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"Well, of all people in the world!" she cried delightedly to the newcomers. "Where did you come from? Why aren't you in Paris? And where's Mr. Bingham?" "Oh, stop teasing, Miss Pat," cried Judith, wriggling free. "I wouldn't be an actress if you'd hire me. I'm going to be a writer, and now I'm going to bed. Good-night," and she made a flying leap into her pillows and covered herself to the eyes. "Don't say another word to me tonight," she warned, "or I'll call Miss Jinny. I'm going to sleep." CHAPTER XII. THE STRANGE PERFUME..

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"When Dido says 'Voodoo' he comes," repeated Maurice, greatly puzzled. "Are you talking of Dr. Etwald?" These directions were obeyed at once. The house, the grounds, the whole wild night with its driving tempest became radiant with lights and alive with terrified men. That a human being should be murdered was sufficiently ghastly without this crowning horror of a missing body coming after. Every man looked on his fellow with suspicion; in the yellow light of the lanterns, dimly through the steady downpour of rain, could be seen pallid faces and scared expressions. And while the men folk scoured the house, the park, and the adjacent lanes environing "Ashantee," the female servants, unnerved and hysterical, crowded together in the kitchen, whispering over hastily prepared tea. It was a wild night, and full of the vague horrors of death and mystery. Patricia opened her eyes wide. "Why, Bruce is the most amiable sort," she protested. "He'll simply eat out of your hand up at home. I didn't know he ever criticized here," she ended, rather suspiciously. At this moment he broke off his speech with an ejaculation of surprise, for, true to the prognostication of Isabella--in answer to the expectant attitude of the negress--Dr. Etwald turned in at the gate..