It vanishes; then the dog stirs again, and, once
more, the gleam comes. I am puzzled. The dog is quiet, and I can see the
luminous thing, plainly. It shows distinctly. There is something
familiar about the shape of it. For a moment, I wonder; then it comes to
me, that it is not unlike the four fingers and thumb of a hand. Like a
hand! And I remember the contour of that fearsome wound on the dog's
side. It must be the wound I see. It is luminous at night--Why? The
minutes pass. My mind is filled with this fresh thing....
Suddenly, I hear a sound, out in the gardens. How it thrills through
me. It is approaching. Pad, pad, pad. A prickly sensation traverses my
spine, and seems to creep across my scalp. The dog moves in his kennel,
and whimpers, frightenedly. He must have turned 'round; for, now, I can
no longer see the outline of his shining wound.
Outside, the gardens are silent, once more, and I listen, fearfully. A
minute passes, and another; then I hear the padding sound, again. It is
quite close, and appears to be coming down the graveled path.
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