FURTHER EVIDENCE.
Major Jen recoiled from the young girl in amazement.
"Your mother," he muttered, hardly believing the evidence of his own
senses. "Your mother stole the devil-stick?"
"Yes; but she did not know what she was doing!"
Jen frowned.
"That is impossible!" he said, positively. "Quite impossible!"
"No! no! Wait! Listen!" said Isabella, much agitated. "I told you
falsehoods before to shield my mother. Now that I know that you have
discovered so much, that you are bent on punishing Dr. Etwald, I must
tell you the truth, so that she may not be dragged down to ruin. But
not here--not here: my mother may see us--and Dido," the girl
shuddered. "Dido, of whom I am afraid. Come with me, major. Quickly!"
Without glancing toward the house Isabella ran down a secluded path
which led through a kind of shrubbery to the flower-garden, and then
disappeared into a light cane summer-house, constructed in the Chinese
fashion, and which was overgrown with greenery. Major Jen followed her
as rapidly as his more mature age would permit him; and as he
hastened, he felt a wild thrill of delight that at last he was about
to hear the truth. That it should be told to him by so unexpected a
person as Isabella Dallas, was not the least strange part of this
strange affair.
"Major," she said, when somewhat out of breath he had taken his seat
beside her in the summer-house, "although I relate what inculpates my
mother, it is to save her that I do so. Both she and I are in a net
woven by Dido."
"Ah! poor Maurice always mistrusted that negress!"
"He was right to do so. Oh, you do not know what a terrible woman she
is. For years both I and my mother have been under her influence; and
have submitted to her will. Now, I see her in her true colors, and I
am determined to speak the truth. Save myself and my mother, major;
for we are innocent. Dr. Etwald and Dido are the guilty persons."
"They killed Maurice!"
"Yes. I am sure of it."
"They stole the body?"
"I can swear they did," said Isabella, with emotion.
"Why did you not tell me of this before?" asked the major.
"I have only been certain of these things since our last interview. I
lied to you then because Dido said if I told the truth she would
accuse my mother of the murder."
"I see," said Jen, thoughtfully, "and I can understand their motives.
Dido wished you to marry Etwald."
"Yes; and it was to force my mother into compliance with that desire
that the whole of these crimes were committed. Dido--"
"One moment, Miss Dallas. What influence has Etwald over the negress?"
Isabella shuddered.
"He is the possessor of the Voodoo stone," she said in a low voice.
"The Voodoo stone," echoed Jen, much puzzled. "And what may that be?"
"It is a small black pebble of a peculiar shape," explained the girl,
"and it was brought from Africa to Barbadoes over a hundred years ago.
The negroes believe that a spirit dwells in this stone, and that when
it is worshiped the indwelling devil can work woe to those against
whom the possessor of the stone bears malice. You can have no idea how
this talisman is venerated by all the blacks; they will go miles to
look on it, to adore it; they would burn down a city to possess it; to
gain it they would murder a hundred human beings. Well, Dr. Etwald was
in Barbadoes some years ago, and he gained possession of this Voodoo
stone. He has used it while here to intimidate Dido. While he holds it
she will not dare to disobey him, and all this plotting and
assassination designed to bring about my marriage with Dr. Etwald, has
been designed by him, and carried out by Dido, solely on account of
his ownership of the Voodoo stone. You know that she calls him the
'great master!' Well--now you can guess the reason for her service
worship of this man."
"Yes," assented Jen, turning his sharp eyes on Isabella, "and you--do
you believe in this Voodoo stone also?"
"No. When I was a child I did, and I fancy that my mother also had
some belief in it. Brought up among the negroes of Barbadoes both she
and I imbibed the superstitions of the black race; but now we have no
faith in such follies. For my part," added the girl, anxiously, "I
should be glad to get rid of Dido, seeing that with Dr. Etwald and his
malignant influence of the Voodoo stone, she is dragging us toward
disgrace; but my mother still clings to her as an old servant, and
will not let her go."
"I see. And about the theft of this devil-stick?"
"Oh, on the night it was stolen, I was seated on the veranda after
dinner, and I saw my mother come out with Dido. They did not know I
was there, as I sat in the shade. I saw Dido speak to my mother and
point toward your house. Then she waved her hands before my mother's
face, whereupon my mother turned and walked swiftly past where I was
seated. I saw her face; it was quite white, and her eyes were open and
glassy. She--"
"In a word," interrupted Jen, "this black witch had hypnotized Mrs.
Dallas."
"Yes; but I did not know that until later on. When my mother
disappeared Dido re-entered the house. At once--terrified by my
mother's action--I ran down the little path which leads to the gate
and followed her out onto the road. She went into your grounds by
the postern in the wall. I saw her cross the lawn, and enter the
smoking-room, wherein a lamp was burning. When she came out it was
with the devil-stick in her hand. I recognized it by the golden
handle. I reached home before she did, and again hid on the veranda.
Dido reappeared as my mother came up the walk, and took the
devil-stick from her. Then she led her indoors."
"And what did you do?" asked Jen, much interested in this strange
history.
"I went in later on, and found that my mother had gone to bed. I said
nothing at the time as I was afraid of Dido. Afterward, when Maurice
was killed, and you said that the devil-stick had killed him, I went
to Dido and accused her of the crime.
"She was fearfully angry and warned me that if I said a word about the
theft of the devil-stick I would be in danger of hanging my own
mother."
"What!" cried Jen, jumping up, "did Dido accuse your mother of the
crime?"
"To me, yes. To my mother, no. Afraid lest such an accusation should
kill my mother, who is not strong as you know, I said nothing to her,
or indeed to anyone. I told a lie to you to save my mother; what else
could I do? But now I tell you the truth, and I wish you to protect us
both against the evil of Dido and Dr. Etwald."
