“Or so much French history?” added that serpent, Travers. “Shall I command ‘im to jump, or reverse ‘imself?” inquired the obliging Frenchman. “We’ve seen that, thank you,” said the colonel, gloomily. “Upon my word, I don’t know what to think. It can’t be that that’s not my Bingo after all--I’ll never believe it!” I tried a last desperate stroke. “Will you come round to the front?” I said to the Frenchman. “I’ll let you in, and we can discuss the matter quietly.” Then, as we walked back together, I asked him eagerly what he would take to abandon his claims and let the colonel think the poodle was his after all. He was furious--he considered himself insulted; with great emotion he informed me that the dog was the pride of his life (it seems to be the mission of black poodles to serve as domestic comforts of this priceless kind!), that he would not part with him for twice his weight in gold. “Figure,” he began, as we joined the others, “zat zis gentilman ‘ere ‘as offer me money for ze dog! He agrees zat it is to me, you see? Ver’ well, zen, zere is no more to be said!” “Why, Weatherhead, have _you_ lost faith too, then?” said the colonel. I saw it was no good; all I wanted now was to get out of it creditably and get rid of the Frenchman. “I’m sorry to say,” I replied, “that I’m afraid I’ve been deceived by the extraordinary likeness. I don’t think, on reflection, that that _is_ Bingo!” “What do you think, Travers?” asked the colonel. “Well, since you ask me,” said Travers, with quite unnecessary dryness, “I never did think so.” “Nor I,” said the colonel; “I thought from the first that was never my Bingo. Why, Bingo would make two of that beast!” And Lilian and her aunt both protested that they had had their doubts from the first. “Zen you pairmeet zat I remove ‘im?” said the Frenchman. “Certainly,” said the colonel; and, after some apologies on our part for the mistake, he went off in triumph, with the detestable poodle frisking after him. When he had gone the colonel laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. “Don’t look so cut up about it, my boy,” he said; “you did your best--there was a sort of likeness to any one who didn’t know Bingo as we did.” Just then the Frenchman again appeared at the hedge. “A thousand pardons,” he said, “but I find zis upon my dog; it is not to me. Suffer me to restore it viz many compliments.” It was Bingo’s collar. Travers took it from his hand and brought it to us. “This was on the dog when you stopped that fellow, didn’t you say?” he asked me. One more lie--and I was so weary of falsehood! “Y-yes,” I said, reluctantly; “that was so.” “Very extraordinary,” said Travers; “that’s the wrong poodle beyond a doubt, but when he’s found he’s wearing the right dog’s collar! Now how do you account for that?” “My good fellow,” I said, impatiently, “I’m not in the witness-box. I _can’t_ account for it. It-it’s a mere coincidence!”