It was gone. I had felt it there the last
thing before I fell asleep. One of the tramp lodgers had cut the
string and stolen it. With angry tears I went up and complained
to the sergeant that I had been robbed. He scowled at me over the
blotter, called me a thief, and said that he had a good mind to
lock me up. How should I, a tramp boy, have come by a gold locket?
He had heard, he added, that I had said in the lodging-room that
I wished the French would win, and he would only be giving me what
I deserved if he sent me to the Island. I heard and understood.
He was himself a German. All my sufferings rose up before me, all
the bitterness of my soul poured itself out upon him. I do not know
what I said. I remember that he told the doorman to put me out. And
he seized me and threw me out of the door, coming after to kick me
down the stoop.
My dog had been waiting, never taking its eyes off the door, until
I should come out. When it saw me in the grasp of the doorman, it
fell upon him at once, fastening its teeth in his leg. He let go of
me with a yell of pain, seized the poor little beast by the legs,
and beat its brains out against the stone steps.
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