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Miss Jinny chuckled huskily. "Don't you worry about that," she said, mysteriously. "It ain't my health. It's something I didn't want to write on paper," and she tapped her upper lip suggestively. "In a state of high fever, poor soul," said Jen, with a depressed look. "He does nothing but rave. Yet, in all his wild talk he never lets slip a single word likely to help us." "Poor thing, she's done it at last!" cried Patricia compassionately. "Then what happened?".
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Patricia retreated to the tree, and Doris stood with one hand clutching the cloak and the light strong on her face. She looked more beautiful than ever to Patricia's friendly eyes, and there was a calm strength in her manner that awed while it comforted her. All consciousness of herself was gone, and, Patricia felt, gone forever, and in its place a quiet courage that spoke of conquered pride and vanity and selfishness. Doris Leighton had found herself. "But with regard to Maurice?" "Yes. I heard the poor lad's cry," said Jen, simply, "and I ran down at once. You must have been very quick in your movements." "All those came from Ashantee and the West Coast of Africa," said he, touching a vicious-looking axe. "This is a sacrificial axe; this murderous looking blade is the sword of the executioner of King Koffee; and this," here he laid his fingers lightly upon a slender stick of green wood, with a golden top set roughly with large turquoise stones, "is a poison-wand!".
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