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"They killed Maurice!" "I can't answer that question either," said the doctor, taking up his hat. "A detective may be able to assist you on those points. Engage one." Patricia gave a gasp. "But he wore a turban and great whiskers!" she said, impulsively. "How in the world could you stand that?".

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The hours dragged heavily along in that house of mourning. The body of the dead man lay in the little chamber which looked out upon the laurel-encircled lawn. It was covered with a white sheet, the hands were folded upon the breast, and flowers had been laid thereon by the major. Over the face a handkerchief had been thrown, as the once handsome features were so discolored as to be absolutely repulsive to the sight. There was something terrible in the rigidity of the long form, stretched out so stiffly under the sheet. In the chamber candles were burning, and Jaggard was watching near the corpse. He was to watch throughout the night. "I can't tell, nor can anybody else. All we know is that at three o'clock in the morning we entered Mr. Maurice's room and found the window open, the body gone, and you insensible." "If I can force the truth out of Dido," thought Jen, strolling slowly along in the hot sunshine, "I may get the better of Etwald. Then, when David sees that the doctor is in the trap, and in danger of arrest for murder, he may relate what he knows. Though upon my word," considered the major, frowning, "I don't see what information he can possibly add to what I have obtained from Jaggard, or what I am likely to wring from the unwilling lips of Dido. Etwald is the guilty person. David can tell me no more than that." She came to the doorway with her hat and furs still on and repeated the question. Griffin gave her a synopsis of the row and the casualties following, which she received with a little protesting laugh..