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"Naturally, you wish to know how the dead came to be alive, and for what reason I behaved as I did. Well, here you shall find the whole explanation, so fully given that there will be no necessity for you to seek me at Deanminster. Indeed, if you do so, you will not find me, as by the time you receive this letter I shall be well on my way to London. Thence it is my intention to go abroad, and--as I told you at our last meeting--you will never see me again. When you finish this letter, you will, no doubt, be glad of this; and it is just as well that I should remain beyond your reach. You are a virtuous man, I am not--but our natures would prevent our ever assimilating, the one with the other. As to my promised explanation, here it is, and much good may it do you.,

"Well, you needn't," expostulated Judith sagely. "You got it, didn't you?",

"Perhaps I can assist you.",

"About David also?"

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This discovery at once irritated, amazed and perplexed the major. That the handkerchief of Mrs. Dallas should be bound around the head of Jaggard was strange, but that it should be perfumed with the deadly scent which impregnated the devil-stick was stranger still. Had Mrs. Dallas found the wand of sleep? Had Mrs. Dallas perfumed the handkerchief with its cruel poison? Had Mrs. Dallas drugged or stupefied Jaggard on that fatal night by means of that saturated handkerchief? These were the vital questions which presented themselves to the puzzled major, and which he found himself unable to answer.,

"She used to be," was Judith's frank reply. "But since you've become an artist, like Aunt Louise, she fairly adores you!",

"Both of them will refuse to meet you. You saw Mrs. Dallas to-day, how she behaved.",

He was half-clothed, pale as the white dress of Isabella Dallas, and evidently, from the wild look in his eyes and the quivering of his nether lip, badly scared. Stopping short a few paces from the door, he held up the lamp which he carried, to survey the astonishing scene before him. The sight of Jen tongue-tied and immovable, of Isabella weeping on her knees by the bedside, of the bed itself vacant of its dead occupant--all these things were calculated to shock even stronger nerves than those of David Sarby. Nevertheless, after a pause of sheer astonishment, he managed to stammer out a question: