for some moments the two men looked at one another; and then major jen, seeing the necessity for prompt action, rang the bell. jaggard entered with military swiftness, and stared blankly at his master, who was pointing at the wall; an action inexplicable to the servant at that moment.
"where is the devil-stick?" demanded jen, wrathfully.
"the what, sir?" asked jaggard, doubtfully.
"the green stick with the gold handle which was placed among the weapons here. it is gone. what has become of it?"
jaggard advanced to the trophy of weapons, and examined them with some deliberation, after which he turned to face the irate major.
"it's gone sure enough, sir, but i don't know where."
"find out if any of the servants have taken it."
jaggard saluted and vanished, while his master walked up and down the room, fuming at the loss of the curiosity. he had all the talk to himself, for maurice, whose mind was busy with conjectures as to dido or dr. etwald being the thief, did not think it necessary to speak. in a few minutes jaggard returned with the news that none of the servants had been in the smoking-room that evening.
"who lighted the lamp?" demanded jen, sharply.
"i did, sir."
"we found the window open when we came in," said maurice. "did you open it?"
"yes, sir. the major told me to always air the room during dinner."
"do you think that someone has stolen the stick, maurice?" said the major. "someone from outside, i mean."
"i am sure of it," replied alymer, with decision.
"jaggard, did you notice that negress of mrs. dallas' about the grounds, since five o'clock?"
"why no, mr. maurice, i can't say as i did."
"the tramp then; battersea?"
"no, sir. haven't set eyes on him for a week."
"when you lighted the lamp it was eight o'clock?"
"about that, sir. i lighted it just after dinner, while you and the major were over your wine, so to speak, sir."
"and the room was in darkness--that is, comparative darkness--before then," mused maurice. "i don't think anyone could have seen the devil-stick unless the lamp was lighted. was it gone when you lighted up?"
"i didn't observe, sir!"
"very good, jaggard," broke in the major, "you can go. maurice!" he turned to the young man when jaggard left the room, "what do you mean by all these questions and examinations? do you suspect anyone?"
"yes," replied maurice, deliberately. "i suspect dido, the negress."
"why?" asked jen, with military brevity.
"it's a long story," returned maurice, lighting a fresh cigar. "look here, uncle jen, i went to dress at half-past six; you did also. when we left the devil-stick was in the room on the wall. now we are here again at half-past eight, the devil-stick is gone. in these two hours dido has had time to cross the lawn yonder and steal it."
"but why do you suspect dido?"
"because the room was in darkness, as you heard jaggard say. to steal that stick the thief must have known its position on the wall."
"well, dido didn't know that; she was never in this room."
"no, but dr. etwald was."
"dr. etwald! do you think he has anything to do with it?" queried jen, perplexed and a trifled startled.
"i am certain of it," replied maurice. "he employed dido to steal it from you, as you refused to sell it. listen, uncle, and i'll give you my reasons for this belief," and then maurice told succinctly all that had taken place at the wigwam during the afternoon.
major jen listened quietly, and waited until maurice ended his story before he spoke. the information about mrs. dallas and her reference to himself did not surprise him so much as alymer expected it would do. in fact he only made one brief remark upon this point.
"i am sorry mrs. dallas said that," he remarked, when maurice paused in his narrative.
"but what does she mean by it. uncle jen? didn't you wish me to marry isabella?"
"i am neither for nor against," replied jen, enigmatically. "as i said before, let the girl marry who she loves best."
"she loves me best."
"in that case i am sorry for david," retorted the major.
"so am i," rejoined maurice, promptly. "all the same, you can hardly expect me to give up to david the girl i love, and who loves me. but why does mrs. dallas support david's suit?"
"ask her to explain that, my dear lad."
"i did so, and she referred me to you."
major jen wriggled uneasily in his seat, and carefully knocked the ash off his cigar. he disliked telling what appeared to him to be a silly story, but as such story bore strongly upon the present position of things, and as maurice was impatiently waiting to be enlightened, jen was forced to put his scruples on one side and speak out.
"if what i relate appears impossible don't blame me," he said, abruptly, "and i feel certain that you will laugh when i tell you about voodoo!"
"that word again!" cried maurice, in a puzzled voice. "dido used it when we met etwald; she repeated it to me before i left. voodoo! voodoo! what does it mean, uncle jen?"
"african witchcraft! obi! fetish worship! the adoration of the bad spirit who catches mortals by the hair. any one of these things explains the meaning of the term."
"h'm!" said maurice. "it is devil-worship, pure and simple."
"yes, and mrs. dallas knows more about it than is good for her."
"but you don't mean to say that she believes in it!"
"my boy," jen laid his hand upon the arm of the young man, "when you reach my age you will find that there is no limit to the credulity and folly of human beings. when i was stationed in the barbadoes many years ago i met mrs. dallas."
"oh! so she is an old friend of yours?"
"yes. i knew her in the west indies shortly before isabella was born. it was through knowing me," explained the major, "that she came to this neighborhood and rented the wigwam. you see, maurice, i was one of the few people she knew in england, and she remained near me for company's sake, and"--here the major hesitated--"and because she was afraid of herself," he finished significantly.
