Evidently there was an understanding between these two strange creatures, and thereby an occult connection with the ideas and doings of Dr. Etwald. What the trio were plotting against Isabella and her lover remains to be seen; but it can be guessed easily that the message of the devil-stick carried by Battersea to Dido was of some significance.
Battersea himself knew nothing of its esoteric meaning, but to the negress the mention of the emblem conveyed a distinct understanding. She let her arms fall listlessly by her side, and, with an unseeing gaze, she stared at the green trees bathed in hot sunshine. After a moment or so she muttered to herself in negro jargon and clenched her hands.
"Baal! the wand of sleep! the bringer of death!"
"What are you saying, Dido?" asked Battersea, his feeble intellect scared by the fierce gestures and the unknown tongue.
"I say deep things which you no understan'. Look at ole Dido, you white man."
Battersea whimpered, and, rubbing one dirty hand over the other, did as he was requested with manifest unwillingness. With an intensity of gaze, Dido glared at him steadily, and swept her hands twice or thrice across his face. In a moment or so the tramp was in a state of catalepsy, and she made use of his spellbound intelligence to gain knowledge. There was something terrible in her infernal powers being thus exercised in the full sunlight, in the incongruous setting of a homely English landscape.
"De debble-stick! Whar is it?"
"In the house of Major Jen. In a little room, on the wall, with swords and axes."
As he said this in a monotonous tone, Dido looked across the tree-tops to where the red roofs of "Ashantee" showed themselves against a blue July sky. She shook her fist at the distant house, and again addressed herself imperiously to Battersea, commanding:
"Tell ole Dido ob de debble-stick."
"It is green, with a handle of gold, and blue stones set into the gold."
Dido bent forward and touched the tramp on his temples.
"See widin dat stick," she muttered, eagerly. "I wish to see."
"There is a bag in the handle," repeated Battersea, with an effort. "Under the bag a long needle;" then after a pause, "the needle is hollow."
"Is dere poison in de bag, white man?"
"No, the poison is dried up."
"Is dere poison in de hollow ob de needle?"
"No," said Battersea again. "The poison is dried up."
At this moment a noise in the house disturbed Dido, and with a pass or two she released Battersea from the hypnotic spell. He started, rubbed his eyes, and looked drowsily at the tall negress, who had resumed her impassive attitude.
"What have you been doing. Dido?" he asked, stupidly.
"Obi!" was the brief reply. "You hab told ole Dido what she wish about de debble-stick."
"The devil-stick," repeated the tramp, in wide-eyed surprise. "S'elp me, I don't know anything of it. Dr. Etwald met me, and ses he: 'You go to Miss Dallas?' and I ses, 'I does;' and he ses, 'You'll see Dido,' and I ses, 'I will;' and he ses, 'Say to her "Devil-stick,"' an' I ses, 'Right y'are, sir.' But es to knowing--"
"Dat nuffin!" said Dido, with a lordly wave of her hand. "I black; you hab de black blood in youse also. I mek you do Obi. Um!"
"What's Obi? What's you torkin of?" asked Battersea, rather nervously. "An' ow does yeou know I hev black blood?"
"Obi say dat to me. Your mudder black."
"Yah!" cried Battersea, derisively. "You're out of it. My mother white; but my father--" here he hesitated, and then resumed: "Yes, you're right. Dido; my father was a negro! A Seedee boy, who was a fireman on a P. and O. liner."
"I hab seen dat," replied Dido, nodding her head. "Black blood in youse, an' I can do Obi on you. I send your spirit to de house of Massa Jen. You tell me ob de debble-stick."
Battersea drew back and began to whimper again.
"I knows es you wor at that devilry," he said, nervously. "When you claps your eyes on me I gets afeard."
"Dat's so. But I take care ob you. Now get to de kitchen; dere am food for you."
The old man's eyes brightened in anticipation of a feast, and he shuffled off round the corner as quickly as his age would allow him. Dido looked after him for a moment, considering the message he had brought from Dr. Etwald, and then began to think of the devil-stick.
She knew very well what it was, for her grandmother had been carried off as a slave from the west coast of Africa, and knew all about Ashantee sorcery and fetish rites. These she had repeated to her granddaughter Dido, with the result that Dido, cherishing these recollections, knew exactly how to use the wand of sleep. She had spoken about it to Dr. Etwald, quite ignorant that Jen kept one as a curiosity, and now Etwald had intimated through Battersea that he wished her to do something in connection with the stick. What that something might be Dido at the present moment could not guess.
She had exerted her magnetic and hypnotic influence over Battersea, not that she wished for a detailed description of the wand, for already she knew its appearance, but because it might happen that it would be necessary to use the tramp for certain purposes connected with the discovery of secrets. Dido exercised a strong influence over this weak old creature, partially on account of his half negro blood and partially because she had terrified his feeble brain by her dark hints of Obi worship.
Battersea was supposed to be a Christian; but the barbaric fluid in his veins inclined him to the terrible grotesqueness of African witchcraft, and Dido and her words stirred some dim instinct in his mind. The negress saw that accident had placed in her way a helpless creature who might be of use in her necromantic business; therefore, by hypnotizing him once or twice, she contrived to keep him within her power. All of which fantasy would have been denied by the average British newspaper reader, who can not imagine such things taking place in what he calls euphoniously a Christian land. But this happened, for all his denial.
