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Once on the impromptu platform, Patricia's embarrassment dropped from her, and she smiled a ready acknowledgment to the shouts that demanded a dozen different songs at once. 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. "Mrs. Dallas," said David, faintly. "It was Mrs. Dallas.".

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Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly. "Well," said Arkel, making his invariable beginning, "when the body was placed in the carriage and the door closed, the woman went away." "What do you want to make a show of her for, Bruce?" she remonstrated feelingly. "You can say all you have to say right here, can't you?" "I guess you won't have to chloroform us to drag us there this time," she retorted. "I'm glad we're presentable, anyway. Aren't you thankful I made you put on your best duds, Norn? There's nothing like being contented when one feeds, and I couldn't partake of the stalled ox with any satisfaction in my old school rags.".