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"You!" I exclaimed, crowding still closer, or at least trying to. "It's not you; it's I that am killed, and you did it! I know you don't really want me, but I can't help that. I'd rather you do the suffering with me than to do it myself away from you. I'm so hungry and thirsty for you that—that I can't diet any longer!". I put the case the strongest way I knew how. So far the reader may wonder at the constituent elements of this story. African witchcraft, mysterious strangers, and barbaric women seem to be out of place when set in the sober framework of an English provincial town. But romance is not dependent upon landscape or on surroundings for its occurrence: it is to be found everywhere, and very often in the most unlikely places. Here, for instance, by some trick of Fate, certain people had come together, certain passions had been aroused, and now that the drama had been set in motion, it seemed likely that it would play itself out to a tragical conclusion. Tragical, certainly; for herein the elements of comedy seem to be wanting. But then Fate is so pessimistic. "My lord and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence of the crown, which makes out that my client is guilty. That evidence is wrong, as can be proved by one witness. I am the witness. In my rooms there is lying a confession, signed and witnessed, which sets forth that I am the guilty person. It was I, not Dr. Etwald, who murdered Maurice Alymer." (Sensation in the court.) "Yes. I was in love with Miss Dallas, and therefore was jealous of Maurice. I knew that Dido possessed the devil-stick--how, it does not matter--and I bribed her to give it to me. I pretended to go to London on the night of the murder, but instead of doing so I remained in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, where I obtained the devil-stick from Dido. I saw Maurice meet with Miss Dallas. I saw them kiss and part. Inflamed by jealousy, I rushed after him and met him on the road. He turned in surprise, and flung out his arms to keep me off. The devil-stick, with its poison fang protruding, was in my grasp, and in throwing out his arm I wounded him in the palm of the hand, thus--".

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"What was it like?" eagerly demanded Patricia. "It doesn't matter now, you know, if you tell. We won't tell, and it's too late, anyway, to make any difference." "No, not Dr. Etwald, but the person who stole the devil-stick." "Not yet. Dido," he said, in a cold voice. "It is true that I called to see your mistress; but I wish to speak to you also." "She was agitated, my dear young lady, and I have calmed that agitation.".