rhead, I'd say, and the marks of the fangs show plainly on his
throat.'"

"But I thought you said it was a water moccasin," I objected. "Now
Doctor Kirchoff says it was a copperhead----"

"_Ah hah_!" de Grandin laughed a thought unpleasantly. "Did no one
ever tell you that the copperhead and moccasin are of close kind, my
friend? Have not you heard some ophiologists maintain the moccasin is
but a dark variety of copperhead?" He did not pause for my reply, but
turned again to Ned:

"One understands your chivalry, _Monsieur_. For yourself you have no
fear, since after all at times life can be bought too dearly, but the
death of your small dog has put a different aspect on the matter. If
this never-to-be-sufficiently-anathematized serpent which comes and
goes like the _boite a surprise_--the how do you call him? Jack from
the box?--is enough a ghost thing to appear at any time and place it
wills, but sufficiently physical to exude venom which will kill a
strong and healthy terrier, you have the fear for Mademoiselle Nella,
_n'est-ce-pas_?"

"Precisely, you----"

"And you are well advised to have the caution, my young friend. We
face a serious condition."

"What do you advise?"

The Frenchman teased his needlepoint mustache-tip with a thoughtful
thumb and forefinger. "For the present, nothing," he replied at
length. "Let me look this situation over; let me view it from all
angles. Whatever I might tell you now would probably be wrong. Suppose
we meet again one week from now. By that time I should have my data
well in hand."

"And in the meantime----"

"Continue to be coy with Mademoiselle Nella. Perhaps it would be well
if you recalled important business which requires that you leave town
till you hear from me again. There is no need to put her life in peril
at this time."

* * * * *

"If it weren't for Kirchoff's testimony I'd say Ned Minton had gone
raving crazy," I declared as the door closed on our visitors. "The
whole thing's wilder than an opium smoker's dream--that meeting with
the girl in New Orleans, the snake that comes and disappears, the
assignation in the cemetery--it's all too preposterous. But I know
Kirchoff. He's as unimaginative as a side of sole-leather, and as
efficient as he is unimaginative. If he says Minton's dog died of
snake-bite that's what it died of, but the whole affair's so utterly
fantastic----"

"Agreed," de Grandin nodded; "but what is fantas