part of the city. When she called the attention of a policeman to the identity of the dog, he only laughed and refused to arrest the run-