Having dismissed Battersea, the negress turned to seek Isabella. She was so devoted to her nursling that she could hardly bear to be away from her, and since her infancy Isabella had scarcely been absent an hour from her strange attendant. The girl had gone into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Dallas was still sleeping; and there, relieved for the moment from the prying eyes of the negress, she took a letter out of her pocket. It was from Maurice, stating that he was coming to see her that afternoon at three o'clock, as he had something particular to say.
It was now close upon the hour, and Isabella was wondering how she could get rid of Dido, whom she did not wish to be present at the coming interview. The inborn jealousy of the woman, and her advocacy of Dr. Etwald's suit, made her an unpleasant third at such a meeting. Moreover, Maurice instinctively disliked this sullen creature, and was never quite easy in her presence.
Finally, Isabella decided to slip round by the back of the house and meet Maurice at the gate. Dido was occupied in questioning Battersea about the devil-stick on the verandah. So, after a glance to assure herself that the pair were in earnest conversation, Isabella put on a straw hat and ran lightly away to see her lover. She passed out by a side door, danced like a fairy across the intervening space of lawn, and slipped laughingly into the narrow path which wound through the wood to the avenue near the gates.
Just as she emerged into the open she heard a sharp click, and saw Maurice approaching. He was dressed in his flannels, and looked particularly handsome, she thought; the more so when she beheld his face lighting up at her unexpected appearance. The magnetism of love drew them irresistibly together, and in less time than it takes to write, Isabella was lying on the broad breast of her lover and he was fondly kissing her lips.
"My own dear love," he murmured, softly. "How good of you to meet me."
"I came down here to escape Dido," explained Isabella, slipping her hand within his. "You don't like her to be with us."
"I don't like her in any case, my darling. She is like a black shadow of evil always at your heels. I must get your mother to forbid her trespassing upon our meetings."
"My dear Maurice, how can you possibly do that, when you refuse to tell my mother of our engagement?"
"Oh, I had a reason for keeping our engagement secret, but it is no longer necessary, and to-day--at this moment--I am going straight to ask your mother to give me this dear hand in marriage. If she consents, we will soon get rid of Dido."
"But my mother may not consent," said Isabella, a trifle nervously.
"Why not? I have a profession and a small property. We love one another dearly, so I don't see what grounds she has for refusal."
"Dido!"
"Well, Dido can do nothing," said Maurice, in a jesting tone, "unless you want her to forbid the banns."
"She may even be able to do that," replied Isabella, seriously. "My mother is afraid of her, and is often influenced in her decisions by Dido."
"What, the black witch? Bah! She is only a servant."
"She is something more than that in Barbadoes."
"Oh, you mean that Obi rubbish, my dearest," said Maurice, slipping his arm round the slender waist of the girl. "It is on that very account that I wish to tell your mother of our engagement, for I must rescue you from the influence of that dark Jezebel. She is dangerous."
"I know she is; but she hates you."
"I don't care for her hate," replied Maurice, carelessly. "It is a poor thing, and can not possibly harm me. But I mean to extricate you from her toils, and I don't care how she attempts to prevent our marriage. Surely Mrs. Dallas will not let herself be guided in so important a business by the will and feelings of that black wench."
"My mother is weak where Dido is concerned," said Isabella, shaking her head.
"And so are you, my dear," responded Maurice, kissing her. "Both of you are weak and have yielded up your wills to that woman. But the announcement of our engagement will give me some influence in the house and do away with all that. It will be a fight between white and black magic, and I, as a civilized wizard, intend to win."
"Why do you particularly wish to announce our engagement to-day?"
Maurice grew serious, and paused at the top of the drive, just out of sight of the house, to reply to this question.
"My dear child," he said slowly, "I kept our engagement secret on account of David. I have seen for a long time that he loves you, and knowing his fiery temper, I did not wish to provoke a quarrel by telling him that you had promised to be my wife. But last night the truth was forced from me at dinner, and David declared that he intended to ask you to marry him."
"But I don't love him. I love you!"
"I knew that, but he didn't. He knows now that we love one another, but he is ignorant that we are engaged. When the fact is publicly announced, he may give up his idea of marrying you, and so a quarrel may be averted."
"Are you afraid of quarreling with him?"
"Yes. Not on my account, but it distresses our good major to see us at variance. We nearly quarreled over you last night, though, upon my word," added the young man half to himself, "I believe Etwald promoted the row."
"Etwald!" repeated Isabella. "Dr. Etwald?"
"Yes; he is in love with you."
"I know he is," replied the girl, quietly. "But, of course, I could never be his wife; the more so, as I fear him. But Dido wishes me to marry him."
"Oh, hang Dido!" cried Maurice, vigorously. "I wish she would mind her own business."
At this moment, as if summoned by his remark, Dido appeared round the bend of the path. She looked straight before her, turning neither to right nor left, and passed the pair like one in a sleeping fit. The negress seemed to be under the influence of some strange excitement, and ran stumbling down to the gate.
"Voodoo! Voodoo!" she cried, hoarsely.
"Oh," said Isabella, nervously, "Dr. Etwald must be at hand. When Dido says 'Voodoo' he comes."
"When Dido says 'Voodoo' he comes," repeated Maurice, greatly puzzled. "Are you talking of Dr. Etwald?"
