"Dido, you wouldn't like to see me the wife of Dr. Etwald?" "Yes, missy. Him berry big great man!" "But I hate him!" "Um! He lub you. He told ole Dido so." "He seems to have been very confidential," said Isabella, scornfully, "and from what I have seen, Dido, he has some influence over you." "No," said the negress. But while her tongue uttered the denial, her eyes rolled uneasily around the lawn, as though dreading some invisible presence. "No, missy. Dido a great one, you know. She no 'fraid ob dat doctor; but him big man, missy; you marry him." "No, no, no! I would rather die. I love Maurice." "You nebber marry him, missy. Nebber, nebber!" "How do you know?" "I make de spell. I know. De spell say dat doctor, he marry you!" This time Isabella burst out into a girlish laugh of genuine amusement. "The spell seems to know more about me than I do myself," said she, contemptuously. "I don't believe in your spells, Dido. I know from Maurice that they are nonsense!" "You take care, missy! Obi! dat not nonsense!" said Dido, in a threatening tone. "What does Dr. Etwald say about it?" Dido looked sullenly at the fire. "I no hear him say anytink about Obi," she replied; "but de spell; it say you marry dat man and no de yaller-ha'r." "Well, Dido, we shall see. And now--" She never finished what she was about to say, for at that moment Dido stretched out one arm, and uttered one name, "Batt'sea!" Across the lawn there crept a wizen, gray-haired little man, with a cringing manner. He was white, but darkish in the skin, and there was something negroid about his face. This dwarfish little creature was a tramp, who had become a pensioner of Isabella's. He had attached himself to her like some faithful dog, and rarely failed to present himself at least once a day. What his real name was nobody knew, but he said that he was called Battersea, after the parish in which he had been reared as a foundling. Battersea was cringing, dirty, and altogether an unpleasant object to look upon; but Isabella was sorry for the creature, and aided him with food and a trifle of money. It may be here mentioned that Battersea, although he knew nothing of Obi, was terribly afraid of Dido. Perhaps some instinct in the negro blood--for he undoubtedly had something African in his veins--made him fear this unknown priestess of fetish worship. "Well, Battersea," said Isabella, kindly, "how are you to-day?" "Very well, lady, very well, indeed. I met Mr. Alymer, and he gave me half a crown." "That was generous of him. But why?" "Because I said that a certain lady was--" "Now, now," laughed Isabella, "no more of that nonsense, Battersea." She turned and ran along the veranda into the house. The tramp and the negress were alone. "What de doctor say?" asked Dido, in a low-voiced whisper. "Two words. The devil-stick!" The negress started and threw up her hands in surprise. CHAPTER IV. VOODOO! VOODOO!