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Patricia sighed and stirred restlessly. "Isn't that like life?" she commented, her face clearing as the thought took hold on her. "We're all hankering after something that we haven't got—or we think we are. Maybe—maybe we'd not like the other thing any better if we did get it, though one's own things always seem awfully commonplace, don't they?" "I'm sure I don't know what I'll do with Isabella," sighed Mrs. Dallas; "she is getting so disobedient." "I say, you needn't rub it in that Tom and I are greenhorns," he said, grinning. "Don't forget that once you were quite as unaccustomed to all this magnificence as we are now.".

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"Am I unjust in my hatred of you?" demanded Jen, getting on his feet. "I think not. Dr. Etwald. Your desire to marry Isabella, or rather her fortune, has been the cause of all these ills. Dido was only your instrument, whom you compelled to work by means of the Voodoo stone. That she betrayed you in the end was your punishment. I do not blame her so much as I do you. You alone are responsible for the death of those two poor lads of mine." This long conversation had somewhat exhausted Jaggard, who was yet weak, so, telling him to cease from talking, Jen recalled the housemaid, and left the room to think over all that he had learned. The story of Jaggard convinced him more than ever that Dr. Etwald was the cause of all the terrible events which had occurred within the last few weeks. Without doubt it was he who had treacherously hidden Dido in the chamber of death. After drugging Jaggard, the negress no doubt had opened the window to admit Etwald, and between them this precious pair had carried off the dead body. But for what reason? This Jen could not determine. "I know--I know! But I don't want her to marry you, doctor. Mr. Sarby is the man for my daughter. He is good-looking and clever and--" "I am glad to hear it is only 'admire,'" he remarked, slowly, "for had the word been any other I should have resented it.".