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She ran hastily into the house, as though to escape further conversation on a distasteful subject, while Dido, with her eyes on the ground, remained in deep thought. The old negress knew that she was placed in a perilous position, which might be rendered even more so should Isabella speak freely. But of this she had little fear, as by her conversation with Major Jen the girl had gone forward on a path of concealment whence there was now no retreat. Yet Dido was not satisfied. She did not trust those around her, and she was uneasy as to what might be the result of Jen's pertinacity in investigating both the death of Maurice and the disappearance of the body. Thus perplexed it occurred to her to seek out and consult with Dr. Etwald. When he paused, she pondered and finally spoke out. "Can't you guess from his self-accusation? Why, the woman he loved.".

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Evidently it was impossible to extract information from so impenetrable a man. Jen was thoroughly enraged by this display of obstinacy in a quarter where he least expected to find it. Usually sweet-tempered--especially toward his boys--the major quite lost control of his passion at the moment. "Golly, that pretty nearly hits us all, doesn't it?" said Griffin apprehensively. "I'm not so sure about myself, now you mention it. Doris Leighton may be one ahead of me in this business. Fatty degeneration of the soul is a new one to me." "I should have wrung the truth from the villain to-day," thought Jen, as he paced the room. "But to-morrow! To-morrow! He shan't leave this house until he confesses what he has done with the remains of my poor boy. Ghoul that he is, wretch and scoundrel." "I wish to hold no conversation with a scoundrel, sir," cried Jen, purple with rage. "Follow the example of Mrs. Dallas, if you please.".