"Yes. He seems to possess some strange power over Dido, for she always knows when he is approaching. See, Maurice, Dido is waiting at the gate; in a few moments you will see Dr. Etwald enter it."
The two young people looked steadfastly at the brilliantly-colored figure of the negress, standing in a statuesque attitude near the great iron gate. On either side of her waved the summer foliage of the trees; overhead the sun, like a burning eye, looked down from a cloudless sky, and beyond, the dusty white road showed distinctly through the slender bars of the gate. All was bright and cheerful and English, but in that sinister red figure, with its black face and hands, there was a suggestion of evil which seemed to dominate and poison the whole beautiful scene. Maurice felt Isabella shudder with nervous dread as she pressed closely to his side.
"Dearest, you must not be afraid," said he, glancing down anxiously at her face. "You must throw off the terror you have of this woman. If the law--"
At this moment he broke off his speech with an ejaculation of surprise, for, true to the prognostication of Isabella--in answer to the expectant attitude of the negress--Dr. Etwald turned in at the gate.
"Ho! ho!" murmured Maurice, rather taken back. "So the art of devil-raising is not a lost one after all. Dido can still call spirits from the vasty deep."
"She has called flesh and blood," said Isabella, with a shiver. "But there is nothing strange about Dr. Etwald's appearance just now. Dido did not call him; she simply felt that he was at hand, and went to meet him at the gate."
They continued to watch the pair, and saw Dido throw herself at the feet of Etwald, who raised his hand over her in a threatening manner. He pointed into the wood with an imperious gesture, and in a slinking attitude the usually stately Dido passed out of sight into the little path down which Isabella had come to meet Maurice. When the gleam of her red dress disappeared Etwald wiped his face and walked briskly up the avenue toward the young couple.
"Shall we go on or wait for him here?" asked Isabella in a whisper.
"Wait," replied Maurice, in the same tone. "I shall not let him think that either of us is afraid of his charlatan tricks."
Dr. Etwald approached, with what was meant for a smile on his usually sombre face, and took off his hat to Miss Dallas. But he did not speak as he made his salutation, so the girl was forced, by reason of this uncomfortable silence, to make the first observation.
"Good-morning, doctor," she said, as he replaced his hat; "I suppose you have come to see my mother."
"Partly, Miss Dallas, and partly to see you; also this gentleman."
"To see me!" said Maurice, looking at his rival. "Then why did you not go to 'Ashantee?'"
Etwald shrugged his shoulders.
"I never give myself unnecessary trouble," he answered, calmly, "and, of course, I knew that I should find you here."
"By what right do you say that?" demanded Maurice, sharply.
"By the right of our conversation last night, Mr. Alymer. You have forestalled me, I see. No matter," added Etwald, with a sneer. "To-day to you; to-morrow to me."
All this was quite unintelligible to Isabella, who looked from one to the other of her companions in bewilderment, not guessing for the moment that she was the bone of contention between them. She saw the suppressed mockery on Etwald's face, and noted also that Maurice, roused by the quiet insistence of the doctor, had much difficulty in keeping his temper. Knowing how her lover disliked Etwald, and fearing lest there should be a quarrel between the two men, she cut the Gordian knot by hastily proposing that they should go up to the house.
At the same time she was afraid lest further trouble should occur therein, for it seemed to her that Etwald had paid this visit for the express purpose of making himself disagreeable.
However, he did not say anything further at the moment, but walked beside Isabella toward The Wigwam. Behind them Maurice strolled slowly, fuming and fretting at the attitude assumed by Etwald by the side of Isabella. She cast a backward glance at his frowning face, and to avert possible trouble she began hastily to question the doctor about the strange conduct of Dido.
"What was the matter with my nurse, doctor?" she asked. "What have you been doing to her?"
"She was agitated, my dear young lady, and I have calmed that agitation."
"After having previously caused it," said Maurice, in a significant tone.
The doctor looked at the young man calmly.
"What possible reason have you to make such an accusation?" he demanded.
"I think it is my fault," said Isabella, hastily. "I remarked that Dido was always agitated when you came to this house."
"I can explain that in a measure, Miss Dallas. If you remember I cured Dido of a bad nervous headache by hypnotic suggestion. Her mind, therefore, became habituated in responding to mine, and doubtless she feels a kind of impression which tells her that I am near."
"In other words," said Maurice, pointedly, "you have obtained an influence over her."
"It is not improbable," rejoined Etwald, in measured tones. "I am one of those people, Mr. Alymer, who can, by strength of will and power of character, obtain power over anyone I wish."
As he spoke, Etwald cast a sudden glance at Isabella. The girl was looking toward the house, out of which her mother had just emerged, and did not see the menace in his regard; but Maurice noted the gaze, and felt enraged at all it implied.
In plain words, Etwald intimated in a veiled manner that Isabella was a nervous subject, over whom he could obtain influence, if he so chose, by the unlawful means of hypnotism. This power Maurice was determined he should not gain, and by asking a direct question he tried to force Etwald into a confession of illegitimate practices. By this he hoped to warn Isabella, and make her afraid of trusting herself too much in the doctor's company.
"You have been in the West Indies, doctor?" asked Maurice, bluntly.
"I have been all over the world, Mr. Alymer," parried Etwald, dexterously.
"Do you know anything of Voodoo worship?"
"I know something of most things," assented the doctor. "But I confess I take but little interest in African barbarities."
