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Griffin grinned good-naturedly. "Keep your righteous wrath for the right fellow, young 'un. When you've been in the night life as many years as I have, you'll know that we don't choose a leader—she simply elects herself by taking the head of the procession. We never know who's who after we rig up. That's part of the game. So, you see, it may have been the charming Doris, or Howes here, or my unworthy self, that put those obnoxious questions to your sister—no one knows for sure, and the mean cuss won't tell.",

As they went back to the flower-decked sitting-room, Judith edged close to whisper in her ear.,

Miss Jinny cocked her head knowingly. "Trust me," she replied, laconically. "I had a cousin who was an actor and I saw him put on a beautiful beard with spirit-gum and creped hair once. That was twenty years ago, but I reckon they can still be had here in town.",

"One of her lies," said Isabella, vehemently. "I did not know she had gone to your house until the servant told me. Then when I remembered how the devil-stick had been stolen I was afraid lest Dido should be contriving further mischief. Although it was late I could not rest in my bed. I tossed and turned with my brain burning with the fever. I felt that I must learn what was taking place at your house. My mother left me about two o'clock in the morning quite worn out with her watching. Then I rose, put on a dressing-gown, and escaped by the window. I reached your library at three o'clock. You know the rest."

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"Well?" he said at last. "What's the verdict?",

She ran hastily into the house, as though to escape further conversation on a distasteful subject, while Dido, with her eyes on the ground, remained in deep thought. The old negress knew that she was placed in a perilous position, which might be rendered even more so should Isabella speak freely. But of this she had little fear, as by her conversation with Major Jen the girl had gone forward on a path of concealment whence there was now no retreat. Yet Dido was not satisfied. She did not trust those around her, and she was uneasy as to what might be the result of Jen's pertinacity in investigating both the death of Maurice and the disappearance of the body. Thus perplexed it occurred to her to seek out and consult with Dr. Etwald.,

"There's no hurry, anyway," insisted Patricia. "The cocoa will keep hot on the corner of the stove and the rest of the things don't matter. You girls haven't any classes this afternoon, so we have an eternity to feed in.",

"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——"