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What his real name was nobody knew, but he said that he was called Battersea, after the parish in which he had been reared as a foundling.,

CHAPTER XVII. THE STORY OF THE NIGHT.,

"But what are you talking of?" broke in Jen, impetuously. "You say that my poor boy died from blood-poisoning. How else could he have come by that, save through being touched or struck with the devil-stick? No one in the neighborhood was likely to possess any weapon likely to corrupt the blood. If Maurice had been stabbed, or shot, or if his head had been smashed in, I could understand the crime--or rather the motive for the crime--better; but as it is, the person who stole the devil-stick must have killed him.",

"I promise you," said Jen again. "Please go. Miss Dallas. There is no time to be lost, and you must not be found here."

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"Well, mysteries, even the most profound, have been cleared up before now, major. Come, tell me precisely how the matter stands, and I may be able to help you.",

Of course, he must suspect how I feel about him, for two people couldn't both be so ignorant as not to see such an enormous thing as my love for him is, and I was the blind one. But he must never, never know that I ever realised it, for he is so good that it would distress him. I must just go on in my foolish way with him until I can get away. I'll tell him I'm sorry I was so indignant to-night, and say that I think it will be fine for him to take my Billy away from me with him. I must smile at the idea of having my very soul amputated, insist that it is the only thing to do, and pack up the little soul in a cabin trunk with a smile. Just smile, that is all! Life demands smiles from a woman even if she must crush their perfume from her own heart; and she generally has them ready.,

Outside a warm wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the perfume of flowers. In the dark blue sky hardly a cloud could be seen, and the moon, just showing her orb above the tree-tops, flooded the still loveliness of the night with wave after wave of cold light. All was full of charm, spellbound, as it were, by the magic of moonlight, when suddenly a long, wild cry struck shuddering through the silence.,

"I hunted and hunted for Elinor's, which I knew very well, for it was made on the back of one of my old tablets, but I couldn't find it. Geraldine couldn't find the one Doris used either, and then I got awfully interested. I told Geraldine that I was making up a story and I wanted to act it all out in life, and she was glad to help. She was mad at Doris anyway, and so she hunted everywhere for her sketch, but she couldn't find it. I was pretty near giving up then, for I thought I was mistaken; but the men were just making ready to take out Leighton's ashes when I thought, like a flash, 'There's where it would be, if anywhere,' and I told Geraldine. So we got sticks and we rummaged. My gracious, but it was dusty!"