Leo kept close to Margie, trotting along beside her, uttering every now
and then a low whine indicative of anticipation and pleasure.
Darby produced a handkerchief which had belonged to Mr. Paul Linmere,
and which he had found in his rooms, lying on his dressing-table. He
showed this to the dog; Leo snuffed at it, and gave a sharp grunt of
displeasure.
"We want you to find him, Leo, good dog," said the Italian, stroking the
silky ears of the dog; "find your master."
Leo understood, but he looked around in evident perplexity.
"Take him to the depot!" said Mr. Trevlyn, "he may find the trail there."
They went to the station; the dog sniffed hurriedly at the platform, and
in a moment more dashed off into the highway leading to Harrison Park.
"Him got him!" cried Pietro; "him find my master!"
The whole company joined in following the dog. He went straight ahead,
his nose to the ground, his fleet limbs bearing him along with a rapidity
that the anxious followers found it hard to emulate.
At a brook which crossed the road he stopped, seemed a little confused,
crossed it finally on stepping stones, paused a moment by the side of a
bare nut tree, leaped the fence, and dashed off through a grass field.
Keeping steadily on, he made for the grounds of the Park, passed the
drained pond, and the frost-ruined garden, and pausing before the
inclosure where slept the Harrison dead, he lifted his head and gave
utterance to a howl so wild, so savagely unearthly, that it chilled the
blood in the veins of those who heard.
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