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"Who's talking about me?" demanded Judith's high treble, and they turned to see her in the doorway, silhouetted against the brilliantly lighted hall. Patricia had an uneasy sense of insincerity in the light tone, but a swift glance into the wide eyes of the smiling Doris reassured her. Having dismissed Battersea, the negress turned to seek Isabella. She was so devoted to her nursling that she could hardly bear to be away from her, and since her infancy Isabella had scarcely been absent an hour from her strange attendant. The girl had gone into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Dallas was still sleeping; and there, relieved for the moment from the prying eyes of the negress, she took a letter out of her pocket. It was from Maurice, stating that he was coming to see her that afternoon at three o'clock, as he had something particular to say..

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This remark put the matter beyond all doubt. The girl, by her own admission, had been hypnotized by the negress, and, while in the trance state, with her will at the mercy of the other woman, she had killed her lover. Morally speaking, it was Dido, in the person of Isabella, who was the assassin. However, the major had learned all that he wished to know, and not wishing to pursue the subject, turned the conversation by explaining that Etwald was coming in a few minutes. Mrs. Dallas rose up in a cold fury. "I'll choose the song," she announced, gayly. "I've heard a lot of howling already this evening." And after that everybody had a good time, Jane and her nephew as much as anybody, and I could see Aunt Bettie and Mrs. Johnson peeping in the pantry door, having the time of their lives, too. "Do you know, Miss Pat," said Elinor, breaking a long silence "that I don't like Doris Leighton any more. It isn't because she got the prize—you know me better than to think that—but I've been noticing her more closely recently and I don't think she rings true.".