"Oh, what about Dido and her meeting you?"
"I have explained that to the best of my ability," responded Etwald, coldly, "and now, Mr. Alymer, as our hostess is approaching you must excuse my replying to any further questions. If you want further insight into my character, call upon me at Deanminster."
"That I shall certainly do," said Maurice, for he was resolved to learn all he could about this strange man, so that he could protect Isabella from his arts.
"Ah," said the doctor, with irony, "we shall see if you will venture so far."
Before Maurice could take up the implied challenge, which threw doubts upon his moral courage, Mrs. Dallas advanced heavily to meet her visitors. Isabella had already flitted like a white butterfly into the drawing-room, and her mother received the two young men alone. Her reception was, as usual, ponderous and vague.
"So pleased to see you, Mr. Alymer. Dr. Etwald, I am charmed. It is a delightful day, is it not? Reminds one of Barbadoes."
"I have never been in Barbadoes," said Maurice, toward whom her languid gaze was directed. "But Dr. Etwald may be able to answer your question, Mrs. Dallas."
"I know the West Indian islands," observed Etwald as they walked into the house, "and this day does remind me a little of the climate there; but it is scarcely hot enough."
"No," murmured Mrs. Dallas, sinking into a large chair. "You are right. I have been in the sun all the morning, and only now am I beginning to feel warm, I shall certainly go back to Barbadoes."
Mrs. Dallas had made this threat so many times that nobody paid any attention to it, and, not expecting an answer, she began to fan herself slowly. Through her half-closed eyes she looked anxiously at the subtle face of Etwald. With the instinct of a woman she guessed that something important had brought the doctor to see her; he was not a man to waste his time on visits of ceremony.
Now Mrs. Dallas was secretly afraid of Etwald, as she had received hints from Dido, in whose truth she implicitly believed--that the doctor knew more about secret things than most people. She dreaded lest his visit should portend harm, and so, in some trepidation, she waited for him to speak. But Etwald, guessing her frame of mind, took his time and it was only when Isabella approached with some tea for her mother that he broke the silence.
"Don't go away, Miss Dallas," he said, entreatingly. "I have something to say to your mother which concerns you."
Isabella turned pale, for she guessed what was coming. As Etwald had raised his voice purposely, Maurice, who was standing by the tea-table, also pricked up his ears. Mrs. Dallas, with some curiosity, raised herself to look closer at Etwald and he, seeing that his auditory was attentive, prepared to launch his thunderbolt.
"My dear Mrs. Dallas," he said, in a soft voice, "you must have seen for a long time that my visits here have not been made without an object. To-day I come to ask you and your sweet daughter a question."
"What is it?" asked the mother, devoured by curiosity.
"Pray don't ask it," said Isabella, better informed by Etwald's glance as to his purpose. "It will only give you pain."
"I must risk that," said the doctor, slowly, "Mrs. Dallas, I love your daughter, and I wish to marry her. Miss Isabella, will you be my wife?"
Here Maurice set down his cup with a crash, and strode across the room, where he faced Etwald in no very pleasant frame of mind.
"I shall answer that question. Dr. Etwald," he said, loudly. "Miss Dallas shall not and can not marry you. She has promised to be my wife."
"Isabella!" said Mrs. Dallas, in an aggrieved tone. "Is this true?"
"Perfectly true," assented Isabella. "I love Maurice. I wish to marry him." And slipping her arm within that of her lover, she prepared to face the storm.
"You are a disobedient girl," cried Mrs. Dallas, making no attempt to control her temper. "You shall not marry without my permission. Mr. Alymer, I am astonished at you; I am disappointed in you. It is not the act of a gentleman to steal away the affections of my daughter without informing me of your intentions."
"I had my reasons for not doing so, Mrs. Dallas," replied Maurice, quickly. "But I was about to tell you of our engagement when Dr. Etwald forestalled me by making his unexpected offer."
"Unexpected, Mr. Alymer!" smiled Etwald. "After my statement last night?"
"Unexpected so far as time and place are concerned," said Maurice, firmly. "But as you have asked Miss Dallas to marry you, take her refusal from her own lips."
"Miss Dallas!" said Etwald, in no wise moved by this speech.
"Isabella!" cried her mother in an angry tone.
Isabella looked calmly at them both.
"I love Maurice. I intend to marry him," she repeated, and an obstinate expression came over her face.
"In that case," said Etwald, rising, "I must take my leave, and shall be content with that answer until such time as you are free; then," he added, coolly, "I shall ask you again."
"I shall never be free," said Isabella, proudly.
"Oh, yes, you will; when Mr. Alymer is dead."
"Dead!" shrieked Mrs. Dallas, all her superstition roused by the word. "Come away from that man, Isabella."
"Maurice dead!" repeated the girl, with a pale cheek.
The young man shrugged his shoulders.
"Pooh! pooh! some nonsense that Dr. Etwald was talking about last night," he added, contemptuously. "He says if I marry, it will be a case of life in death, whatever that means."
Etwald rose to his feet and stretched out a menacing hand.
"I have warned you, Alymer," he said, sternly. "Your marriage, after or before it, means life in death. Take care! Ladies," he added, with a bow, "I take my departure."
Outside Etwald found Dido waiting for him. He looked at her significantly.
"I have failed," he said. "There is nothing left but the devil-stick."
