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Evidence--in brief--of Major Jen: "I was the guardian of the deceased Maurice Alymer. I adopted him as my son. He was in love with, and engaged to, Miss Dallas, but the mother did not approve of the engagement. Dr. Etwald, the prisoner, also loved Miss Dallas, but she refused to marry him. I showed the prisoner the devil-stick and explained its use, whereupon he wished to purchase it. I declined to part with it, and afterward it was stolen. After its disappearance, Mr. Alymer was killed by means of the devil-stick poison. His hand was but slightly scratched, and he could not have died from so trivial a cause had not the weapon used been poisoned. Moreover, I recognized the perfume which emanated from the body as that of the devil-stick poison. Dr. Etwald had threatened the deceased once or twice. Afterward the body of deceased disappeared, and the drug used to stupefy the watcher of the dead was the poison of the devil-stick." "She couldn't," grinned Griffin. "That's the point. She's so taken up with her pose as suffering martyr that she overlooks a trifle like good work. Heavens, there's the gong! I've kept you here gassing when I know you're crazy to get to work. Come along in, and I'll help you set up your stand before the model poses again." "Literary grandmother!" exclaimed Patricia scornfully. "She's a conceited chicken that thinks she's a nightingale because she can peep louder than some. Wait till you've had some of your stuff printed, Judy, before you boast. Anyone can scribble——".
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Conrad
Patricia stamped her foot in vexation. "What do you mean?" she cried. "You're the most exasperating——" "We'll be along in a little while," replied Patricia easily. "Save a seat for us if you can." He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality. "The fact is David has not been quite himself since this trouble about Isabella," he said, gravely, "and he thinks it best to go away for a time. You know how he tortures himself over trifles.".
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