ith a cry of
satisfaction, the K.C. sprang at him. "Now I have you, you young
villain," he shouted, and without more ado he posed the frightened and
dazed Lucien in an old-fashioned attitude across William's desk, and in
a manner that bespoke some knowledge, proceeded to thrash him.

Lucien was screaming, "It wasn't me--it wasn't me," when Whimple
entered the office, also on the run, flung aside the perspiring
K.C., righted Lucien, whom, on his entrance, he had thought
was William, and demanded angrily the meaning of the disturbance.
The K.C. wrathfully explained from his point of view; Lucien
tearfully, but firmly, declared that he was in no way
responsible. "William--brought--the--dog--here," he sobbed,
"and--he--threw--the--water out of the window." There were cries for
"William," but no William responded, and all the time the dog, hanging
on to the captured piece of coat tail, surveyed the scene in calm
silence.

Whimple and the K.C., after some further parleying, essayed the task of
releasing the dog and allowing the K.C.'s friend to leave Whimple's
room. But they found themselves confronting a problem that their legal
training could not solve. For the dog, thinking that they wanted his
trophy, laid the piece of coat tail on the floor, placed thereon one
paw, and bared his teeth for fight. Both men were angry; both men were
puzzled. Each urged the other to action, and each held the other
inferentially to be lacking in courage.

It was Lucien who suggested a way out. "If the gentleman in Mr.
Whimple's room would get on the table from the back and cut the string,
the dog would run away, I'm sure."

The plan was adopted, Whimple, Lucien, and the K.C. having first taken
a strategic position in the corridor leading to the rooms of Simmons,
the architect. The string was cut, and the bulldog, having again taken
the piece of coat tail between his teeth, walked slowly out of the
office and down the stairs to the street. William saw him emerge, and
ran across the road. The dog greeted him in a friendly manner, and
William, taking the now shortened string, started for Briscombe's
residence, for, said he to the dog, "It looks to me like there's been
some trouble, and I guess I'd better not go back to the office until
the morning."

And Briscombe, the banker, gave William two dollars for bringing the
dog home. "But," said he, "where on earth did he get that piece of
cloth?"

"I ain't sure, but I think I coul