"Der noting wrong, missy," said Dido, eagerly. "I swear--"
"Don't," cried Isabella, with a shudder. "You have done enough evil. Do not add perjury to your other sins."
She ran hastily into the house, as though to escape further conversation on a distasteful subject, while Dido, with her eyes on the ground, remained in deep thought. The old negress knew that she was placed in a perilous position, which might be rendered even more so should Isabella speak freely. But of this she had little fear, as by her conversation with Major Jen the girl had gone forward on a path of concealment whence there was now no retreat. Yet Dido was not satisfied. She did not trust those around her, and she was uneasy as to what might be the result of Jen's pertinacity in investigating both the death of Maurice and the disappearance of the body. Thus perplexed it occurred to her to seek out and consult with Dr. Etwald.
"I shall tell the master all!" she muttered in her own barbaric dialect, "and he will tell me what to do. The spirit in the Voodoo stone will tell him." Having come to this resolution she went into the house to ask, or rather to demand, permission to visit Deanminster. That she was about to call upon Etwald, the negress did not think it necessary to tell Mrs. Dallas. There were matters between her and the doctor of which Mrs. Dallas knew nothing, which she would not have understood if she had known. When she inquired, Dido merely hinted that such secrets had to do with Obi, when the superstitious nature of Mrs. Dallas immediately shrank from pursuing an inquiry into what were, even to this civilized so-called Christian woman, secret mysteries.
But while Dido goes on her dark path and takes her way toward Etwald in his gloomy house at Deanminster, it is necessary to return to the doings of Major Jen. On leaving The Wigwam he returned forthwith to his own house with the intention of repeating to David the conversation which had taken place between himself. Dido and Isabella. On his arrival, however, he learned that David had gone out for a walk, and that Lady Meg Brance was waiting for him in the library. At once the ever-courteous major hastened to apologize to his visitor.
"My dear Lady Meg, I am so sorry to have been absent when you called. I hope you have not been waiting long!"
"Only half an hour," replied Lady Meg, in a low, grave voice. "I should have waited in any case until your return, as I have something important to say to you."
The major looked inquiringly at his visitor. She was a tall and stately woman, with a fair complexion, steady blue eyes and hair of a deep red shade. Although close on twenty-five years of age, she was still a spinster, as much to the annoyance of her mother--a match-making matron--she had hitherto declined the most eligible offers for her hand. Her reasons for such refusals she would not state, but Jen, from certain observations, had long since guessed the truth. Lady Meg was deeply in love with Maurice Alymer, and it was for his sake that she remained single. Whether she knew that the young man loved Isabella Dallas it is impossible to say; but at all events she showed him very plainly the drift of her desires. The very indifference of Alymer had rendered her passion more violent and persistent. What would have been the conclusion of this one-sided love it is difficult to conjecture; but the death of Maurice had brought this and all other things to an abrupt conclusion.
Lady Meg was dressed in black out of regard for the dead man, and she looked worn, red-eyed and very dejected. But in coming forward to greet the major, her fine blue eyes lighted up with the fire of hope, and it was with something of her old impetuosity--quenched since the death of Maurice--that she gave him her hand and repeated her last remark.
"I have something to say to you," she said, quickly. "Something likely to help you in your investigations."