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The major was prepared for this question, and as he did not intend that the visit of Isabella to the house should become known to the police, he answered it in a guarded fashion. "Do you mean Elizabeth March, who got the Tassel prize this year?" asked Patricia in surprise. "Why, I saw her last week at the exhibition and she was awfully prim looking." Judith's face had been undergoing swift changes during this short speech, but now it cleared and a beatific expression shone upon it..
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"I should think so. Simply because he is the holder of the Voodoo stone." "Mrs. Dallas. She had missed her daughter and had been seeking for her in a state of terror, surely natural under the circumstances. I found her pacing the veranda, wondering what had become of Isabella." "I can't help it," I gulped in my sleeve. "I did use to like Alfred Bennett. My heart almost broke when he went away. I used to be beautiful and slim, and now I feel as if my own fat ghost has come to haunt me all my life. I am so ashamed! If a woman can't cry over her own dead beauty, what can she cry over?" By this time I was really crying. Patricia grabbed the sheet before Judith could set down her glass, and she read it aloud, with great enjoyment..
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