"You believe that Dr. Etwald killed Maurice?"
"I am sure of it. When I became ill through the terror of the secret
which I possessed. Dido prepared that poison under the pretense of
curing me, but I now know that she did so to refill the devil-stick.
She then sent it to Etwald, and he killed Maurice. Also he stole the
body with the assistance of Dido."
"Why should this pair of wretches steal the body?"
"I know no more than you do," said Isabella, with great despondency.
"But now. Major Jen, you can understand my not speaking the truth at
our last interview."
"Yes, and I honor you for it," said Jen, kissing her hand. "But tell
me one thing. Why did you make that midnight visit?"
"Well, I was not quite myself, major, in the first place; and in the
second I missed Dido!"
"On that night?" asked Jen, eagerly.
"Yes. I was ill, as I have said, and my mother was watching by my
bedside. Usually it is Dido who does so. I asked my mother about Dido,
and she said that Dido had asked permission to go out for the
evening."
"To see Dr. Etwald, I suppose?"
"No. I thought so at first, but one of the servants who brought me a
cup of tea late at night told me that Dido had gone to your house to
offer her services in laying out the body of my dear Maurice."
"Oh!" said the major, suddenly recollecting what had taken place. "I
remember her visit; but she gave as her excuse that you wanted to see
me."
"One of her lies," said Isabella, vehemently. "I did not know she had
gone to your house until the servant told me. Then when I remembered
how the devil-stick had been stolen I was afraid lest Dido should be
contriving further mischief. Although it was late I could not rest in
my bed. I tossed and turned with my brain burning with the fever. I
felt that I must learn what was taking place at your house. My mother
left me about two o'clock in the morning quite worn out with her
watching. Then I rose, put on a dressing-gown, and escaped by the
window. I reached your library at three o'clock. You know the rest."
"Yes," assented the major, with a nod, "and I know that, as you
imagined. Dido was up to some mischief. She stole the body with
Etwald; but why? why?" muttered Jen, in perplexed tones.
"I cannot guess," said Isabella, for the second time. "But now that I
have told you all, major, what do you intend to do?"
"Return to my house and see Etwald!"
"Is he there?"
"I expect him at noon along with Inspector Arkel. Then I may force the
truth out of him. Certainly I shall have him arrested on suspicion of
murder."
"And Dido!"
"I shall take no steps concerning her at present," said Jen, glancing
at his watch, "especially as there is no fear of her leaving the
neighborhood."
"No!" replied Isabella, interpreting the major's thought. "While the
Voodoo stone is with Dr. Etwald she will not leave the place where he
is staying."
"In that case, she will have to live in Deanminster jail; for
there---as sure as I am a living man--Etwald shall find himself before
another twelve hours are over his head. And now, my dear young lady,"
added Jen, rising, "I must leave you, to keep my appointment with the
scoundrel. Do not speak of our conversation to anyone!"
"You can depend upon my silence," said Isabella, who held out her
hand.
Major Jen shook it in his usual kindly manner, and moved a step toward
the door of the summer-house. All at once he paused and looked back.
"One moment, Miss Dallas!" he said, quickly. "Does David know about
the theft of the devil-stick? That is," he added more precisely, "does
he know that your mother stole it?"
Isabella considered.
"I cannot be quite certain if he does!" she said, after a pause, "but
I fancy he has some idea of it. When he has seen me of late he has
always been so nervous and silent. At our last meeting, also, he told
me that we were to fear nothing."
"H'm!" said Jen, reflectively. "Undoubtedly you are right. Miss
Dallas. David must have learned the truth in some way; but I cannot
imagine how. Well, good-by, good-by. I shall see you later on when we
have this scoundrel under lock and key."
The major hurried off, leaving Isabella alone in the summer-house. He
walked on slowly, notwithstanding that it was past the hour he had
appointed to meet Arkel and Etwald. His thoughts were busy with what
Isabella had said concerning David's knowledge of the trick.
"Undoubtedly he believes that Mrs. Dallas killed Maurice," thought
Jen, "and that is why he refuses to confess to me. He said that I
would be the first to blame him for telling all he knew, and as he is
under the delusion that Mrs. Dallas is guilty, I understand now the
reason of his silence. Also he said that he would never marry
Isabella; which shows that he is afraid of becoming the husband of a
woman whose mother has committed a crime. Poor boy, how he must
suffer; and after all I must say that I approve of his honorable
silence. But!" added the major to himself, "when he knows that Mrs.
Dallas is innocent and that Etwald is guilty, he will then be able to
marry Isabella!"
On consideration Jen thought it would be best to say nothing definite
to David about his discovery. If the young man, from a feeling of
honor toward an unhappy woman, kept silent, the major was the last
person in the world to tempt him to break it. Jen decided to merely
hint to David that he knew the truth, and let the arrest of Etwald
tell its own tale, and unseal the lad's lips, by showing that Mrs.
Dallas was innocent. As Jen came to this conclusion, he entered his
own gates, and rather to his surprise, he saw David, considerably
agitated, advancing to meet him.
"Inspector Arkel and Dr. Etwald are waiting for you in the library,"
said Sarby, rapidly.
"I know it. I sent for them."
"You sent for them?"
"Well, why not? I wish the first to arrest the second."
"Arrest Dr. Etwald! On what grounds?"
"On the grounds of having murdered Maurice," said Jen, coldly. "Yes,
you may look astonished, David, but it is the truth. Without your
assistance I have discovered that Etwald is guilty. Also," added the
major, in a kindly tone, "I know the reason of your silence."
"Of ray silence?" echoed David. "You know the reason?"
"Yes, and I honor you for it."
"Who--who--told you?" stammered the young man, as pale as death.
"Miss Dallas."
"Isabella! My God!" David looked terrified.