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Etwald came immediately from Deanminster in company with Arkel, whom this last extraordinary event took entirely by surprise. He questioned Sampson--the young policeman left in charge--he searched the chamber of death, stepped out of the window and across the lawn toward the belt of laurels which divided the lawn from a winding and tortuous lane. This, a tenebrous pathway even in the noonday, slipped eel-like through darkling trees to emerge into the high road a quarter of a mile away. Arkel was so long absent that Jen could only surmise that he had gone into this outward darkness, and on the inspector's return it appeared that the major was right in his conjecture. Furthermore Arkel brought back certain news. This discovery at once irritated, amazed and perplexed the major. That the handkerchief of Mrs. Dallas should be bound around the head of Jaggard was strange, but that it should be perfumed with the deadly scent which impregnated the devil-stick was stranger still. Had Mrs. Dallas found the wand of sleep? Had Mrs. Dallas perfumed the handkerchief with its cruel poison? Had Mrs. Dallas drugged or stupefied Jaggard on that fatal night by means of that saturated handkerchief? These were the vital questions which presented themselves to the puzzled major, and which he found himself unable to answer. "Well, be that as it may, they are the blessed members of the women tribe," she answered, looking at me sharply. "Now I have often told Mr. Johnson——" but here we were interrupted in what might have been the rehearsal of a glorious scrap by the appearance of Aunt Bettie Pollard, and with her came a long, tall, lovely vision of a woman in the most wonderful close clingy dress and hat that you wanted to eat the minute you saw it. I hated her instantly with the most intense adoration that made me want to lie down at her feet, and also made me feel as though I had gained all the more than twenty pounds that I have slaved off me and doubled them on again. I would have liked to lead her that minute into Dr. John's office and just to have looked at him and said one word—"Scarlet-runner!" Aunt Betty introduced her as Miss Clinton from London..

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"Not a bit," answered Dr. John in his big comforting voice. "Judy likes to see herself go by in the mirror," smiled Elinor leniently. "I suppose that's the literary mind." Griffin chuckled. "It's fame that tames them, mark my words. Soon's they get known they grow into a pattern. Ready now. Let her r-r-r-rip!" Surely no woman ever in all the world read such a letter as that, and no wonder my breath almost failed me. It was a love-letter in which the cold paper was turned into a heart that beat against mine, and I bowed my head over it as I wetted it with tears. I knew then that I had taken his coming back lightly; had fussed over it and been silly-proud of it; while not really caring at all. All that awful reducing my waist measure seemed just a lack of confidence in his love for me; he wouldn't have minded if I weighed five hundred pounds, I felt sure. He loved me—really, really, really; and I had sat and weighed him with a lot of men who were nothing more than amused by my chatter, or taken with my beauty, and who wouldn't have known such love if it were shown to them through a telescope..