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Patricia was about to make a comment when she suddenly turned and came back to them. "I shall return good for evil, and tell you that I have regained possession of the Voodoo stone. Dido is dead; killed by her own excitement at an Obi orgie. I am now the King of the Black Race throughout the world, by possession of the stone, but to you I shall remain, for the last time, my dear major, Max Etwald." "Oh, Miss Pat!" she cried in an ecstasy. "I've made good, and I can write to Bruce and tell him!".

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"Molly," he asked, this time with a heaven-laugh, "where could you be more effectually hid from Alfred Bennett than in my arms?" "Stuff!" protested Patricia stoutly. "You know you've been simply crazy to get here. Why spoil it all by squibbling? I think it's perfectly gorgeous. I'm wild to begin myself, and I'm about as green as any old shamrock. Besides, it's a mighty poor way to show your gratitude to Bruce for putting you right slap into the highest classes without slaving your life out for years, perhaps. I'll tell him——" I understand now why Judge Wade has had so many women martyr themselves over him and live unhappily ever afterward, as everybody says Henrietta Mason is doing. He's a very inspiring man, and he fairly bristles with fascinations. Some men are what you call taking, and they take you if they want you, while others are drawing, and after you are drawn to them they will consider the question of taking you. The judge is like that. It was a melancholy procession which bore the body up to the house. Four men carried the bier--for it was nothing else since it bore the dead body of a young man--and behind came Major Jen bowed to the ground with sorrow. He could hardly believe that Maurice was dead--that he had perished upon a lonely country road by an unknown hand. But that was the question! Jen began to think the assassin was not unknown; that he had a clew to find the guilty one; and he waited the coming of Dr. Etwald with great impatience to see what his opinion was regarding the course to be pursued..