THE DEVIL-STICK THIEF.
This long conversation had somewhat exhausted Jaggard, who was yet
weak, so, telling him to cease from talking, Jen recalled the
housemaid, and left the room to think over all that he had learned.
The story of Jaggard convinced him more than ever that Dr. Etwald was
the cause of all the terrible events which had occurred within the
last few weeks. Without doubt it was he who had treacherously hidden
Dido in the chamber of death. After drugging Jaggard, the negress no
doubt had opened the window to admit Etwald, and between them this
precious pair had carried off the dead body. But for what reason? This
Jen could not determine.
To learn the truth, he thought it advisable to call at "The Wigwam"
and interrogate Dido. With the evidence of Jaggard to go on, the
major felt satisfied that he could by threatening her with arrest,
force her into confessing the whole nefarious plot. Who had thieved
the devil-stick? Who had slain Maurice? Who had stolen the body?
Undoubtedly, Etwald was the villain who was guilty of all three
crimes, and the evidence of Dido would be sufficient to convict him of
the deeds.
"Yes," said Jen to himself that night, as he retired to bed, "to-day I
have learned sufficient to implicate Etwald; to-morrow I shall be able
to convict him. Dido must confess or go to prison."
Angered by the selfish way in which David had acted, Jen did not
communicate his discoveries to the young man. During the night he took
counsel with himself, and the next morning he acted upon the plans
which he had formed. These were, to see Dido and force the truth from
her, to send Battersea to Deanminster to fetch both Arkel and Dr.
Etwald to "Ashantee," and finally to communicate his discoveries to
the inspector and get him to arrest Etwald. Once in prison, and the
doctor, intimidated by a fear of death at the hands of justice, might
confess his crimes, and his reasons for committing them. This
straightforward course was the only one to pursue.
After breakfast, therefore, the major wrote two notes. One for Arkel,
asking him to be at "Ashantee" by noon, as the writer had important
matters to discuss; the other for Etwald, requesting him to call and
see Jaggard, who, added Jen, significantly in the letter, had
recovered his senses. Having thus prepared his trap for the doctor to
walk into, Jen delivered the letters to Battersea, with instructions
to set off at once for Deanminster. The tramp, anxious to keep in
favor with Jen for cupboard reasons, lost no time in departing, and
when the major had seen him safely out of the gates, he took his way
toward "The Wigwam" for the all-important interview with Dido.
Before his departure he had left a message for David, who had not made
his appearance at breakfast, requesting the young man to be in the
library at noon.
"If I can force the truth out of Dido," thought Jen, strolling slowly
along in the hot sunshine, "I may get the better of Etwald. Then, when
David sees that the doctor is in the trap, and in danger of arrest for
murder, he may relate what he knows. Though upon my word," considered
the major, frowning, "I don't see what information he can possibly add
to what I have obtained from Jaggard, or what I am likely to wring
from the unwilling lips of Dido. Etwald is the guilty person. David
can tell me no more than that."
On arriving at "The Wigwam," Jen presented his card, and was shown
into the drawing-room, there to wait the arrival of Mrs. Dallas.
Although it was nearly eleven o'clock the indolent Creole was not yet
out of bed, but on hearing that the major had called to see her, she
sent Dido to inform him that she would shortly accord him an
interview. The negress, as gloomy and sullen as ever, delivered this
message with folded arms and bent head. Then, without even a look at
him, she turned to leave the room, when Jen placed himself between her
and the door.
"Not yet. Dido," he said, in a cold voice. "It is true that I called
to see your mistress; but I wish to speak to you also."
Dido started, and cast an inquiring look at the impassive face of the
white man.
"What you wish, sah?" she said, in a grave voice, as emotionless as
that of Jen's.
"To ask you a few questions about the devil-stick."
"Massa, I say all I know ob de debble-stick!"
