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"The great master," repeated Jen; "you mean Dr. Etwald?" "But there must be," insisted Etwald, cruelly. "Alymer died of poison, and it must be proved that such was the case. Then we may learn if he perished from the poison of the devil-stick. Afterward you must get a detective to search for the person who stole it from your smoking-room. Once he or she is found, and the assassin of your poor friend will be in custody." "H'm! You are pleased to be mysterious. Why not tell me your business?".

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"Don't I, Molly?" he asked softly, after looking straight in my eyes for a long minute, that made me drop my head until the blue bow I had tied on the end of my long plait almost got into the scattered jam. Even at such a moment as that I felt how glad Madame Rene would have been to have given such a nice man as the doctor a treat like that blue silk chef-d'oeuvre of hers. I was glad myself. "You have good custom today, François," he said with a gesture toward the chattering groups at the other tables. "It's a blessing we finished ourselves up to the last notch at home," said Patricia, with wide eyes of dismay for the throngs at the two mirrors. "We haven't a chance to get a peep here, unless we stay all night. Is my headpiece on all right, Elinor? I feel all askew after that crush." "Why, it's like a laundry," exclaimed Patricia in disappointment as she looked about her. The low-ceiled whitewashed apartment into which they had descended from the winding iron stair was sepulchrally bare and empty in the flicker of its noisy gas jets, the rusty gas stoves at its farther end emphasizing its general air of desolation..