"Well, no!" replied the doctor, with wonderful coolness, "I did not expect that. If the worst came to the worst, I knew that I could protect myself; but I must admit that the confession of my counsel, Mr. Sarby, took me somewhat by surprise." "Poor David!" sighed Jen, thinking of the young man cut off in the bloom of his youth. "Poor David!" echoed Etwald, with a sneer. "Foolish David, you might say, to die for the sake of a woman." "Yet you risked death for the same woman." "I risked danger for the woman's fortune," retorted Etwald, with revolting candor. "It was the money I wanted. But death--no, I did not risk that." "I am not so sure of that, Etwald. How did you know that David would confess in so dramatic a fashion?" "I did not know it, major. As I said before, his confession took me by surprise. Still, as I was innocent, I knew that I could not be hanged." "Well," said Jen, growing weary of this long-continued conversation, which seemed to lead to nothing, "at all events you'll not escape a long term of imprisonment." "Why?" said Etwald, with an agreeable smile. "There are two opinions about that. Mine is that I shall go free. Then," he added, coolly, "I intend to seek Barbadoes and search for that black witch in order to recover the Voodoo stone." "I hope you'll get the chance of going, but I doubt it. However, if you do get as far as the West Indies you'll find friends there." "Really! Any particular friends?" "I don't know if you'll consider them so; but Mrs. Dallas and her daughter go back to their estates in Barbadoes within the month." "Really!" said Etwald again, "Then I may marry her after all." "She won't have you." "Oh, I think so. I have a means of compelling her to marry me." Jen jumped up with a scowl. "I'm tired of your enigmas," he cried, angrily. "What is it you wish to tell me?" "The name of the person who committed the murder." "I know it. David Sarby!" "Not at all. He accused himself to shield the real person." "To shield the assassin?" gasped Jen, thunderstruck. "And who is the assassin?" "Can't you guess from his self-accusation? Why, the woman he loved." "Isabella?" "Exactly. Isabella Dallas, and none other, killed your boy Maurice." CHAPTER XXIV. A FINAL SURPRISE. "Isabella killed Maurice!" said Jen, pushing back his chair. "Impossible, doctor. You must be mistaken." "I don't think so," replied Etwald, dryly. "I saw her do it. So did David." "You must be mistaken," insisted the major once more. "David was in London on the night when the crime was committed." "By his own confession in court, David was in the grounds of Mrs. Dallas on that night." "Yes, yes. You are right!" said Jen, in a bewildered tone. "Still, I cannot believe that Isabella killed Maurice. She loved him dearly, and had no reason to murder him." "None in the world. Yet she certainly took his life." "Why not?" said Etwald, coolly. "Mrs. Dallas had no reason to steal the devil-stick, yet--"