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"The devil-stick!" gasped Jen, pointing a shaking finger at the wall. "The devil-stick!" "I make de spell. I know. De spell say dat doctor, he marry you!" The girl was about twenty years of age, tall and straight, with dark hair and darker eyes, with a mouth veritably like Cupid's bow, and a figure matchless in contour. With her rich southern coloring and passionate temperament--she was of Irish blood on the paternal side--Miss Dallas looked more like an Andalusian lady than a native of the English-speaking race. She had all the sensuous loveliness of a Creole woman; and bloomed like a rich tropical flower with poison in its perfume amid the English briar roses of Surrey maidenhood..

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"You're a darling," said Patricia, "and the Lord must be terribly fond of you." Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly. Yet Jen knew what he was about, and he was acting merely in accordance with an agreement he had made with Sarby. After that memorable interview in the library, when Etwald was accused and arrested, Arkel took away his prisoner in custody by virtue of the warrant, and left Major Jen alone with the counsel for the defense. The assassin--so-called--and Inspector Arkel left the room; they left the house. When the sound of Etwald's carriage--for he went to Deanminster jail in his own brougham--had died away in the distance, Jen, who had hitherto kept silence, raised his head and looked at David. "Resurrectionists!" suggested Arkel; whereupon Major Jen shuddered..