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It was a melancholy procession which bore the body up to the house. Four men carried the bier--for it was nothing else since it bore the dead body of a young man--and behind came Major Jen bowed to the ground with sorrow. He could hardly believe that Maurice was dead--that he had perished upon a lonely country road by an unknown hand. But that was the question! Jen began to think the assassin was not unknown; that he had a clew to find the guilty one; and he waited the coming of Dr. Etwald with great impatience to see what his opinion was regarding the course to be pursued. Groans of relief sounded from the side of the room whence the voice had come, and there was a general giggle. "Certainly not," rejoined Etwald, with something like a sneer; "but you are also no detective.".

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"Why, of course," interrupted Isabella again. "Don't you remember. Dido, you were asked if you had taken it?" Patricia had an uneasy sense of insincerity in the light tone, but a swift glance into the wide eyes of the smiling Doris reassured her. "I must risk that," said the doctor, slowly, "Mrs. Dallas, I love your daughter, and I wish to marry her. Miss Isabella, will you be my wife?" It was Dido who spoke first. She noticed that the eyes of her mistress constantly strayed in the direction of "Ashantee," and with the jealousy begotten of deep affection, she guessed that the girl's thoughts were fixed upon the much-hated Maurice. At once she spoke reproachfully, and in the grotesque negro dialect, which, however, coming from Dido's mouth, inspired no one with merriment..