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"Then let her see the police, sir, although I don't agree with you. She is not the woman to put a rope round her own neck--black as it is." "Precisely the case with Isabella," said the doctor, nodding. "Come, major, I won't worry you any longer with inquiries. Dido hypnotized the daughter to commit the crime, as she had willed the mother to steal the devil-stick. Isabella is absolutely ignorant of what she did, and firmly believed that I was the guilty person. Now, of course, she thinks David--by his own confession--is the assassin." "What are those reasons?".
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"Neither did I, if I remember rightly," said Etwald, dryly, "Besides, Dido--as you proved--did not steal the devil-stick. However, if you are suspicious of her, go over to-morrow and see Mrs. Dallas. It will be as well to be sure of your ground before making a public affair of it. By the way, I suppose you will have a detective down from London, to sift the affair to the bottom?" "Mrs. Dallas," said David, faintly. "It was Mrs. Dallas." "I'll give you the names later on, Mr. Inspector. In the meantime, be good enough to conclude your report of Battersea's confession. It interests me deeply." "Isn't it lovely and mysterious?" murmured Elinor, pausing to enjoy the sense of isolation that the obscurity of the blurred lamps emphasized. "I almost hate to lift the curtain. It may be so disappointing.".
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