"one moment!" said jen, as they approached the veranda, whereon dido was waiting them. "how do you know etwald picked up the handkerchief in the room?"

"because i overheard his apology to my mother for having put her handkerchief to such use," replied isabella, with suspicious promptitude.

"humph! didn't the doctor think it strange that he should find it there?"

"i don't know, major. he made no remark."

"rather peculiar, don't you think, seeing that he must necessarily have been ignorant of your visit on that night?"

the color of isabella rose in her cheeks.

"he was not ignorant of that!" she said in a low voice. "to account for the fever which seized me, my mother explained all that took place to dr. etwald. he quite understood that i had dropped the handkerchief."

"did he apologize for his use of it before or after the explanation?" was jen's final question.

"after!" replied isabella, with some hesitation; then abruptly left the major's side to exchange a few words with dido. jen, as was natural, looked after her with a glance full of doubt and suspicion. notwithstanding her love for maurice and her expressed desire to avenge his death by hunting down the assassin, she appeared to be anything but frank in the matter. in plain words, her conduct suggested to jen's mind an idea that she knew more than she cared to talk about; and that such half-hinted knowledge implicated her mother. in which case--but here dido interrupted jen's meditations.

"my missy tell me you wish to hear my obi," she said, abruptly, fixing her eyes on the face of the visitor. "why you wish? you laugh at obi."

"i don't particularly wish to learn your voodoo secrets," answered jen carelessly. "all i desire to know is why you manufactured that scent with which you saturated a certain handkerchief of your mistress."

"mother's handkerchief, dido," explained isabella, interrupting. "the one you bound round my head."

"oh, dat a voodoo smell to drib away de evil spirit," said dido, solemnly addressing herself more particularly to the major. "my witch-mudder, she learn to make dat in her own land--"

"in ashantee?"

"ho! yis. it berry strong, dat smell. too much of it kill--kill--kill!"

"by means of its odor?"

"no, dat only drib away bad debbils. but you scratch de skin with one leetle bit of it, and you die, die, die!"

"and the scratch is made by means of the wand of sleep?"

"yis. dat so," said dido, with pretended surprise, turning on him sharply. "but you no b'lieve in obi, massa. what you know of de wand of sleep--de debble-stick?"

"because i had one, dido."

the negress laughed with scornful doubt.

"ho, dat one big lie. der ain't de debble-stick but in de king's palace at kumassi."

"you are wrong. i had one, and it was stolen by--"

"why, of course," interrupted isabella again. "don't you remember. dido, you were asked if you had taken it?"

"ho, yis. now i do tink," said dido. "ah, massa, you say i took de debble-stick and made de new smell to fill him. den dat i kill wid him massa, who lubbed lil missy, and dat i made spells in your house to steal de body. heh, dat not so?"

"it certainly is so," assented jen, astonished to hear her put his suspicions into such plain words. "mr. alymer was killed by means of this poison. it was used again to render my servant insensible while the body was stolen. so i thought--"

"i know, i know!" broke in dido, impatiently. "but dat not to do wid me. de poison in your debble-stick."

"there was; but it was all dried up."

"no! dat nossin. if you pour wather in dat stick de poison come alive. well, dat stick taken, but i no take it. dat poo' young massa killed wid it--i no kill him. but de udder ting, sah. dat smell! i mek it for missy, dat all!"

and having made this explanation, dido folded her arms, and waited in scornful silence to hear what her accuser had to say. he considered the absolute absurdity of her story, which, on the face of it, was a manifest invention, and one which, it would seem, was supported by the testimony of isabella.

"you are satisfied now, i think," said this latter, seeing that the major did not speak.

"well, yes. miss dallas," returned he, with much deliberation. "i am' satisfied, for the time being."

"does dido's explanation give you any clew?" she asked quickly.

major jen considered again, and looked her straightly in the eyes.

"yes," he replied, with point and some dryness. "it gives me a clew in a direction for which i should not have looked for it. thank you, miss dallas, and you, dido. i shall now say good-day."

"when will you return?"

"when i have followed to its end the clew of which we have been speaking," replied jen, and taking off his hat he walked swiftly away from the house. swiftly, as he was afraid lest isabella would ask him indoors, and for certain reasons not unconnected with the late conversation, he did not wish to face mrs. dallas at the present moment. there were large issues at stake.

when he vanished round the curve of the drive, isabella, with a very pale face, turned toward dido.

"i have told all the lies you wished me to tell," she said, hurriedly. "i have hidden from the sharp eyes of major jen those things which you wished hidden, and all at the cost of my honor and honesty."

"der noting wrong, missy," said dido, eagerly. "i swear--"

"don't," cried isabella, with a shudder. "you have done enough evil. do not add perjury to your other sins."

she ran hastily into the house, as though to escape further conversation on a distasteful subject, while dido, with her eyes on the ground, remained in deep thought. the old negress knew that she was placed in a perilous position, which might be rendered even more so should isabella speak freely. but of this she had little fear, as by her conversation with major jen the girl had gone forward on a path of concealment whence there was now no retreat. yet dido was not satisfied. she did not trust those around her, and she was uneasy as to what might be the result of jen's pertinacity in investigating both the death of maurice and the disappearance of the body. thus perplexed it occurred to her to seek out and consult with dr. etwald.

