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Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly. "Bah! you black parrot!" muttered Maurice scornfully and turned upon his heel. As he vanished down the walk Dido clapped her hands together with great satisfaction and began to sing in low tones. Her song was barbaric in words and strange beyond all telling in the music. It rose and fell, and moaned and drawled, in a curiously painful manner. In the drawing-room Mrs. Dallas had risen to her feet at the first deep contralto note, and now stood rocking herself to and fro with an expression of alarm on her face. Isabella was terrified in her turn by Dido's song and her mother's strange conduct, though by this time she should have been used to these eccentricities. "Do be still, Miss Pat," she said sedately. "We've waited two whole days already—five minutes more won't hurt us.".

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"Then whom do you suspect?" asked Etwald, fixing his dark eyes on the major. "See here!" said Jen, pressing or rather squeezing the handle. "I tighten my grip upon this, and the sting of the serpent shows itself!" Whereupon Etwald glanced at the end of the wood and saw a tiny needle of iron push itself out. When Jen relaxed his pressure on the gold handle, this iron tongue slipped back and disappeared entirely. "Well, Arkel," said Jen, after the first greetings were over, "have you any clew?" "Dido!".