XX
"I suppose there is some painless way of putting him to death?"
The voice was Wilkinson's. He was seated on the veranda at Cobblestone, his Morris County place, and opposite to him sat a complacent, side-whiskered M. D. from Morristown. The complacence of the M. D. was due in great measure to the fact that a check reposed in his waistcoat-pocket. It was a goodly check, too; Wilkinson had been ailing, and the bill was heavy.
"I don't want him to suffer at all," went on Wilkinson. "I merely want him to pass away and not feel it."
"Humph! He's of no further use?" returned Dr. Parker Wetherell.
"Tigerskin is twenty years old, nearly blind, and can hardly hobble a step. My dear Wetherell, that horse has won me no end of money on the track! He's been worth his weight in gold! I hate to t
