ay of making
conversation he remarked, "I didna ken ye had a dog, John."

Ailie stopped stock still, the cups on the tray she was taking out
tinkling from her agitation. It was thus policemen spoke at private
doors in the dark tenements: "I didna ken ye had the smallpox." But
Mr. Traill seemed in no way alarmed. He answered with easy indulgence
"That's no' surprising. There's mony a thing you dinna ken, Davie."

The landlord forgot the matter at once, but Ailie did not, for she saw
the officer flush darkly and, having no answer ready, go out in silence.
In truth, the good-humored sarcasm rankled in the policeman's breast. An
hour later he suddenly came to a standstill below the clock tower of the
Tron kirk on High Street, and he chuckled.

"Eh, John Traill. Ye're unco' weel furnished i' the heid, but there's
ane or twa things ye dinna ken yer ainsel'."

Entirely taken up with his brilliant idea, he lost no time in putting it
to work. He dodged among the standing cabs and around the buttresses of
St. Giles that projected into the thoroughfare. In the mid-century
there was a police office in the middle of the front of the historic old
cathedral that had then fallen to its lowest ebb of fortune. There the
officer reported a matter that was strictly within the line of his duty.

Very early the next morning he was standing before the door of Mr.
Traill's place, in the fitful sunshine of clearing skies, when the
landlord appeared to begin the business of the day.

"Are ye Maister John Traill?"

"Havers, Davie! What ails you, man? You know my name as weel as you know
your ain."

"It's juist a formality o' the law to mak' ye admit yer identity. Here's
a bit paper for ye." He thrust an official-looking document into Mr.
Traill's hand and took himself away across the bridge, fair satisfied
with his conduct of an affair of subtlety.

It required five minutes for Mr. Traill to take in the import of the
legal form. Then a wrathful explosion vented itself on the unruly key
that persisted in dodging the keyhole. But once within he read the
paper again, put it away thoughtfully in an inner pocket, and outwardly
subsided to his ordinary aspect. He despatched the business of the day
with unusual attention to details and courtesy to guests, and when, in
mid afternoon, the place was empty, he followed Bobby to the kirkyard
and inquired at the lodge if he could see Mr. Brown.

"He isna so ill, noo, Maister Traill, but I wadna adv