"The girl is nervously excited," he explained; "and now that she has sustained this shock of Mr. Alymer's death there is no knowing what complications may ensue." "You don't think her life is in danger?" asked David, in a faltering tone. "No; but I fancy her reason is." Here Jen looked suddenly at Etwald, and recalled the dinner at which the doctor had read the dead man's hand. Then he had prophesied ill of Maurice--an ill which it would seem had been fulfilled. Now, with equal curtness, he was prognosticating evil for Isabella. Vexed at such croakings, Jen spoke abruptly: "You are a prophet of evil, Etwald," said he. "First my poor Maurice, now Miss Dallas." "As to that," replied Etwald, with deliberation, "I foretell that Miss Dallas may get ill from perfectly natural signs. She was in love with Alymer; she is of a highly excitable and nervous character, so it is easy to know that unless great care is exercised her brain may be affected." "But with regard to Maurice?" "Quite a different thing. I read in his hand that he would be subject to a state of life in death." "Which, as we guessed, meant paralysis or catalepsy," said David. "But, as you see, poor Maurice is dead. Your prophecy was false." Etwald shrugged his shoulders. "It would seem so," he assented. "Mr. Aylmer is dead, as you say; so the term life in death can not be applied to his present state of non-existence. But you will admit that I foretold that evil would happen to him if he decided to marry Miss Dallas. It has turned out as I thought." "True, doctor," remarked Jen, keeping his eyes fixed upon the swart face of the other, "and is that all you have to say?" "All? What else do you expect me to say?" demanded Etwald, coldly. "Say who you think killed Maurice." "That is beyond my powers." "Then who stole the devil-stick?" "I can't answer that question either," said the doctor, taking up his hat. "A detective may be able to assist you on those points. Engage one." "No," said Jen, linking David by the arm, "we don't need aid from the law to learn who killed Maurice and avenge his death. David and myself will find the guilty person." "Really! I hope you will succeed. But a case like this requires a trained intelligence such as you will find in a detective. Of course you may command my services, major, but I am afraid you will not succeed." "We shall see," replied Jen, who was as obstinate as a mule on some points. "I am no fool." "Certainly not," rejoined Etwald, with something like a sneer; "but you are also no detective." "That we shall see," retorted the major, vexed by the sarcasm, and thereupon gave Etwald to understand by look and manner that he wished to be alone with David. When the doctor had taken himself off, and was walking past the library windows toward the curve of the avenue where it ran into the woods, Jen looked after him with a lowering face, and laid an inquiring finger on David's arm. "Do you trust that man, my boy?" he asked, gravely.