A NINE DAYS' WONDER.
Great was the astonishment throughout the neighborhood when it became
known that Dr. Etwald, the clever physician of Deanminster, had been
arrested on a double charge of murder and theft of a dead body. Those
who did not like him--and they were the majority--rejoiced openly that
the assassin of Maurice Alymer had been found in Etwald's person; but
there were some that regretted that so brilliant a man should be
consigned to a felon's cell, and--possibly in the hereafter--to a
felon's doom. But whatever opinions, for or against the prisoner, were
held by the good people of Deanminster and the surrounding
neighborhood, there was no doubt of one thing: The trial of Max Etwald
at the assizes would be the great sensation of the year.
Major Jen worked hard to procure evidence against the prisoner, and
David Sarby worked just as hard to obtain materials for the defense.
The attitude taken up by the young barrister astonished everybody and
was universally condemned. That he--who might almost be called the
brother of the dead man--should defend the assassin of such brother
was almost incredible of belief. People were astonished and angered by
the very idea, and when that idea became known to be an actual fact
the conduct of David was disapproved of on every side. Only one man
said nothing, and that man was the very person who had the best right
to speak. While all talked, Major Jen remained silent. His reticence
on the subject caused almost as much scandal as David's inexplicable
conduct.
Yet Jen knew what he was about, and he was acting merely in accordance
with an agreement he had made with Sarby. After that memorable
interview in the library, when Etwald was accused and arrested,
Arkel took away his prisoner in custody by virtue of the warrant,
and left Major Jen alone with the counsel for the defense. The
assassin--so-called--and Inspector Arkel left the room; they left the
house. When the sound of Etwald's carriage--for he went to Deanminster
jail in his own brougham--had died away in the distance, Jen, who had
hitherto kept silence, raised his head and looked at David.
"Well, sir!" he said in an icy tone to his adopted son, "I am waiting
for you to explain this very extraordinary conduct."
David replied in equally as cold a manner.
"Major Jen, I have no explanation to give you."
"What!" cried his guardian, rising. "Do you dare to sit there and tell
me that you are a traitor, a coward, and an ungrateful man?"
"A traitor?" echoed David, with a flush rising in his pale cheeks.
"Yes, sir. A traitor to your foster-brother, who was your rival. It is
because Maurice loved the woman who hates you that you act the
unworthy part of defending his murderer."
"Very good, major; I understand why I am a traitor. But a coward?"
"You are a coward in submitting yourself to the influence of this base
assassin," cried Jen, enraged by the calmness of the young man. "And
as an ungrateful man--do you want an explanation of that term?--you
whom I have loved and brought up as my own son?"
"No. I can understand your anger from your point of view."
"My point of view! My point of view!" raged Jen, stamping. "From the
point of view of the world, sir! What will everyone say when they
learn that you intend to defend Etwald?"
"They will say almost as cruel things as you have said," returned
David, still composed. "But I do not care for the opinion of the
public. I act according to the dictates of my own conscience."
Jen drew back and stared at the young man in angry surprise.
"Your own conscience!" he repeated, in disdain. "How can you talk in
that manner? What excuse can you--"
"I have an excellent excuse," interrupted David, rising.
"What is it, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"I refuse to tell you--at present."
"Indeed! And am I ever to learn the reason of your extraordinary
behavior?"
David considered.
"Yes, major," said he at length. "You shall learn my reason--at the
trial."
"At the trial?"
"I shall explain it when I make my speech for the defense."
"What do you mean?" cried Jen, his curiosity getting the better of his
anger. "Is it possible that you believe in the innocence of this man?"
"As counsel for the defense you can hardly expect me to answer that."
"As your adopted father, I demand an answer."
"You shall have it, sir--at the trial."
The obstinacy and marvelous composure of the young man were not
without their due effect on Major Jen. He drew back, and after a few
moments' consideration, he spoke in all seriousness.
"David," said he, quietly, "there is something very extraordinary in
your behavior, and you refuse to give me your reasons therefor. If I
wait until the trial, will you explain?"
"Yes. I have already told you so. In my speech for the defense you
will be fully satisfied that I have good cause to act as I am doing."
"Very good," said Jen, calmly. "Then I shall say nothing to any one
about your very curious behavior. I shall work hard to secure the
condemnation of this scoundrel. You can do your best to save him. But
against you, or for you, I shall not open my mouth. At the trial I
shall expect an explanation."
"You shall have it."
"But," added Jen, raising his head, "as until that explanation we are
enemies--although not openly so--I shall require you to leave my
house."
"I expected that you would do so," rejoined David, bowing his head.
"Indeed, you can act in no other way. To-day I shall take lodgings in
Deanminster and wait for the trial. I shall defend Etwald to the best
of my ability, and then you can decide whether I am fit to re-enter
this house."
"I can't understand you, sir," said Jen, with a sigh. "Whatever your
reasons may be, I feel sure that I shall not approve of them."
"You approved of my reasons before, major. You shall approve of them
again. In the meantime, until the trial, let us remain strangers."
He bowed, and without offering his hand--which it is very probable
Major Jen would have refused to take--he left the room. When the door
closed the older man sank into a chair and passed his hand across a
brow moist with perspiration.
"There can be only one explanation," he muttered. "David is mad."
