of my task.

I took the knife from the floor where I had flung it, scrubbed it, and
placed it in my suit-case. Then I scrubbed the floor clean, afterward
rubbing it with a soiled rag to make its appearance uniform.

I washed my hands, and thought I had finally removed all traces of the
affair; but, coming back, I perceived something upon the floor which
had escaped my notice. It was the leather collar of the Eskimo dog,
with its big silver studs and the maker's silver name-plate.

All this while the animal had remained perfectly quiet in the room
crouching at Jacqueline's feet and beside the bed. It had not
attempted to molest me, as I had feared might be the case during the
course of my gruesome work.

I came to the conclusion that there might have been a struggle; that it
had run to its mistress's assistance, and that the collar had been torn
from it by the dead man.

My first thought was to put the collar back upon the creature's neck;
but then I came to the conclusion that this might possibly serve as a
means of identification. And it was essential that no one should be
able to identify the dog.

So I picked the collar up and carried it into the next room and held it
under the light of the incandescent gas-mantle. The letters of the
maker's name were almost obliterated, but after a careful study I was
able to make them out. The name was Maclay & Robitaille, and the place
of manufacture Quebec. This confirmed my belief concerning