He thought of his old friend's deathbed, of the trust that had there been confided to him.
Had he been unfaithful to that trust?
With the impatience of sharp pain, he called the dog again to the door of the house, and again from that starting-point tried to make him seek the missing one.

He did this, not because he had much hope in the dog now, but because he had no other hope.
This time the dog stood by, sobered by his master's soberness, but looking with teasing expectancy, ready to do whatever was required if he might only know what that was.

To Bates, who was only anxious to act at the dumb thing's direction, this expectancy was galling.

He tore off a part of the dress and fastened it to the dog's collar.

He commanded him to carry it to her in such excited tones that the old woman heard, and fumbled her way out of the door to see what was going on.