Maurice returned home after a somewhat stormy interview with Mrs. Dallas. For once the mother of Isabella was roused out of her habitual indifference, and she refused absolutely to accept Alymer as her son-in-law. In vain the lovers implored her to give some reason for her strange refusal, but beyond expressing a personal dislike for Maurice she declined to explain her conduct. The young man saw in this uncalled for behavior the hostile influence of Dido.
"It is because that black woman distrusts me that you object," he said, when Mrs. Dallas had talked herself hoarse. "I wonder that an English lady, a Christian and an educated person should be dominated by that uncivilized creature."
"Dido has nothing to do with my refusal," said the widow, coldly, "and although I take her advice in some things I do not in this. I do not wish Isabella to marry you, and I request you to leave my house--"
"Mother!" cried Isabella, with a pale face.
"And never come back to it again!" finished Mrs. Dallas, sharply.
Maurice went to the window of the room which opened on to the veranda and put on his hat.
"As a gentleman, I must accept your dismissal," he said, quietly; "but I decline to give up Isabella."
"And I," cried the girl, "swear to remain true to Maurice."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said her mother, violently. "I forbid you even to think of that young man. You shall marry whom I choose."
"Dr. Etwald, I suppose?"
"No. Mr. Sarby."
"David!" ejaculated Maurice, in an astonished tone. "You wish Isabella to marry him?"
"Yes. He loves Isabella much more than you do, and he asked permission--which you didn't--to pay his addresses to her. I consented, and so," Mrs. Dallas raised her voice, "he shall marry her."
"I refuse to marry Mr. Sarby," said Isabella, vehemently. "I hate him!"
"That is no matter," replied her mother, coldly. "You must marry him."
"Must!" repeated Maurice, with great indignation.
"Yes, Mr. Alymer. Must! Must! Must! If you want an explanation of that you can ask--" Here Mrs. Dallas paused with a strange smile and added slowly: "Major Jen."
"The major! My guardian!" cried Alymer, quite thunderstruck. "Is he against me?"
"Ask him."
"I don't believe it."
"Ask him," repeated Mrs. Dallas.
"Nor I," said Isabella. "The major is a kind man, and he wants to see me happy. He is--"
"That is enough," interrupted Mrs. Dallas, rising in a cold fury. "I want no further speeches from you. Go to your room, Isabella. Mr. Alymer, your way lies yonder," and with a swift gesture she pointed to the window.
Resigning himself to the inevitable, Maurice gave one glance at Isabella, and went outside with a heavy heart. Dido was standing upon the veranda with her eyes glowing like two coals. Yet there was an ill-concealed expression of triumph in her gaze, which Maurice, in his then disturbed and angered state of mind, could ill brook. He paused abruptly as he passed by her, and asked a direct question:
"Why do you hate me. Dido?"
The negress glared savagely at him.
"Voodoo!" said she, in a harsh voice.
"What do you mean by that jargon?" he demanded, in angry tones.
"Voodoo!" said Dido again, and showed her teeth in anything but a pleasant fashion.
"Bah! you black parrot!" muttered Maurice scornfully and turned upon his heel. As he vanished down the walk Dido clapped her hands together with great satisfaction and began to sing in low tones. Her song was barbaric in words and strange beyond all telling in the music. It rose and fell, and moaned and drawled, in a curiously painful manner. In the drawing-room Mrs. Dallas had risen to her feet at the first deep contralto note, and now stood rocking herself to and fro with an expression of alarm on her face. Isabella was terrified in her turn by Dido's song and her mother's strange conduct, though by this time she should have been used to these eccentricities.
"Mother, what is it? What does Dido sing?"
Mrs. Dallas, closing her eyes, continued rocking herself to and fro, saying but one word in answer.
"Voodoo!" she said, and that was all. But it was enough for Isabella. She shrieked and ran out of the room. Then Dido, still singing, appeared at the window, and looked at Mrs. Dallas with an expression of triumph.
"Why do you sing the death song?" asked Mrs. Dallas, opening her eyes,
"Because de master hab doomed dat yaller-ha'r," said Dido, and continued her song.
In the meantime Maurice walked slowly homeward, puzzling out in his own mind as to what could be the meaning of these strange things. He could not understand why Mrs. Dallas objected to him as a son-in-law; nor could he surmise the meaning of the mysterious word, "Voodoo," pronounced so significantly by Dido, However, he saw plainly that the negress was the disturbing element in the Dallas household, and by a half-hypnotic control over the weak will of her mistress, she could act as she pleased. The widow had been born and brought up in the Barbadoes. She was a half-educated woman of feeble intellect, and having been left during the time her mind and character were being formed solely to the society of black servants, she had imbibed--not unnaturally--many of the debased superstitions of Africa. Dido knew this, and by means of her claims to a knowledge of Obi, she was enabled to rule Mrs. Dallas, and also, as has been stated, to exercise a powerful influence over the plastic mind of Isabella.
"But I'll spoil her designs in that quarter," muttered Maurice, as his thoughts led him to this conclusion. "Isabella shall not be dragged down to the level of her mother. I shall marry her, and so destroy the influence of that vile negress."
