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He bowed, and without offering his hand--which it is very probable Major Jen would have refused to take--he left the room. When the door closed the older man sank into a chair and passed his hand across a brow moist with perspiration.,

"It is strange that a lady's name should be thus introduced," said Jen, annoyed at the tone of the conversation. "Let us drop the subject. Another cigar, Maurice. David, the wine is with you. Dr. Etwald--",

He bent down to replace the bedclothes which the sick man had thrown off, and as he did so, a faint perfume, sickly and rich, struck his nostrils. It seemed to come from the bandages at the back of the head, and on bending down for a closer inspection, Jen saw that one of these--it was the merest corner which peeped out--was of finer linen than the rest. The fabric was cambric, and with a start which made the blood turn to ice in his veins, Jen realized that it was a woman's handkerchief--its delicacy and border-embroideries assured him of this.,

He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality.

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Battersea entered the witness-box and deposed that he was of mixed negro blood, and by reason of his superstition, under the influence of Dido. At times she hypnotized him, but he did not know when she did it; he thought it was Obi--African witchcraft. Sometimes he carried messages between her and the prisoner. Dr. Etwald had told him to say one single word to Dido--that was "devil-stick." He did not know what it meant. Afterward the devil-stick--as he was told--had disappeared, and Mr. Alymer was murdered. He found the devil-stick on the grass, near the bushes, within the gates of "The Wigwam." Not knowing what it was, he took it to Lady Meg Brance, who sometimes gave him money. She took witness and the devil-stick to Major Jen, who now possessed it. With regard to the stealing of the body, witness said that he saw it placed in a carriage, and by clinging on behind he had traced the carriage to the house of Dr. Etwald, in Deanminster. Prisoner drove the carriage himself. Witness tried to get money out of prisoner by telling what he had seen; but Dr. Etwald had forced him to hold his tongue by threatening him with the vengeance of the Voodoo stone. Being half an African, witness was very much afraid of the charm.,

"I shall be delighted, if you'll be so good as to let me," he said gratefully, with his sincere gaze on the festive group about the dainty table. "I've heard of your good luck in finding your family, and am very glad to meet them.",

Battersea was supposed to be a Christian; but the barbaric fluid in his veins inclined him to the terrible grotesqueness of African witchcraft, and Dido and her words stirred some dim instinct in his mind. The negress saw that accident had placed in her way a helpless creature who might be of use in her necromantic business; therefore, by hypnotizing him once or twice, she contrived to keep him within her power. All of which fantasy would have been denied by the average British newspaper reader, who can not imagine such things taking place in what he calls euphoniously a Christian land. But this happened, for all his denial.,

"Oh, you Molly," came a hail in Tom's voice from the gate, just as I was making up my mind to try and think of something to wither the doctor with, and he and Ruth Clinton came up the front walk to meet us. I wondered why I was having a party in my house when being alone in my garden with just a neighbour was so much more interesting, but I had to begin to enjoy myself right off, for in a few minutes all the rest came.