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"I know what I am doing," he would say, a trifle tartly, "and I prefer to keep my own counsel. If the murderer of my dear boy can be found, he or she will be found by me. If the wretch who stole his body can be discovered, I am the man to make that discovery. How I intend to set about it is my own affair." "If I can force the truth out of Dido," thought Jen, strolling slowly along in the hot sunshine, "I may get the better of Etwald. Then, when David sees that the doctor is in the trap, and in danger of arrest for murder, he may relate what he knows. Though upon my word," considered the major, frowning, "I don't see what information he can possibly add to what I have obtained from Jaggard, or what I am likely to wring from the unwilling lips of Dido. Etwald is the guilty person. David can tell me no more than that." "Yis. Dat so," said Dido, with pretended surprise, turning on him sharply. "But you no b'lieve in Obi, massa. What you know of de wand of sleep--de debble-stick?".
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"She want you to-day," insisted Dido, obstinately. "Uncle Jen, I want to ask you something." "She is lovely, isn't she?" she replied ardently. "But her dress isn't half so gorgeous as yours," she added heartily. "She returned through your grounds, but where she went Battersea does not know.".
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