"There oughtn't to be any for you," said Margaret Howes, impulsively laying her hand on Elinor's. "There isn't anything coming to you but plain every-day satisfaction in getting your rights.",
Major Jen sustained the burden of conversation, for Maurice was absent-minded, and David, physiognomically inclined, was silently attempting to read the inscrutable countenance of Etwald. As for this latter, he sat smoking, with his brilliant eyes steadily fixed upon Maurice. The young man felt uneasy under the mesmeric gaze of the doctor, and kept twisting and turning in his seat. Finally he broke out impatiently in the midst of the major's babble, and asked Etwald a direct question.,
He started at the beginning of everything, that is at the beginning of the tuberculosis girl, and I cried over the pages of her as if she had been my own sister. At the tenth page we buried her and took up Alfred, and I must say I saw a new Alfred in the judge's bouquet-strewn appreciation of him, but I didn't want him as bad as I had the day before, when I read his own new and old letters, and cried over his old photographs. I suppose that was the result of some of what the judge manages the juries with. He'd be apt to use it on a woman, and she wouldn't find out about it until it was too late to be anything but mad. Still when he began on me at page sixteen I felt a little better, though I didn't know myself any better than I did Alfred when I got to page twenty.,
"That being the property of Mrs. Dallas, she had lost it there," interrupted Jen, smartly. "No. I told you also that Isabella had confessed to having dropped it at the time of her midnight visit. But now I know that she told me a lie!"
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"Billy's happy days are mine and mine are his, and he has the heart not to leave me out even if you would have him!" I exclaimed, a sob gathering in my heart at the thought that my little lover hadn't even taken in a situation that would separate him from me across an ocean.,
"I don't know," she said, in a stolid tone.,
Dido trembled all over, whether from rage or fear Jen could not determine, and opened her mouth to give the lie to her accuser. Then she shut it again, as a heavy step was heard outside the door. A moment later and Mrs. Dallas, with a face expressive of astonishment, was standing on the threshold of the room; and Dido at her feet was making the room resound like a jungle with howlings like those of a wild beast. All the savage nature of the woman was now on the surface, and had broken through the sullen restraint of her impassive demeanor. "What is the meaning of this?" demanded Mrs. Dallas, with an uneasy glance at the frantic negress.,
Major Jen chuckled and rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. Etwald bent his sombre looks on Maurice, and that young man, biting his lip, took up the implied challenge in Sarby's remark, and answered plainly:
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"Do get on, Miss Pat," urged Judith, folding her napkin. "I've got to get to school sometime this morning, you know."
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With the utmost coolness he entered the room and sat down in a chair near Arkel. The inspector, with his hand in his breast-pocket, fingered the warrant, but did not deem it wise to execute it until he had heard what proof the major possessed against Etwald for the murder of Maurice Alymer. David sat down near the door, and followed every movement of the scene which ensued with keen eyes. Thus, three of the occupants of the room were seated--Sarby, Arkel, and Etwald. Only one man stood up--Major Jen--and he stood as the accuser.
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She knew very well what it was, for her grandmother had been carried off as a slave from the west coast of Africa, and knew all about Ashantee sorcery and fetish rites. These she had repeated to her granddaughter Dido, with the result that Dido, cherishing these recollections, knew exactly how to use the wand of sleep. She had spoken about it to Dr. Etwald, quite ignorant that Jen kept one as a curiosity, and now Etwald had intimated through Battersea that he wished her to do something in connection with the stick. What that something might be Dido at the present moment could not guess.
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>"Why, because they're the very nicest things in the world, of course," she replied spiritedly. "I love to get new ones and see how they work. It's such fun. Like archery practice, when you hit the bull's eye. Only words are somehow different, too. They sort of taste when you say them—sometimes sweet and sometimes tingly and queer, like the Amorites and Hittites," and she giggled at the memory.
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