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"Yes," assented Jen, turning his sharp eyes on Isabella, "and you--do you believe in this Voodoo stone also?","What is it?" demanded Jen, in a fever of excitement.,"To accuse them upon insufficient evidence?",Patricia blushed with pleasure, and Griffin called out heartily, "Bring her in, Eitel. There's going to be another!",The major was rather inclined to agree with David that it would be difficult to learn anything of material value from Isabella. On the night she had visited the house at three o'clock in the morning her brain had been unsettled for the time being by the terrible death which had overtaken her lover, and she had been thrown into a frenzy by the mysterious theft of his body. The question which the major wished answered was, whether she had been sufficiently herself to remember the events of that night, and especially those which had taken place prior to her escape from The Wigwam. But the only way to decide this doubt was to see the girl personally, and Major Jen feared lest he should find Mrs. Dallas and Dido obstacles to his accomplishment of this object.,She followed Elinor into the larger room where a feeble daylight, filtering in through heavily grated basement windows, struggled with the flaring gas jets, and the odor of cocoa and bread and butter mingled with sachet and the fumes of turpentine and paint.,"Voodoo!" she said, and that was all. But it was enough for Isabella. She shrieked and ran out of the room. Then Dido, still singing, appeared at the window, and looked at Mrs. Dallas with an expression of triumph.,"Dearest, you must not be afraid," said he, glancing down anxiously at her face. "You must throw off the terror you have of this woman. If the law--","Then you want him to meet his fate of life in death!" said Etwald, curtly.,"It doesn't seem worth while," she began, but Patricia broke in impatiently:,Here she waited in the shadow of the fluttering violet arc light, with her eyes fastened to the silent, insensible windows. Ten minutes that seemed ten eternities went lagging by. Tears of disappointment rose to Patricia's eyes and she shivered as the gusts of west wind flung the drops from the saturated trees in a silver shower across the darkened panes.,Patricia held out her hand across the cloth. "I can't kiss you, but here's the substitute. You're a duck, Bruce Haydon. Where is the studio?".