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"Why not?" said Etwald, coolly. "Mrs. Dallas had no reason to steal the devil-stick, yet--" Miss Jinny, who was still enshrouded save for the torn veil, gave the last pat to Patricia's gauzes, and handed the pink silk cloak to the admiring maid, before she spoke. Then she looked Patricia over thoroughly and gave her husky chuckle. "But how do you know it isn't David's?" persisted Judith, as she gathered up her letters. "We never asked David when his birthday came, did we?".
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Patricia stamped her foot in vexation. "What do you mean?" she cried. "You're the most exasperating——" "Don't speak to me, you scoundrel, until you tell me what you have done with the body of my boy." "Pooh, I'm not a bit tired," protested Judith. "I sit this way every night for hours." "Well," said Jen, seeing that the man spoke in all good faith, "the body of Mr. Maurice was stolen on that night.".
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