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"I'm not joking," I said jerkily; "I am lonely. And worse than being lonely, I'm scared. I ought to have stayed just the quiet relict of Mr. Carter and gone out with Aunt Adeline and let myself be fat and respectable; but I haven't got the character. You thought I went to town to buy a monument, and I didn't; I bought enough clothes for two brides, and now I'm too scared to wear 'em, and I don't know what you'll think when you see my bankbook. Everybody is talking about me and that dinner-party Tuesday night, and Aunt Adeline says she can't live in a house of mourning so desecrated any longer; she's going back to the cottage. Aunt Bettie Pollard says that if I want to get married I ought to marry Mr. Wilson Graves because of his seven children, and then everybody would be so relieved that they are taken care of, that they would forget that Mr. Carter hasn't been dead quite five years yet. Mrs. Johnson says I ought to be declared a minor and put as a ward under you. I can't help judge Wade's sending me flowers and Tom's walking over my front steps every day. I'm not strong enough to carry him away and drown him. I am perfectly miserable and I'm——" Patricia sighed contentedly. "How nice you all are!" she said appreciatively. "I thought you'd all be disgusted with me if I quit. After Mr. Grantly said that study of Ju showed promise, I nearly wore myself to a bone trying to make good. I've been scared stiff about it." In brief, her evidence was as follows: "I am a full-blooded negress, born in Barbadoes. My grandmother came from 'Ashantee,' and knew all about the wand of sleep. She taught me how to manufacture the poison. I came to England with my mistress and met with prisoner, who called at the house. He knew a great deal about Obi and showed me the Voodoo stone. A spirit dances in the stone, and I was bound to do what the spirit told me. It said I was to obey prisoner. Dr. Etwald wanted to marry my young mistress, but she was engaged to Mr. Alymer. Prisoner told me that Mr. Alymer must be got out of the way, and suggested the use of the devil-stick, which he had seen in the smoking-room of Major Jen. I agreed to help him, and by hypnotizing my mistress I made her steal the devil-stick. She brought it to me, all unconscious of having done so, and I filled it with fresh poison. On the night of the murder Mr. Alymer called to see my mistress, also Dr. Etwald. When Mr. Alymer left I gave the stick to prisoner, and he followed deceased to kill him. Next day I heard that Mr. Alymer was dead. After a time prisoner told me that we must steal the body, so that traces of poison should not be found when a post-mortem examination was made. I agreed to help him, and gaining admission into the chamber of death I hid under the bed. When Jaggard fell asleep I drugged him with the poison of the devil-stick and opened the window, outside of which prisoner was waiting. I assisted him to carry the body to his carriage, and then left him. That is all I know.".

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The brow of Sarby grew black, and in his turn he rose to his feet. "I've taken a studio apartment, and I've got someone to keep house—just for a month—and I'm banking on you all coming to spend that month with me. I want you to have this chance at some outside work," he said to Elinor. "I'm not so keen on this academic work for a steady job. I want you to keep up your life class, of course, but there's a big lot of education lying around in the studios for this short time anyway. I may not be able to offer it to you again, as I'll have to be off as soon as this contract is finished. Will you come?" He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality. "The groun's, near the gate.".