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"It's gone sure enough, sir, but I don't know where.",First—no husband. That's out of the question! I'm not strong-minded enough to crank my own motor-car and study woman's suffrage. I like men, can't help it, and seem to need one for my own.,"Tell ole Dido ob de debble-stick.",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.,"But what does she mean by it. Uncle Jen? Didn't you wish me to marry Isabella?",Bruce rose and held out his hand to Patricia, who was flushing painfully.,"Maurice is not here. Come, Miss Dallas, let me take you back to your mother.","I know she is; but she hates you.",Again David noted that the tigerish light leaped up in the eyes of Etwald, but he had sufficient control of his features to preserve a look of courteous curiosity. He carefully handled and examined the instrument of death.,"Do you really think she killed him?" asked Lady Meg, her face growing pale with the intensity of her excitement.,"I don't think so," retorted Isabella, rising. "Of course, I know that he is clever, but as to being great, he isn't known beyond this place." She walked to the end of the veranda, and stood for a moment in the glare of the sunshine. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her, and she turned toward the negress.,"Mrs. Dallas," said David, faintly. "It was Mrs. Dallas.".