This was easier said than done, as Maurice, simple and upright in conduct and character, was no match for the unscrupulous machinations of Dido. She hated the young man, and was determined that he should not marry her nursling. But whether she had, like Mrs. Dallas, a preference for David over Etwald, Maurice could not determine. The more he thought over affairs, the more incoherent and complicated did they become; so Alymer gave up the task in despair. Then it occurred to him that Mrs. Dallas had referred him to Major Jen; so to his guardian Maurice went the moment he arrived at the big house. But to his surprise, the major was not to be found.
"Major gone out, sir," explained Jaggard, to whom Maurice applied for information. "He got a message from Dr. Etwald, and went to see him. Be back to dinner, sir, I b'lieve."
"Where is Mr. Sarby?"
"Gone over to Brance Hall, sir."
"Ho, ho!" thought Maurice, as he turned away. "So David has gone to see Lady Meg and the countess. Now, if he is in love with Isabella, and Mrs. Dallas favors his suit, I wonder why he acts in that way?"
The question he could not answer, so dismissing it from his memory, he retired to the smoking-room with a pipe and a novel. When Jen and David returned he intended to question both, and, if possible, get to the bottom of these thickening mysteries.
"Hang it!" soliloquized Maurice over his book, "since yesterday everything seems to have gone wrong. That negress and Dr. Etwald are at the bottom of affairs. But I can't see their reasons for mixing things up so."
Then he laid aside his book to think, and through the smoke curling from his pipe he stared idly at the opposite wall. It chanced to be that upon which the barbaric weapons before alluded to were arranged, and conspicuous among them glittered the golden handle of the devil-stick. Recalling the mention of Voodoo, and Etwald's reference to African witchcraft, Maurice connected in his own mind the devil-stick with those barbarisms, and on the impulse of the moment he rose to examine the magic wand. Handling it carefully--for he dreaded the poison, although it was said to be dried up--he wondered if Dido could make use of it were it in her possession.
"I heard Mrs. Dallas say that Dido's people came from Ashantee," soliloquized Maurice, "so I have no doubt she can work the infernal thing. Perhaps she knows enough to fill the bag with fresh poison. If she did so, I wouldn't trust myself near her. She would be sure to experiment on me."
At this moment Major Jen, looking slightly worried, entered the room, and seeing the devil-stick in the hand of Maurice, he stopped short with an ejaculation of surprise.
"You are looking at that thing, Maurice?" said he, wonderingly. "Now that is strange."
"Why should it be strange?"
"Because I have just been talking about it with Dr. Etwald."
"Oh!" said Maurice, his thoughts flying back to the mysterious influence which he had seen Etwald exercise over Dido. "And what was the doctor saying?"
Major Jen threw himself into a chair and frowned.
"A great deal. He saw the devil-stick the other night--"
"Last night?"
"Yes, last night, and to-day he sent a note asking if I would ride over and see him this afternoon. I did so, and he then explained that he wished to buy that thing."
"The devil-stick? Why?"
"I can't say. He explained that he had been in the Barbadoes, and that he took a great interest in the subject of African fetish worship. He had heard of these 'wands of sleep,' as they are called, and greatly wished to obtain one, but he was unable to do so. Since seeing mine he has been seized with a desire to possess it."
"Why?" said Maurice again.
"As a curiosity, I suppose. I've told you all he told me. But I refused to sell it to him, and he seemed greatly vexed, a display of irritation which in its turn vexed me. I was quite annoyed when I left him."
"Why don't you wish to sell it, Uncle Jen?"
"Because it is a dangerous thing to handle. Although the poison is dried up, yet there may be enough in it to kill a man. If I parted with it and anyone was injured by it I should never forgive myself. Pray put it up, Maurice; I dislike to see you touch it. To-night, after dinner, I shall lock it up in a safe place. David is right; it should not be on the wall there."
"David has gone over to see Lady Meg."
"Yes. I don't think he will be back until after dinner," said Jen, rising. "So you and I had better sit down as soon as we are dressed. I am very hungry."
"Uncle Jen, I want to ask you something."
"What is it?" asked the major, pausing at the door.
"Do you wish David to marry Isabella Dallas?"
Jen hesitated.
"I really can't say," he said. "That is a matter which lies in the hands of the girl herself. If she likes you better than David--"
"She does."
"What! Have you spoken to her?"
"I have, and to Mrs. Dallas, who declines to sanction our engagement. She wants Isabella to marry David, and said--"
"I can guess what she said," interrupted Jen, hastily. "No more of this till after dinner, my dear lad. Then I'll explain all."
"Explain what?"
"Why Mrs. Dallas wants Isabella to marry David." Not another word would the major say on the subject at that moment, so Maurice was forced to seek his room in a very unsatisfied frame of mind. However, as he thought, here was one mystery about to be explained, and that was a comfort. As Jen prophesied, David did not return to dinner, and Maurice had a tête-à -tête with his guardian. But they talked of indifferent things, and it was not until they were once more in the smoking-room with cigars and coffee that the major consented to speak on the subject of Mrs. Dallas' strange conduct.
"Now, my boy, I'm ready to tell--" Here Jen stopped and looked blankly at the wall.
"What is the matter?" asked Maurice, in surprise.
"The devil-stick!" gasped Jen, pointing a shaking finger at the wall. "The devil-stick!"
Maurice looked--the devil-stick was gone!
For some moments the two men looked at one another; and then Major Jen, seeing the necessity for prompt action, rang the bell. Jaggard entered with military swiftness, and stared blankly at his master, who was pointing at the wall; an action inexplicable to the servant at that moment.
