light forgotten objects. The last to be
placed directly under the lid was the entirely scarlet cravat. He was
equal to wearing it now, but a sense of the morrow's proprieties
deterred him. The stricken mother! In deference to her he laid out for
the morning's wear the nearest to a black cravat that he possessed, an
article surely unassuming enough to be no offence in a house of
mourning.

He fastened the straps of the trunk and sighed in relief. It was a
steamer trunk, and he was to sail on a little old steamer, but other
people had survived that ordeal. Ram-tah would have met it boldly.
Ram-tah!

He stood in the doorway, his attention attracted to Nap, who had for
some moments been more than usually vocal. In a far corner Nap had a
roundish object between his paws and his sharp teeth tore viciously at
it. He looked up and growled in fierce pretence that his master also
wished to gnaw this delectable object.

A moment Bean stood there, looking, looking. Slowly certain details
cleared to his vision: the details of an unspeakable atrocity. He felt
his knees grow weak, and clutched at the doorway for support.

The body of Ram-tah was out of its case and half across the room, yards
of the swathed linen unfurled; but, more terrible than all, the head of
Ram-tah was not where it should have been.

In the far corner the crouching Nap gnawed at that head, tearing,
mutilating, desecrating.

"Napoleon!" It was a cry of little volume, but tense and terrible.
Napoleon, destroyer of kings! In this moment he once more put the
creature's full name upon him. The dog found the name alarming;
perceived that he had committed some one of those offences for which he
was arbitrarily punished. He relaxed the stout jaws, crawled slinkingly
to the couch, and leaped upon it. Once there, he whimpered protestingly.
One of the few clear beliefs he had about a perplexing social system was
that nothing hurtful could befall him once he had gained that couch. It
was sanctuary.

Bean's next emotion was sympathy for the dog's fright. He tottered
across to the couch, mumbling little phrases of reassurance to the
abject Nap. He sat down beside him, and put a kindly arm about him.

"Why, why, Nappy! Yes, 'sall right, yes, he _was_--most beautiful doggie
in the whole world; yes, he _was_."

He hardly dared look toward the scene of the outrage. The calamity was
overwhelming, but how could dogs know any better? Timidly, at length, he
raised his eye