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"Because I may fail," said Maurice. "Here, Uncle Jen, don't be cross; I'll tell you all about it to-morrow, and then you will see and approve of my silence to-night." "Isn't it funny how familiar that antique room looks?" said Patricia with enjoyment. "I feel quite like an old residenter already. By the time my clay comes I'll have the sensations of the oldest inhabitant." "The very thing, Miss Pat," she agreed radiantly. "I'll look up the number for you.".

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"Certainly I do. I believe she killed Maurice; but the evidence is as yet too slight upon which to accuse her. If I thought that she--" here the major checked himself and resumed in an altered tone--"but I must think of these things later on. In the meantime I must conclude my examination of this man." "Where were you when the body was stolen?" The two young men burst out simultaneously with the speech in tones of sheer astonishment, and stared at Etwald as at some strangle animal. That this elderly man--Etwald was midway between thirty and forty, but that looked elderly to these boys of twenty-five--should dare to love Isabella Dallas, was a thing unheard of. She so young, so beautiful, so full of divine youth and diviner womanhood; he so sombre, pale and worn with intellectual vigils; with a mysterious past, a doubtful present and a problematic future. "What'll I tell her, if I do?" demanded Patricia indignantly. "I haven't any idea what you want to telegraph?".