"To be queen of the black witches of Obi, no doubt. Faugh!" "I am disgusted with her, too," said Mrs. Dallas, indorsing the major's exclamation. "So you ought to be, Mrs. Dallas, for Dido has been your evil genius. If you had not submitted to her will, she would not have dared to hypnotize you. If you had not been hypnotized on that night, you would not have taken the devil-stick, consequently both David and Maurice would still be alive. Your negress has been a perfect Até, Mrs. Dallas." "Major, major! Do not be too hard on me. I suffer--oh, how I suffer!" "And I also. Both my boys are dead, one by the hand of the other, and that other by his own hand. It is you and your daughter and Dido who have brought about these things. Go to Barbadoes, Mrs. Dallas, by all means. You and yours have done quite sufficient mischief in England." Just as Jen ended his speech and Mrs. Dallas was about to reply, the door opened to admit--Dr. Etwald. Both the major and the Creole stared at him in surprise, as neither for the moment could grasp the idea that he had been bold enough to present himself before those whom he had so deeply wronged. "Ah," said Etwald, as complacently as ever, "I thought I should find you here, major, but I hardly expected to see Mrs. Dallas." "You villain!" cried that lady, starting from her seat. "Do you think I want to see you after all the misery you have caused? Why, I refuse even to remain in the same room with you." And with a furious gesture the Creole swept past Etwald and out of the door, which she banged loudly. Etwald looked at the door, shrugged his shoulders, and turned politely to the major. "It is just as well she is gone," said he, quietly. "It is better that our conversation should be private." "I wish to hold no conversation with a scoundrel, sir," cried Jen, purple with rage. "Follow the example of Mrs. Dallas, if you please." Etwald looked round for a chair, selected the most comfortable, and sat down with great deliberation. "I never follow any one's example, major," he said, dryly. "It is always my custom to act independently." "I'll have you turned out of the house." "In that case you'll never hear what I have come to tell you." "What is that, sir?" demanded Jen, in a calmer tone. "The truth!" "Bah! I heard that in court." "Indeed you did no such thing," retorted Etwald, coolly. "My story is quite different to that of Dido." "David's was different also." "I know it. But my story--the true story, mind you--differs even from David's. Will you hear it, major, or shall I leave your house before I suffer the disgrace of being kicked out?"