"i don't quite understand."
"i shall explain, and it is lucky for you that mrs. dallas gave you permission to ask me for an explanation, otherwise i should have been forced, from a sense of honor, to hold my tongue. as it is, i can tell you; mrs. dallas fears that if isabella marries anyone but david her death will take place."
"whose death? isabella's or mrs. dallas'?"
"the latter. you must know, maurice," continued the major, "that mrs. dallas, though well born and well married, is an extremely ignorant woman. she was brought up mostly by dido's grandmother, who was the most accursed old witch in barbadoes, or out of it for the matter of that. this old hag instilled into the mind of mrs. dallas all kinds of superstitions in which she really believes. when the grandmother died dido became nurse to isabella, and private witch of the dallas household. she is clever--wonderfully clever--and she has continued her grandmother's system of terrorizing both mrs. dallas and isabella."
"yes; i can see that. uncle jen, and it is for that reason i want to marry isabella, and take her away before her mind is degraded further by that old fury."
"well, the old fury sees what you want, my dear lad, and so she is determined that isabella shall marry david and not you. to accomplish her aims she went through some hocus-pocus of devilry, or fortune-telling, or incantation, and discovered that if isabella marries you, mrs. dallas will die."
"and does mrs. dallas believe that rubbish?" asked maurice, incredulously.
"implicitly! i tell you she is ignorant and superstitious. come what may, she is convinced that your marriage with isabella means her own death; so you may rest assured, maurice, that she will never, never accept you as her son-in-law."
"i understand," said maurice, with a shrug. "it seems hopeless to contest this decision of a diseased and feeble mind. i can understand dido stopping my marriage, as she wants to retain her sinful influence over isabella; i can understand mrs. dallas, weak and silly, being dominated by this negro jezebel; but i can't understand why david is chosen as the future son-in-law. if he marries isabella, he will no more put up with dido than i should have done."
"of course not; i can't explain the reason," repeated jen, shaking his head. "but you know all that i know, maurice; and you can see that it is hopeless for you to attempt to marry the girl."
"i'm not so sure of that," retorted maurice; "i love isabella, and come what may i intend to make her my wife."
"but what about me?" said a voice outside the open window; "what about me?" and a moment later david, in dusty riding-dress, stepped into the room. he looked disturbed and angry, and his strongly marked face bore traces of agitation and haunting thoughts.
disturbed by the unexpected appearance of david, and seeing from his expression that he was bent upon making himself disagreeable, jen hastily interposed to prevent a quarrel between the two young men.
"what, david, back again!" he said, ignoring the question asked by sarby. "so you did not stay to dinner?"
"no," replied david, shortly. "i didn't!" he flung himself into a chair and resumed in a significant tone, "lady seamere didn't ask me, and if she had i couldn't have accepted in this dress. besides, i am not the man whom she delights to honor. now if maurice had been there, lady meg--"
"for heaven's sake don't couple my name with lady meg's," interrupted maurice, sharply. "you know quite well--"
"yes i do," rejoined david, interrupting in his turn. "and so does she!"
"what do you mean?"
"what i say. it's no use your assuming that innocent air, maurice. you have not treated lady meg well!"
"i have! how dare you say such a thing? lady meg knew that i was in love with isabella."
"oh!" said david, with a sneer. "i overheard you arrange to marry her. but you'll never do that while i am alive, or mrs. dallas either."
"i know that mrs. dallas is on your side, and i know the reason."
"then you know more than i do," retorted sarby. "i told mrs. dallas that i loved isabella and she said that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to see us married."
"you shan't marry her!" cried maurice, angrily rising.
"i shall!" said david, and rose also.
"boys! boys!" said jen, annoyed at this quarrel, "do not be so positive. if you are both in love with the same woman, let the woman decide."
"she has decided!" said alymer, sharply. "she loves me."
"i don't care two straws about that," said david, coldly. "i have not spoken to her yet, but all the same i intend her to become my wife. i give you fair warning, maurice, that you are not to poach upon my preserves."
"your preserves. confound your insolence!"
"upon my word, david," said jen, seeing that maurice could hardly speak for rage, "you go too far. the girl loves maurice and not you; and it would be much more honorable for you not to press your suit."
"i don't care two pins for honor, major! i love isabella, and i intend to marry her. but become the wife of maurice she never shall; i'd rather see her married to etwald."
"the third richmond who is in the field," scoffed maurice. "well, he has as good a chance as you. dido supports his pretensions; mrs. dallas is your champion. as for me, i have the love of isabella, so i'm afraid of nothing."
"are you not?" said sarby, with a peculiar smile. "remember what etwald said about your life-in-death!"
"i don't believe in that rubbish, david, and i should be very sorry to think you did."
"as to that, i don't care about discussing the point," was the reply. "our own beliefs are our own business. but i must say that etwald is a dangerous man, both to you and to me."
"i daresay," replied maurice, coolly. "the more so, as i believe he has stolen the devil-stick."
"what!" david made a step forward and stared at the wall. his face was quite pale, and his hands trembled in spite of his efforts to control himself.
"the devil-stick gone!" he said, turning on his heel. "both you and i must be careful, maurice."
