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"It would seem so from this veracious history the major is telling us, said Etwald, with irony. "Good, Then between twelve and three the body must have been stolen. You are a light sleeper, I heard you say, major?" "Oh, Bruce, the sycamore you painted is gone!" called Patricia, not turning. "Come and see!".

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"I got my criticism! And he said the work was good! Now I can write to Bruce," and her voice rang with a thrilling note of joy that carried Patricia with her. But she was too late, for, before she could escape from the room, Dr. Etwald--as smiling and composed as ever--entered the door. He placed himself quietly before the enraged Mrs. Dallas. "De--de--dead--dead!" she stammered, shrinking back. But there was one visitor to The Wigwam whom Isabella would gladly have avoided--no less an individual than Dr. Etwald. After the violent scene with Maurice, the widow so overtaxed her strength that she became ill, and the doctor was sent for. His mere presence appeared to soothe Mrs. Dallas, and he came frequently. When she could, Isabella absented herself; but this she was not able to do on all occasions, and so she had to endure his complimentary speeches, and the mesmeric quality of his gaze. This last, especially, was a trial to one of her sensitive organization, and one day she felt so uncomfortable that she remonstrated with Etwald..