"Where is the devil-stick?" demanded Jen, wrathfully.
"The what, sir?" asked Jaggard, doubtfully.
"The green stick with the gold handle which was placed among the weapons here. It is gone. What has become of it?"
Jaggard advanced to the trophy of weapons, and examined them with some deliberation, after which he turned to face the irate major.
"It's gone sure enough, sir, but I don't know where."
"Find out if any of the servants have taken it."
Jaggard saluted and vanished, while his master walked up and down the room, fuming at the loss of the curiosity. He had all the talk to himself, for Maurice, whose mind was busy with conjectures as to Dido or Dr. Etwald being the thief, did not think it necessary to speak. In a few minutes Jaggard returned with the news that none of the servants had been in the smoking-room that evening.
"Who lighted the lamp?" demanded Jen, sharply.
"I did, sir."
"We found the window open when we came in," said Maurice. "Did you open it?"
"Yes, sir. The major told me to always air the room during dinner."
"Do you think that someone has stolen the stick, Maurice?" said the major. "Someone from outside, I mean."
"I am sure of it," replied Alymer, with decision.
"Jaggard, did you notice that negress of Mrs. Dallas' about the grounds, since five o'clock?"
"Why no, Mr. Maurice, I can't say as I did."
"The tramp then; Battersea?"
"No, sir. Haven't set eyes on him for a week."
"When you lighted the lamp it was eight o'clock?"
"About that, sir. I lighted it just after dinner, while you and the major were over your wine, so to speak, sir."
"And the room was in darkness--that is, comparative darkness--before then," mused Maurice. "I don't think anyone could have seen the devil-stick unless the lamp was lighted. Was it gone when you lighted up?"
"I didn't observe, sir!"
"Very good, Jaggard," broke in the major, "you can go. Maurice!" he turned to the young man when Jaggard left the room, "what do you mean by all these questions and examinations? Do you suspect anyone?"
"Yes," replied Maurice, deliberately. "I suspect Dido, the negress."
"Why?" asked Jen, with military brevity.
"It's a long story," returned Maurice, lighting a fresh cigar. "Look here, Uncle Jen, I went to dress at half-past six; you did also. When we left the devil-stick was in the room on the wall. Now we are here again at half-past eight, the devil-stick is gone. In these two hours Dido has had time to cross the lawn yonder and steal it."
"But why do you suspect Dido?"
"Because the room was in darkness, as you heard Jaggard say. To steal that stick the thief must have known its position on the wall."
"Well, Dido didn't know that; she was never in this room."
"No, but Dr. Etwald was."
"Dr. Etwald! Do you think he has anything to do with it?" queried Jen, perplexed and a trifled startled.
"I am certain of it," replied Maurice. "He employed Dido to steal it from you, as you refused to sell it. Listen, uncle, and I'll give you my reasons for this belief," and then Maurice told succinctly all that had taken place at The Wigwam during the afternoon.
Major Jen listened quietly, and waited until Maurice ended his story before he spoke. The information about Mrs. Dallas and her reference to himself did not surprise him so much as Alymer expected it would do. In fact he only made one brief remark upon this point.
"I am sorry Mrs. Dallas said that," he remarked, when Maurice paused in his narrative.
"But what does she mean by it. Uncle Jen? Didn't you wish me to marry Isabella?"
"I am neither for nor against," replied Jen, enigmatically. "As I said before, let the girl marry who she loves best."
"She loves me best."
"In that case I am sorry for David," retorted the major.
"So am I," rejoined Maurice, promptly. "All the same, you can hardly expect me to give up to David the girl I love, and who loves me. But why does Mrs. Dallas support David's suit?"
"Ask her to explain that, my dear lad."
"I did so, and she referred me to you."
Major Jen wriggled uneasily in his seat, and carefully knocked the ash off his cigar. He disliked telling what appeared to him to be a silly story, but as such story bore strongly upon the present position of things, and as Maurice was impatiently waiting to be enlightened, Jen was forced to put his scruples on one side and speak out.
"If what I relate appears impossible don't blame me," he said, abruptly, "and I feel certain that you will laugh when I tell you about Voodoo!"
"That word again!" cried Maurice, in a puzzled voice. "Dido used it when we met Etwald; she repeated it to me before I left. Voodoo! Voodoo! What does it mean, Uncle Jen?"
"African witchcraft! Obi! Fetish worship! The adoration of the bad spirit who catches mortals by the hair. Any one of these things explains the meaning of the term."
"H'm!" said Maurice. "It is devil-worship, pure and simple."
"Yes, and Mrs. Dallas knows more about it than is good for her."
"But you don't mean to say that she believes in it!"
"My boy," Jen laid his hand upon the arm of the young man, "when you reach my age you will find that there is no limit to the credulity and folly of human beings. When I was stationed in the Barbadoes many years ago I met Mrs. Dallas."
"Oh! so she is an old friend of yours?"
"Yes. I knew her in the West Indies shortly before Isabella was born. It was through knowing me," explained the major, "that she came to this neighborhood and rented The Wigwam. You see, Maurice, I was one of the few people she knew in England, and she remained near me for company's sake, and"--here the major hesitated--"and because she was afraid of herself," he finished significantly.
"I don't quite understand."