The result of this conversation was that David took up his residence
in Deanminster near the jail, and saw Etwald frequently about his
defense. The doctor assured him that he possessed sufficient power
over Dido, by reason of owning the Voodoo stone, to prevent her from
becoming a witness against him. Sarby was satisfied that if Dido did
not appear to give evidence the case for the prosecution would fall
through. She was the only witness of whom the barrister and the
prisoner had any fear.
On his part, Major Jen, together with Arkel, built up a strong case
against the man whom they fully believed to be the culprit. Search had
been made in Etwald's house, but no traces of the dead body could be
found. Its disappearance was almost as profound a mystery as the
reason which had induced Etwald to steal it. The reasons for the theft
of the devil-stick, for the murder of Maurice, were plain enough; but
what had induced the doctor to make away with the corpse no one could
discover. Etwald himself, even to his counsel, was silent on the
subject.
Arkel had sought out as witnesses against Etwald seven persons. First,
Mrs. Dallas, who was to prove that she was hypnotized frequently by
Dido. Second, Isabella, who was to depose that before the murder her
mother had been sent by Dido to "Ashantee" to steal the devil-stick,
while under the influence of hypnotism. Third, Battersea, who was to
give evidence that he had found the devil-stick within the grounds of
Mrs. Dallas. Fourth, Lady Meg, who was to prove the offer of Battersea
to sell her the stick. Fifth, Major Jen, who could explain the
engagement of the dead man to Miss Dallas and the rivalry of his
assassin. Sixth, Jaggard, whose evidence would tend to show that Dido
had drugged him for the purpose of stealing the body. And seventh, the
most important witness of all. Dido, who was to depose to the
manufacture of the poison, the refilling of the devil-stick, and the
giving of it to Dr. Etwald, so that he might perpetrate the crime.
With these seven witnesses Jen did not see how Etwald could escape the
gallows.
"Are you certain that all these people will speak out?" asked the
major of Arkel when the list was submitted to him.
"I am certain of all save one," replied Arkel, in a dissatisfied tone,
"and the worst of it is that Dido is the one."
"Does she refuse to give evidence against Etwald?"
"I should think so. Simply because he is the holder of the Voodoo
stone."
"Can we force her by threats to give evidence?" said Jen, angrily.
"I don't think so; it wouldn't be legal," answered Arkel. "The only
chance of getting the negress to confess to the whole truth is for
either you or I to gain possession of that stone."
"Where is it?"
"Etwald carries it on his watch chain. I saw him the other day in
prison and he showed it to me. A common little black stone it is, but
Dido would kill him with pleasure to get it."
"Kill Etwald!" ejaculated Jen. Then, after a pause, he added: "I
believe you are right, Arkel, for it is not the man himself she cares
about, but the stone. However. I'll see Isabella and make her persuade
Dido to speak against Etwald."
The major went at once to "The Wigwam," but, notwithstanding all his
eloquence, in spite of the tears and implorings of Isabella, the
negress positively declined to say a word against the Great Master.
"While dat big man hab de Voodoo stone I do notin'--notin'," she said.
And from this obstinate position they all failed to move her.
When Major Jen departed both Isabella and her mother were in despair.
Failing the proving of the crime against Etwald, accusations might be
made against Mrs. Dallas. And this result could be brought about by
Dido, did she choose; but the spell of the Voodoo stone was on her,
and she refused to say anything likely to inculpate its master.
"Why don't you get the Voodoo stone yourself, if you adore it so
much?" cried Mrs. Dallas, exasperated by this obstinacy.
Dido opened and shut her hand convulsively.
"Ah, if I hab dat Voodoo stone I be great; great--de queen ob de
debbles. But he no let it go."
"Go and see Dr. Etwald and tell him you will give evidence against him
unless he gives you the stone."
This suggestion came from Isabella, but of it Dido took no notice.
Without a word to mother or daughter, who were both in tears, she left
the room. In the afternoon she was nowhere to be found, and both Mrs.
Dallas and Isabella came to the conclusion that she had fled to avoid
being forced into giving incriminating evidence. They fell into one
another's arms and were beside themselves with terror. All the evil
done by Dido and Etwald seemed likely to fall upon their innocent
heads.
"Still there is hope," said Isabella, recognizing the occasion for
prompt action. "We shall speak to Major Jen and ask him to send the
police after this wretched woman."
This opinion was at once acted upon, and a messenger was sent to
"Ashantee," but Major Jen was from home, and it was not until six
o'clock that he presented himself at "The Wigwam" and heard the story
of Dido's flight.
"But she can't be very far away," said Jen, hopefully. "I saw her in
Deanminster, and thought she had gone there with a message from you."
"No, no," cried Mrs. Dallas, wringing her hands. "She will catch the
train there and go to London. Oh, why didn't you stop her?"
"I wish I had known," said Jen, rather dismayed to find his fine case
against Etwald breaking down. "But even if we had forced her into
court she would not have given evidence against the holder of the
Voodoo stone."
"Dat so?" said a hoarse voice at the door.
The three people turned and saw Dido, with an expression of triumph on
her dark face, enter the room.
"Dido!" cried Isabella. "You did not run away?" "No, missy. I tell de
truth against dat man."
"But the Voodoo stone?" said Jen, wondering what she meant.
Dido opened her clenched fist. The Voodoo stone lay in the palm of her
hand.