ISABELLA.
This discovery at once irritated, amazed and perplexed the major. That
the handkerchief of Mrs. Dallas should be bound around the head of
Jaggard was strange, but that it should be perfumed with the deadly
scent which impregnated the devil-stick was stranger still. Had Mrs.
Dallas found the wand of sleep? Had Mrs. Dallas perfumed the
handkerchief with its cruel poison? Had Mrs. Dallas drugged or
stupefied Jaggard on that fatal night by means of that saturated
handkerchief? These were the vital questions which presented
themselves to the puzzled major, and which he found himself unable to
answer.
And here, at this point, the personality of Dr. Etwald intruded itself
into the affair. It was Etwald who had bound up the wound with the
handkerchief in question, and who, according to the housemaid, had
forbidden its removal. The question was, had he received it from Mrs.
Dallas, or had he found it on that night by the side of the insensible
man. If the first, Mrs. Dallas must have perfumed it designedly with
the poison, and Etwald, knowing that it was so impregnated, must have
used it advisedly as a bandage. If the second, Mrs. Dallas must have
been in the room on the night in question, and have used the
handkerchief to render Jaggard insensible. And in either case, as the
major very sensibly concluded, Mrs. Dallas must be in possession of
the devil-stick. Otherwise, how could she have obtained the deadly
scent?
"And the plain conclusion of the whole affair," soliloquized Jen, "is
that Mrs. Dallas must have stolen the devil-stick, must have murdered
Maurice, and must have drugged Jaggard for the purpose of completing
her devilish work by stealing my poor boy's body. But her reason?"
That she did not desire Maurice for a son-in-law was an insufficient
motive for the commission of a triple crime. She had declined to
sanction the engagement; she had forbidden Maurice the house; and,
assisted upon all points by social rules, she had ample power to
prevent the match, which, as she averred, was distasteful to her. Why,
then, with this power, should she jeopardize liberty and life by
thieving the devil-stick and killing the man? In his perplexity, Jen
sought out David and asked his opinion. The young lawyer gave a very
decided verdict in favor of Mrs. Dallas.
"I don't believe Mrs. Dallas has anything to do with the matter," he
said, in a decisive voice. "She had no motive to commit these three
crimes, each one of which is more terrible than the other. Nor, major,
do I think that she has nerve or brain enough to design or accomplish
assassination or theft."
"But I assure you, David, the handkerchief is hers."
"Granted; but you forget that Isabella was in the room on that night.
She might have dropped the handkerchief."
"Well," said Jen, after a pause, "that is not improbable. But the
perfume?"
"Oh," replied David, with a shrug, "we know that the scent is an
Ashantee preparation. Dido's grandmother came from Ashantee, so it is
just probable that Dido herself, knowing the secret, might have
prepared a dose of the poison."
"Even so. Why should she have perfumed the handkerchief?"
"I can't say, major. You had better ask her."
"Egad, I shall," cried Jen, starting from his chair. "And also I'll
find out why she needed to prepare the poison at all. In my opinion,
David, that black Jezebel is at the bottom of the whole affair. She
thieved the devil-stick, she prepared the poison, murdered Maurice,
and stole his body."
"You accused Mrs. Dallas of all these things five minutes ago," said
David, ironically, "and now you think--"
"I don't know what to think," cried Jen, in desperation. "Dido or Mrs.
Dallas, I don't know which, but one of them, must be guilty. I'll go
over to The Wigwam at once."
"To accuse them upon insufficient evidence?"
"No. I'll see Isabella, and hear what she has to say. She loved
Maurice, and will aid me to avenge his death."
"That is improbable, if to do so she has to betray her mother or her
nurse. I don't think you'll learn much in that quarter, major."
"I'll learn what I can, at all events," retorted Jen; and in this
unsatisfactory manner the conversation concluded. David retired to his
room, and Jen went off to interview Isabella at The Wigwam.
He walked meditatively down to the gates, and here, on the high-road,
his thoughts led him to a sudden conclusion respecting the coming
conversation with Miss Dallas. Without much consideration he retraced
his steps rapidly, and sought out David in his room. Then and there he
asked him a question which was of vital importance.
"David," said he abruptly, "owing to the coming of Etwald and Arkel on
that night--the night upon which the body was stolen, I mean--I forgot
to ask you what reception Miss Dallas met with on her return home. Who
received her?"
"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."
"Pacing the veranda?" echoed Jen, thoughtfully. "Was she fully
dressed?"
"Well, yes, so far as my memory serves me, I think she was."
"And Dido?"
"I saw nothing or heard nothing of Dido. When I found Mrs. Dallas, I
simply performed my mission, and delivered Isabella into her hands.
The poor girl was quite distraught with the horror of the night, and
was led unresistingly to bed by her mother."
"Mrs. Dallas dressed! Dido missing!" said the major. "Thank you,
David, you have told me all I want to know," and with a nod Major Jen
set off for the second time to The Wigwam.
