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"I know who drugged Jaggard. I have learned who stole the body of Maurice!" "Well, well, dearie, I don't know about that," said Aunt Bettie as she fanned and rocked her great, big, darling, fat self in the strong rocking-chair I always kept for her. "Alfred is not old enough to have proved himself entirely, and from what I hear——" she paused with the big hearty smile that she always wears when she begins to tease or match-make, and she does them both most of her time. The more Jen thought about the matter the more perplexed did he become. The recovered devil-stick, found in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, the saturated handkerchief found in the bedroom of the dead man; and now the unaccountable hints of David that he knew something likely to throw a light upon these mysteries, joined with an equally unaccountable refusal to afford such revelation, all these things puzzled him; but as it was impossible in the absence of actual knowledge, to come to any reasonable decision, Jen determined to see Jaggard and see how he was. If Jaggard could only recover his senses, argued the major, he would be able to say who had stolen the body. Moreover, in Jen's opinion, the person who committed the second crime would most probably, by the force of analogous reasoning, have committed the first..

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"I have seen it," corrected Etwald, with professional calmness, "the poor fellow is dead, major--dead from blood-poisoning." "Then down through the bushes to that winding lane, I suppose?" said Jen. "I know all that; but afterward?" "Mean!" cried Jen, in a tone of conviction. "Why! that Etwald is mixed up in this business also!" "Of course he does," cried Jen, wrathfully..