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"Because it is a dangerous thing to handle. Although the poison is dried up, yet there may be enough in it to kill a man. If I parted with it and anyone was injured by it I should never forgive myself. Pray put it up, Maurice; I dislike to see you touch it. To-night, after dinner, I shall lock it up in a safe place. David is right; it should not be on the wall there." "Why don't you get the Voodoo stone yourself, if you adore it so much?" cried Mrs. Dallas, exasperated by this obstinacy. "I can't give you my reasons. They would take too long to explain. But I believe that out of jealousy he killed Maurice.".

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"Not until after the body had been stolen," returned Jen, mindful that Isabella had come into the library dry-shod. I have always thought that Judge Wade was really the most wonderful man in Hillsboro, not because he is a judge so young in life that there is only a white sprinkle in his lovely black hair that grows back off his head like Napoleon's and Charles Wesley's, but because of his smile, which you wait for so long that you glow all over when you get it. I have seen him do it once or twice at his mother when he seats her in their pew at church, and once at little Mamie Johnson when she gave him a flower through their fence as he passed by one day last week, but I never thought I should have one all to myself. But there it was, a most beautiful one, long and slow and distinctly mine—at least I didn't think much of it was for Billy. I sat up and blushed as red all over as I do when I first hit that tub of cold water. "Tell ole Dido ob de debble-stick." "That is impossible!" he said, positively. "Quite impossible!".