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Another light was let in on Jen's mind. Here was the handkerchief again--perfumed with the devil-stick decoction of poison by Dido, applied by the hand of Etwald, and its design was evidently to keep Jaggard in a state of stupor and prevent him from, making dangerous disclosures. Dido and Etwald once more in partnership. Jen was more convinced than ever that the pair were at the bottom of the whole terrible affair.,

"Yes, within the gates," responded Etwald. "When Isabella had struck the blow she dropped the devil-stick in the grass, where, if you remember, it was afterward found by Battersea. Then she returned to the house by the little path which leads thereto through the surrounding trees. The body lay in the bright moonlight, full in the center of the path, not a stonethrow from the high road. David and I rushed simultaneously from our hiding-places, and I explained hurriedly that the body must not be found in the grounds. He understood, and we carried the body onto the road. Before we had time to deliberate what was to be done we heard the noise of approaching footsteps, and afraid--both of us--of being accused of the crime, we fled. Then you came down the road and discovered the corpse.",

By this time I was in such a solution of grief that I would soon have had to be sopped up with a sponge if Pet hadn't run in all bubbling over. Happiness has a habit of not even acknowledging the presence of grief, and Pet didn't seem to see our red noses, crushed draperies and generally damp atmosphere.,

"But you know Mrs. Carson always wanted him to take his own name if he ever found it," said Elinor, closing her locker and dropping the key into her bag.

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"What does she do?" asked Patricia, delighted with the ease and candor of this speech. She felt sure this rickety, loose-jointed, pale-colored young woman was going to be worth while.,

"What are you putting up in the garden, Elinor?" asked Madalon, stirring her tea. "I noticed that Henry had a lot of poles planted along the south shrubbery——",

As she went out of the gate the postman came in, and at the sight of another letter my heart slunk off into my slippers, and my brain seemed about to back up in a corner and refuse to work. In a flash it came to me that men oughtn't to write letters to women very much—they really don't plough deep enough, they just irritate the top soil. I took this missive from Alfred, counted all the fifteen pages, put it out of sight under a book, looked out of the window and saw Mr. Johnson shooed off down the street by Mrs. Johnson; saw the doctor's car go chugging hurriedly in the garage, and then my spirit turned itself to the wall and refused to be comforted. I tried my best, but failed to respond to my own remonstrances with myself, and tears were slowly gathering in a cloud of gloom when a blue gingham, romper-clad sunbeam burst into the room.,

"Very good," said Jen, as they turned their steps toward the house. "If her explanation is only as clear as your own, I shall have nothing to say. By the way, Miss Dallas, how did you escape from your room that night?"