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"No, sir. I've only got my wits about me now." This time Isabella burst out into a girlish laugh of genuine amusement. In spite of all his conjecturing, the major found himself unable to answer this question. Therefore, like a wise man, he possessed himself in patience until the next morning. Most of the night he passed in the room where poor David was laid out, for he was determined that this time the body should not be stolen. As he pondered during the long and silent hours, he reflected that he had lost the opportunity of forcing Dr. Etwald to say what he had done with the body of Maurice. It had not been found in his house, and, notwithstanding all questioning, Etwald--with his changeless smile--had refused to state where it was..
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Toward the morning Jen slept for an hour or so, and when he rose and had taken his bath he felt much refreshed, and ready to face Etwald at this final interview. At eleven o'clock Mrs. Dallas arrived with Isabella, the latter looking wan and ill. Even had the major not promised to be silent, he could not have brought himself to tell the poor girl the truth at that moment. After all, she was perfectly innocent, and had committed the crime unwittingly. Dido was the culprit, not Isabella; and the major felt a profound pity for the miserable girl, who had been made a tool of by the unscrupulous negress and the evil-minded Etwald. "Wake up, old lady," cried Patricia. "There's the gong, and we must fly." What brought me to consciousness was his fumbling with the lace on that blue muslin relict of a sentiment. The lace had got caught on his sleeve buttons. "How splendid!" said Patricia, glowing. "To think that we'll meet them here in town after all. Are they going to Rockham this summer?".
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