"Indeed, you did not. Dido. You did not inform me that by Dr. Etwald's
directions you filled the devil-stick with poison, or that you steeped
the handkerchief found in the room of Mr. Alymer in the same poison
for the purpose of drugging my servant; or again, that you concealed
yourself under the bed, and afterward drugged him."
A kind of terror showed itself in the dilated eyes of the negress. She
could not understand how Jen had become possessed of a knowledge of
her crimes, and at first was struck with stupor by the recital.
Speedily, however, she recovered herself, and with a dark smile of
contempt and pity she was about to deny all, when Jen brought out his
last accusation.
"Nor," said he, fixing his eyes on the woman, "did you confess that
you opened the window of Mr. Alymer's room, and aided Dr. Etwald to
carry away the dead body?"
"De--de--dead--dead!" she stammered, shrinking back.
"Yes, the dead body of Mr. Alymer, which you and Dr. Etwald took to
his house at Deanminster. No denial, woman," said Jen, raising his
voice, as she was about to speak. "I see by your face that you are
guilty."
Dido trembled all over, whether from rage or fear Jen could not
determine, and opened her mouth to give the lie to her accuser. Then
she shut it again, as a heavy step was heard outside the door. A
moment later and Mrs. Dallas, with a face expressive of astonishment,
was standing on the threshold of the room; and Dido at her feet was
making the room resound like a jungle with howlings like those of a
wild beast. All the savage nature of the woman was now on the surface,
and had broken through the sullen restraint of her impassive demeanor.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Mrs. Dallas, with an uneasy
glance at the frantic negress.
"I shall explain when Dido stops her howling," said Jen, quite
undisturbed.
"Dido! Dido!" remonstrated Mrs. Dallas, shaking the woman. "Rise;
stop."
"Oh, missy! missy!" wept the negress, getting onto her feet. "It all
am a lie, what dat massa say. Poo' ole Dido know nuffin'--do nuffin'.
Lordy! Lordy! de big lie."
Major Jen took Dido by the shoulder, and giving her a good shake,
commanded her to be silent. At once the negress--who was evidently
acting a part--ceased her outcries, and after casting her eyes
significantly at her mistress, stared sullenly at the floor. Mrs.
Dallas turned pale at this rapid glance, and was obliged to take a
seat to prevent herself from falling. Not a detail of this by-play was
lost upon Jen, who saw in the conduct of mistress and servant a
confirmation of his suspicions. However, he added nothing to his
previous speech, but merely recapitulated--for the benefit of Mrs.
Dallas--the points of his accusation against the negress. Dido heard
him in silence, but this time she made neither outcry nor denial.
Mrs. Dallas appeared to be horrified by the recital. Every now and
then she cast a look of terror at Dido, while passing her handkerchief
over her white lips. When the major concluded she could only shake her
head and stammer a few words.
"It can not be true," she murmured. "It is impossible."
"It is a fact," insisted Jen. "I have the evidence of Jaggard to prove
that Dido was in the room on that night."
"Dido," cried Mrs. Dallas, in a trembling voice, "is this true?"
The negress raised her wild eyes slowly to the face of her mistress.
What she saw therein evidently determined her reply. Without a word
she bent her head.
"Ah," cried Jen, "you admit your guilt?"
"No," said Dido, bluntly, "I say dat I in de room, but I no kill dat
man."
"But you filled the devil-stick with fresh poison?"
"No," said Dido again. "I saw no debble-stick."
"It was found in these grounds."
"Dat so; but I not see dat debble-stick."
"Woman," cried Jen, with energy, "no one but you could manufacture the
poison with which the devil-stick was filled."
"Dat I know; but I no fill de debble-stick."
"Then who did?"
Dido hesitated, looked at Mrs. Dallas, and came out with a lie.
"I don't know," she said, in a stolid tone.
Her mistress rose to her feet and approached the major.
"Do you mean to say that Dido killed Mr. Alymer?" she asked,
nervously.
"No; but she supplied the means to the man who did."
"The man who did!"
