"He was not ignorant of that!" she said in a low voice. "To account for the fever which seized me, my mother explained all that took place to Dr. Etwald. He quite understood that I had dropped the handkerchief." "Did he apologize for his use of it before or after the explanation?" was Jen's final question. "After!" replied Isabella, with some hesitation; then abruptly left the major's side to exchange a few words with Dido. Jen, as was natural, looked after her with a glance full of doubt and suspicion. Notwithstanding her love for Maurice and her expressed desire to avenge his death by hunting down the assassin, she appeared to be anything but frank in the matter. In plain words, her conduct suggested to Jen's mind an idea that she knew more than she cared to talk about; and that such half-hinted knowledge implicated her mother. In which case--but here Dido interrupted Jen's meditations. "My missy tell me you wish to hear my Obi," she said, abruptly, fixing her eyes on the face of the visitor. "Why you wish? You laugh at Obi." "I don't particularly wish to learn your Voodoo secrets," answered Jen carelessly. "All I desire to know is why you manufactured that scent with which you saturated a certain handkerchief of your mistress." "Mother's handkerchief, Dido," explained Isabella, interrupting. "The one you bound round my head." "Oh, dat a Voodoo smell to drib away de evil spirit," said Dido, solemnly addressing herself more particularly to the major. "My witch-mudder, she learn to make dat in her own land--" "In Ashantee?" "Ho! yis. It berry strong, dat smell. Too much of it kill--kill--kill!" "By means of its odor?" "No, dat only drib away bad debbils. But you scratch de skin with one leetle bit of it, and you die, die, die!" "And the scratch is made by means of the wand of sleep?" "Yis. Dat so," said Dido, with pretended surprise, turning on him sharply. "But you no b'lieve in Obi, massa. What you know of de wand of sleep--de debble-stick?" "Because I had one, Dido." The negress laughed with scornful doubt. "Ho, dat one big lie. Der ain't de debble-stick but in de king's palace at Kumassi." "You are wrong. I had one, and it was stolen by--" "Why, of course," interrupted Isabella again. "Don't you remember. Dido, you were asked if you had taken it?" "Ho, yis. Now I do tink," said Dido. "Ah, massa, you say I took de debble-stick and made de new smell to fill him. Den dat I kill wid him massa, who lubbed lil missy, and dat I made spells in your house to steal de body. Heh, dat not so?" "It certainly is so," assented Jen, astonished to hear her put his suspicions into such plain words. "Mr. Alymer was killed by means of this poison. It was used again to render my servant insensible while the body was stolen. So I thought--" "I know, I know!" broke in Dido, impatiently. "But dat not to do wid me. De poison in your debble-stick." "There was; but it was all dried up."