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"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the evidence of the crown, which makes out that my client is guilty. That evidence is wrong, as can be proved by one witness. I am the witness. In my rooms there is lying a confession, signed and witnessed, which sets forth that I am the guilty person. It was I, not Dr. Etwald, who murdered Maurice Alymer." (Sensation in the court.) "Yes. I was in love with Miss Dallas, and therefore was jealous of Maurice. I knew that Dido possessed the devil-stick--how, it does not matter--and I bribed her to give it to me. I pretended to go to London on the night of the murder, but instead of doing so I remained in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, where I obtained the devil-stick from Dido. I saw Maurice meet with Miss Dallas. I saw them kiss and part. Inflamed by jealousy, I rushed after him and met him on the road. He turned in surprise, and flung out his arms to keep me off. The devil-stick, with its poison fang protruding, was in my grasp, and in throwing out his arm I wounded him in the palm of the hand, thus--",

"Then it's Tom," cried Patricia delightedly. "I wonder if he'll mind being tagged. Shall you tell him his fate soon, Ju, or let him gradually waken to it?",

"I can't exactly describe it. A rich, heavy, deadly sort of thing, likely, I should think, to dull the sharpest senses.",

"Judith Kendall, you're a little monster!" cried Patricia, indignantly. "Even if Doris did cheat, she's doing a noble thing now, and we ought to be the last to blab, since Elinor got the prize. Doris had to pay for her sins and she has human feelings, too."

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Patricia opened her plan with great expedition, pouring out explanation and entreaty in one excited rush, while Miss Jinny sat opposite her on the side of the bed, her rather protruding pale blue eyes cocked sidewise at her in the meditative way she had when deeply interested.,

But the scent of the roses will cling round it still"--,

I'll never forget my first real party. I was bridesmaid for Caroline Evans, when she married a Birmingham magnate, from which Hillsboro has never yet recovered. It was the week before the wedding. I was sixteen, felt dreadfully unclothed without a tucker in my dress, and saw Alfred for the first time in evening clothes—his first. I can hardly stand thinking about how he looked even now. I haven't been to very many parties in my life, but from this time on I mean to indulge in them often. Candle-light, pretty women's frocks, black coat sleeves, cut glass and flowers are good ingredients for a joy-drink, and why not?,

"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Dallas, casting a haggard look around. "All is lost."