"Yes; Dr. Etwald."
"Dr. Etwald!" repeated Mrs. Dallas, in what seemed to Jen to be a tone
of relief. "Why do you think he killed Mr. Alymer?"
"Because Maurice was engaged to your daughter, whom he wished to
marry. Etwald killed my poor lad, so as to remove a dangerous rival
from his path."
"Impossible."
"By no means; and Dido manufactured the poison which was used."
Mrs. Dallas considered.
"I know to what you allude," she said, after a pause. "Dido does
manufacture the drug, but only for the cure of nervous headaches."
"Or to kill men with," rejoined Jen, ironically; "or to drug the
watchers of the dead."
"The watchers of the dead!" echoed Mrs. Dallas, with a start.
"Well, let us say my servant, Jaggard. He was drugged by Dido, and she
stole the body, or rather she aided Etwald to do so."
"Dido, is this true?"
"Yis," said the negress, coldly; "de great massa told me to do dat."
"The great master," repeated Jen; "you mean Dr. Etwald?"
"Yis. Dat so."
"He took away the body of Mr. Alymer, and you helped him?"
"Yis."
"Why did you steal the body?"
Dido shrugged her shoulders.
"Ask de great massa."
"Where did you take it to?" demanded Jen, baffled in one direction and
trying another.
"Ask de great massa," said Dido once more.
"The law will do that."
"The law, Major Jen?" said Mrs. Dallas, alarmed.
"Yes. I intend to have Dr. Etwald arrested."
"You dare not. Why?"
"On three charges. First, that he thieved the devil-stick; second,
that he killed Maurice; and third, that he stole the lad's body."
Mrs. Dallas fell back on the sofa, with a white face. Dido laughed in
a guttural fashion, and shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
"Voodoo!" she said, and laughed again.
The major guessed that she meant that African witchcraft would avert
disaster from Etwald, and at once flung the word back in her face.
"Voodoo will not help the doctor," said he, quietly. "This is a
civilized country, and we who inhabit it are above being influenced by
such degrading superstitions. You believe in Voodoo; in Obi; let us
see if such things will protect you."
"Do you mean that Dido is in danger of arrest?" cried Mrs. Dallas, in
a terrified tone.
"Certainly, as the accomplice of Etwald."
"But she did not kill Mr. Alymer."
"She filled the devil-stick with the poison which was used to kill
him," retorted the major, coldly, "and she confesses to having aided
him in stealing the body."
"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Dallas, casting a haggard look around. "All is
lost."
"Are you alluding to Dido?" demanded Jen, rather surprised at her
tone.
Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a
look, and raised her head proudly.
"Yis. It ole Dido," she said. "But ole Dido not lost. Dat great massa,
he look after ole Dido."
"If you mean Dr. Etwald, he will have enough to do to look after
himself. Well, Mrs. Dallas, as I have learned what I wished to know, I
shall now take my leave."
"You go to ruin us," wept Mrs. Dallas.
"No," said Jen, in an inflexible voice. "I go to punish the man who
killed my boy."
Without another word he left the room. His last glance showed that
Dido had gathered her sobbing mistress in her arms, and was staring
after him in a defiant manner. At the front door Jen heard his name
called softly, and Isabella, with a rich color in her usually pale
cheeks, came flying after him.
"Major, major, I have heard all! I have been listening at the window."
"Then you know that I am aware of your deception about the
handkerchief?"
"Yes. I did not speak truly," stammered Isabella, "but I could not act
otherwise. It was to save a certain person."
"Dr. Etwald?"
"No, not Dr. Etwald, but the person who stole the devil-stick."
"Ah! you know who committed the first of the crimes," cried Jen,
seizing the young girl's arm. "Confess. It was Dr. Etwald who stole
the wand of sleep."
"No! no! It was--it was--"
"Dido?"
"Not Dido. Oh!" cried Isabella, in a tone of anguish, "it was my
mother."