"It's dying," said Sara Lee with white lips.

"It will die," replied Henri, "but how soon? They are very strong,
these little beasts."

The conductor of the bus made a suggestion then, one that froze the
blood round Sara Lee's heart: "If you'll move away and let us run over
it proper it'll be out of its trouble, miss."

Sara Lee raised haggard eyes to Henri.

"Did you hear that?" she said. "They'd do it too!"

The total result of a conference between four policemen, the costermonger,
and, by that time, Mr. Travers--was to draw the animal off the street
and into the square. Sara Lee stuck close by. So, naturally, did
Henri. And when the hopeless condition of Nellie, as they learned she
was named, became increasingly evident, Henri behaved like a man and a
soldier.

He got out his revolver and shot her in the brain.

"A kindness," he explained, as Sara Lee would have caught his hand.
"The only way, mademoiselle."

Mr. Travers had the usual British hatred of a crowd and publicity,
coupled with a deadly fear of getting into the papers, except through
an occasional letter to the _Times_. He vanished just before the shot,
and might have been seen moving rapidly through the square, turning