"i shall tell the master all!" she muttered in her own barbaric dialect, "and he will tell me what to do. the spirit in the voodoo stone will tell him." having come to this resolution she went into the house to ask, or rather to demand, permission to visit deanminster. that she was about to call upon etwald, the negress did not think it necessary to tell mrs. dallas. there were matters between her and the doctor of which mrs. dallas knew nothing, which she would not have understood if she had known. when she inquired, dido merely hinted that such secrets had to do with obi, when the superstitious nature of mrs. dallas immediately shrank from pursuing an inquiry into what were, even to this civilized so-called christian woman, secret mysteries.

but while dido goes on her dark path and takes her way toward etwald in his gloomy house at deanminster, it is necessary to return to the doings of major jen. on leaving the wigwam he returned forthwith to his own house with the intention of repeating to david the conversation which had taken place between himself. dido and isabella. on his arrival, however, he learned that david had gone out for a walk, and that lady meg brance was waiting for him in the library. at once the ever-courteous major hastened to apologize to his visitor.

"my dear lady meg, i am so sorry to have been absent when you called. i hope you have not been waiting long!"

"only half an hour," replied lady meg, in a low, grave voice. "i should have waited in any case until your return, as i have something important to say to you."

the major looked inquiringly at his visitor. she was a tall and stately woman, with a fair complexion, steady blue eyes and hair of a deep red shade. although close on twenty-five years of age, she was still a spinster, as much to the annoyance of her mother--a match-making matron--she had hitherto declined the most eligible offers for her hand. her reasons for such refusals she would not state, but jen, from certain observations, had long since guessed the truth. lady meg was deeply in love with maurice alymer, and it was for his sake that she remained single. whether she knew that the young man loved isabella dallas it is impossible to say; but at all events she showed him very plainly the drift of her desires. the very indifference of alymer had rendered her passion more violent and persistent. what would have been the conclusion of this one-sided love it is difficult to conjecture; but the death of maurice had brought this and all other things to an abrupt conclusion.

lady meg was dressed in black out of regard for the dead man, and she looked worn, red-eyed and very dejected. but in coming forward to greet the major, her fine blue eyes lighted up with the fire of hope, and it was with something of her old impetuosity--quenched since the death of maurice--that she gave him her hand and repeated her last remark.

"i have something to say to you," she said, quickly. "something likely to help you in your investigations."

"concerning the theft of the body?" asked jen, eagerly.

"no, with regard to the murder."

"what is it?"

"i will inform you in a few minutes," replied lady meg. "but first tell me if you have found out anything likely to reveal the truth."

"no." jen shook his head mournfully. "i am completely in the dark, and so is inspector arkel. the whole case is a profound mystery."

"well, mysteries, even the most profound, have been cleared up before now, major. come, tell me precisely how the matter stands, and i may be able to help you."

"you know something?"

"yes, i do; and it is to tell that something that i have driven over to-day. well, now, major, let me know all about the matter from the beginning. i have heard nothing but the most garbled accounts, and it is necessary, for the sake of the information which i am about to impart, that i should know the exact truth."

"i shall tell it to you," replied jen, with some hesitation; "but i am afraid i shall give you pain."

"i guess what you mean--miss dallas."

jen bent his head gravely.

"maurice wanted to marry her."

"i know, i know," replied lady meg, while a wave of color passed over her fair face.

"you do!" cried jen, in surprise, "and who told you?"

"mr. sarby."

"oh!" the major considered a moment, and his thoughts were anything but benevolent toward david. "i can guess why he told you."

"what do you mean, major?"

"never mind at present," said jen, evasively. "i'll tell you that later on. in the meantime, let me state the case. maurice was killed on the high road by means, as i verily believe, of the devil-stick. you know about that, of course."

"yes, i read the report of the inquest, and i have heard rumors. i agree with you, major, that mr. alymer was killed by the poison of the devil-stick. go on."

"on the night that the body was stolen," continued jen, deliberately, "jaggard was drugged."

"by whom?"

"i can't say. if i knew that i'd know who stole the body. but he was drugged by means of a perfume which is the same as that impregnating the devil-stick."

"how do you know?"

jen was about to explain when he remembered the necessity of keeping silent concerning the visit of isabella to the house.

"i can't tell you that just now," he said, in a hesitating manner. "but i know it for certain."

"well," said lady meg, "it would seem that the devil-stick is the center of this mystery."

"i fancy it is."

"if you found the devil-stick you would know the truth?"

"i don't go so far as that," protested jen. "if we found the person who stole the devil-stick from my smoking-room i might guess the truth."

"in that case, major, look at this," said lady meg, and produced an article from her pocket, an article which she held up triumphantly before the astonished eyes of the old man.

"the devil-stick!" he cried. "by all that is wonderful, the devil-stick!"

"yes, the devil-stick. i got it from the assassin of mr. alymer!"

"the assassin--you know the assassin? who is he or she?"

"it is not a woman, but a man. battersea!"