"I shall explain, and it is lucky for you that Mrs. Dallas gave you permission to ask me for an explanation, otherwise I should have been forced, from a sense of honor, to hold my tongue. As it is, I can tell you; Mrs. Dallas fears that if Isabella marries anyone but David her death will take place."
"Whose death? Isabella's or Mrs. Dallas'?"
"The latter. You must know, Maurice," continued the major, "that Mrs. Dallas, though well born and well married, is an extremely ignorant woman. She was brought up mostly by Dido's grandmother, who was the most accursed old witch in Barbadoes, or out of it for the matter of that. This old hag instilled into the mind of Mrs. Dallas all kinds of superstitions in which she really believes. When the grandmother died Dido became nurse to Isabella, and private witch of the Dallas household. She is clever--wonderfully clever--and she has continued her grandmother's system of terrorizing both Mrs. Dallas and Isabella."
"Yes; I can see that. Uncle Jen, and it is for that reason I want to marry Isabella, and take her away before her mind is degraded further by that old fury."
"Well, the old fury sees what you want, my dear lad, and so she is determined that Isabella shall marry David and not you. To accomplish her aims she went through some hocus-pocus of devilry, or fortune-telling, or incantation, and discovered that if Isabella marries you, Mrs. Dallas will die."
"And does Mrs. Dallas believe that rubbish?" asked Maurice, incredulously.
"Implicitly! I tell you she is ignorant and superstitious. Come what may, she is convinced that your marriage with Isabella means her own death; so you may rest assured, Maurice, that she will never, never accept you as her son-in-law."
"I understand," said Maurice, with a shrug. "It seems hopeless to contest this decision of a diseased and feeble mind. I can understand Dido stopping my marriage, as she wants to retain her sinful influence over Isabella; I can understand Mrs. Dallas, weak and silly, being dominated by this negro Jezebel; but I can't understand why David is chosen as the future son-in-law. If he marries Isabella, he will no more put up with Dido than I should have done."
"Of course not; I can't explain the reason," repeated Jen, shaking his head. "But you know all that I know, Maurice; and you can see that it is hopeless for you to attempt to marry the girl."
"I'm not so sure of that," retorted Maurice; "I love Isabella, and come what may I intend to make her my wife."
"But what about me?" said a voice outside the open window; "what about me?" And a moment later David, in dusty riding-dress, stepped into the room. He looked disturbed and angry, and his strongly marked face bore traces of agitation and haunting thoughts.
Disturbed by the unexpected appearance of David, and seeing from his expression that he was bent upon making himself disagreeable, Jen hastily interposed to prevent a quarrel between the two young men.
"What, David, back again!" he said, ignoring the question asked by Sarby. "So you did not stay to dinner?"
"No," replied David, shortly. "I didn't!" He flung himself into a chair and resumed in a significant tone, "Lady Seamere didn't ask me, and if she had I couldn't have accepted in this dress. Besides, I am not the man whom she delights to honor. Now if Maurice had been there, Lady Meg--"
"For heaven's sake don't couple my name with Lady Meg's," interrupted Maurice, sharply. "You know quite well--"
"Yes I do," rejoined David, interrupting in his turn. "And so does she!"
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. It's no use your assuming that innocent air, Maurice. You have not treated Lady Meg well!"
"I have! How dare you say such a thing? Lady Meg knew that I was in love with Isabella."
"Oh!" said David, with a sneer. "I overheard you arrange to marry her. But you'll never do that while I am alive, or Mrs. Dallas either."
"I know that Mrs. Dallas is on your side, and I know the reason."
"Then you know more than I do," retorted Sarby. "I told Mrs. Dallas that I loved Isabella and she said that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to see us married."
"You shan't marry her!" cried Maurice, angrily rising.
"I shall!" said David, and rose also.
"Boys! boys!" said Jen, annoyed at this quarrel, "do not be so positive. If you are both in love with the same woman, let the woman decide."
"She has decided!" said Alymer, sharply. "She loves me."
"I don't care two straws about that," said David, coldly. "I have not spoken to her yet, but all the same I intend her to become my wife. I give you fair warning, Maurice, that you are not to poach upon my preserves."
"Your preserves. Confound your insolence!"
"Upon my word, David," said Jen, seeing that Maurice could hardly speak for rage, "you go too far. The girl loves Maurice and not you; and it would be much more honorable for you not to press your suit."
"I don't care two pins for honor, major! I love Isabella, and I intend to marry her. But become the wife of Maurice she never shall; I'd rather see her married to Etwald."
"The third Richmond who is in the field," scoffed Maurice. "Well, he has as good a chance as you. Dido supports his pretensions; Mrs. Dallas is your champion. As for me, I have the love of Isabella, so I'm afraid of nothing."
"Are you not?" said Sarby, with a peculiar smile. "Remember what Etwald said about your life-in-death!"
"I don't believe in that rubbish, David, and I should be very sorry to think you did."
"As to that, I don't care about discussing the point," was the reply. "Our own beliefs are our own business. But I must say that Etwald is a dangerous man, both to you and to me."
"I daresay," replied Maurice, coolly. "The more so, as I believe he has stolen the devil-stick."
"What!" David made a step forward and stared at the wall. His face was quite pale, and his hands trembled in spite of his efforts to control himself.
"The devil-stick gone!" he said, turning on his heel. "Both you and I must be careful, Maurice."