The major was rather inclined to agree with David that it would be
difficult to learn anything of material value from Isabella. On the
night she had visited the house at three o'clock in the morning her
brain had been unsettled for the time being by the terrible death
which had overtaken her lover, and she had been thrown into a frenzy
by the mysterious theft of his body. The question which the major
wished answered was, whether she had been sufficiently herself to
remember the events of that night, and especially those which had
taken place prior to her escape from The Wigwam. But the only way to
decide this doubt was to see the girl personally, and Major Jen feared
lest he should find Mrs. Dallas and Dido obstacles to his
accomplishment of this object.
However, fortune favored him, and to state the truth, fortune rather
astonished him; for upon arriving within the grounds of Mrs. Dallas,
the major met with Isabella herself. In a light-colored dress, with
sunshade and straw hat, she was strolling down the walk which led to
the gate. On coming up with Jen, he was surprised to see that her
manner was calm and collected; in all respects different from that
displayed during the frenzy of the midnight visit. He could hardly
believe that she was the same girl.
"I am glad to see you, major," said she, holding out her hand. "You
have saved me the trouble of a journey, as I was on my way to your
house."
"To see me, Miss Dallas?"
"Yes, to see you," she replied, with a serious face. "In order to talk
with you about my last visit--on that terrible night."
"My dear young lady," he remonstrated, "why distress yourself with
recollections of these things?"
"Because it is necessary that I should do so, major. It is my
intention to aid you in your search for the assassin of Maurice. Oh,
yes, you may look doubtful as to my ability to help you, but I can and
will. I am not the mad woman who burst into your library at three in
the morning. I am cool and calm and bent upon revenge. Maurice is
dead. I loved him. And I intend to devote myself to avenging his
death. Come, major, sit upon this seat beside me, and relate all you
have heard, all you have discovered. With my woman's wit I may be able
to help you in the way the mouse aided the lion. Begin!"
Jen was astonished, both at her peremptory tone and her quiet manner.
Whatever influence had been at work, it was certainly wonderful how
she had calmed down from the nervous, hysterical girl into the
reasonable and cool-headed woman. Isabella noted the amazement of the
major, and guessing its cause, she explained the reason of the change
in her looks, manner and nervous system.
"Dr. Etwald cured me, major," she said quietly.
"He has preserved my sanity, and I owe him a debt of gratitude."
"You certainly do," said Jen, dryly. "Will you repay it by marrying
him?"
"No. I shall marry no one; not even Mr. Sarby, much as my mother
wishes me to do so. I live only to avenge the death of Maurice, to
recover his body from those who have stolen it. Come, major, tell me
what you know."
Thus adjured, and feeling that he could not do without her assistance,
Jen related all that he had heard from Arkel, and also his own
personal experience with regard to the finding of the handkerchief
marked "M. D." Isabella heard him to the end in silence, her large and
shining eyes fixed upon his face.
When he paused, she pondered and finally spoke out.
"It would seem that you suspect Dido or my mother of having something
to do with the matter," she remarked coldly.
Major Jen equivocated.
"No," he replied. "I don't say that exactly, but you must admit that
the finding of the handkerchief bound round Jaggard's head is
strange."
"Not at all. Dr. Etwald used it as a bandage."
"So I understand; but did Dr. Etwald bring it to the house with him?"
"No. He picked it up in the bedroom."
"Precisely," assented Jen, eagerly. "Therefore your mother--"
"Had nothing to do with it," interrupted Isabella. "I dropped the
handkerchief in the room. Is there anything so very extraordinary in
that?" she added, impatiently. "The matter is very simple. I brought
with me one of my mother's handkerchiefs instead of my own. In the
agitation of finding the body gone I dropped it, and Dr. Etwald found
it to use as a bandage. That is quite plain, I think."
"Quite plain," agreed the major, "saving the presence of the perfume
similar to that of the devil-stick."
"I don't know anything about the devil-stick. I never saw it; but with
regard to the perfume I can explain. I was ill on that night, as you
know, and Dido applied some of her negro remedies; among them the
perfume with which that handkerchief of my mother's was saturated. It
was bound across my forehead to soothe the nerves. During my journey
to your house I snatched it off, and--"
"I can understand all that," interrupted Jen, "but the similarity of
the perfumes? I must have that point cleared up."
"I daresay it can be," said Isabella, quietly. "Come up to the house,
major, and speak to Dido. I feel sure she can explain."
"Very good," said Jen, as they turned their steps toward the house.
"If her explanation is only as clear as your own, I shall have nothing
to say. By the way, Miss Dallas, how did you escape from your room
that night?"
"So far as I can remember, I left by my bedroom window. I had only to
step out through it like a door, as it is a French window and opens
onto the lawn."
"H'm!" said Jen. "But seeing that you were so ill, was no one watching
beside you?"
"Yes, my mother was. So you see, major, she could not have dropped the
handkerchief in the bedroom of poor dear Maurice."
"No; I understand. You have explained the affair of the handkerchief
clearly. All the points have been elucidated save that dealing with
the perfume."
"You will now be satisfied on that point," said Miss Dallas, rather
dryly, "for here is Dido. She prepared the drug and perfumed the
handkerchief, and for all I know," added the girl, ironically, "she
may have taken the hint from your wand of sleep."