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Patricia was forced to give in gracefully. "I know you'll be splendid," she declared with rather forced heartiness. "I wish we were as well fixed for our parts." "I should think so," said Etwald, coldly. "You saw how David fell in court, after wounding his hand. I fell in prison quite as quickly, but as my skin was not scratched, and the drug took effect only through the nostrils, I recovered." Judith merely smiled her superior smile. "I know more about Miss Doris Leighton than you think," she said, nonchalantly. "Her little sister is in my class at school, and I just got acquainted with her yesterday.".

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"But what are you talking of?" broke in Jen, impetuously. "You say that my poor boy died from blood-poisoning. How else could he have come by that, save through being touched or struck with the devil-stick? No one in the neighborhood was likely to possess any weapon likely to corrupt the blood. If Maurice had been stabbed, or shot, or if his head had been smashed in, I could understand the crime--or rather the motive for the crime--better; but as it is, the person who stole the devil-stick must have killed him." "Oh, stop teasing, Miss Pat," cried Judith, wriggling free. "I wouldn't be an actress if you'd hire me. I'm going to be a writer, and now I'm going to bed. Good-night," and she made a flying leap into her pillows and covered herself to the eyes. "Don't say another word to me tonight," she warned, "or I'll call Miss Jinny. I'm going to sleep." Some days are like the miracle flowers that open in the garden from plants you didn't expect to bloom at all. I might have been born, lived and died without having this one come into my life, and now that I have had it I don't know how to write it, except in the crimson of blood, the blue of flame, the gold of glory—and a tinge of light green would well express the part I have played. But it is all over at last and—— "Isabella killed Maurice!" said Jen, pushing back his chair. "Impossible, doctor. You must be mistaken.".