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Patricia halted by the chair at a side table where her name card lay. Her eyes were fastened on Judith with a peculiarly penetrating gaze, and her firm grasp detained the arm that would have escaped.,

The chorus swelled, with Griffin's thrilling treble soaring high and clear:,

The rooms on the right of the studio, a small one with a double bed in it for Miss Jinny and her mother, and the enormous room with the three beds for the girls, were separated by a tiled bath and were quite remote from the rooms on the other side, where was a corresponding small room to be used for a sitting-room, and a slightly larger one for Bruce. Altogether, the arrangement was as satisfactory as could be wished and everyone was enthusiastic over the many comforts and conveniences that the place boasted.,

When the major had seen her carriage drive away he returned to look after the devil-stick, and examined it long and carefully. Undoubtedly it had been filled with fresh poison, and undoubtedly the poison, from the evidence heretofore set forth, had been prepared by Dido. Jen was more certain than ever that Etwald and the negress had stolen the devil-stick and had slain Maurice with it. But the theft of the body! It was that which puzzled him. He could understand why Etwald wanted Maurice removed from his path. He could explain, on those grounds, why the devil-stick had been stolen. But what reason could the pair have for the removal of the body? The poor boy had died, and his corpse could be of no use to those who had murdered him. Yet it had disappeared, and the only person who could give any evidence as to who had entered the room on that fatal night was Jaggard. But up to the present moment Jaggard had remained incapable of giving any clear evidence. Absolutely certain that Etwald was guilty, that Dido was an accomplice, Jen could not see his way to proving his case without the assistance of Jaggard.

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Major Jen shook it in his usual kindly manner, and moved a step toward the door of the summer-house. All at once he paused and looked back.,

"Yes, Mr. Alymer," replied Etwald, deliberately, "it reminds me of a man who died.",

He must have been as pale as I was, and for an eternity of a second he looked at me, then suddenly heaven shone from his eyes and he opened his arms to me with just one word.,

"Oh, Bruce, the sycamore you painted is gone!" called Patricia, not turning. "Come and see!"