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"My word!" breathed Patricia, stirred and chilled in spite of herself. "They're doing it brown this time!" "Yes; like a street arab. He was one, once, you know, major, and has not forgotten his early habits. Well, he was driven with the carriage to Deanminster." "No; but she supplied the means to the man who did.".
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Conrad
Elinor thanked her cordially, while Patricia almost dislocated her neck trying to get a glimpse of the big canvas that protruded from the locker while still keeping far enough behind Elinor for her curiosity to pass unnoticed. He interrupted her with an upheld hand. "But there must be," insisted Etwald, cruelly. "Alymer died of poison, and it must be proved that such was the case. Then we may learn if he perished from the poison of the devil-stick. Afterward you must get a detective to search for the person who stole it from your smoking-room. Once he or she is found, and the assassin of your poor friend will be in custody." "Oh, Patricia!" she cried in Patricia's ear, but the words died into the tempest..
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