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Arkel spoke too hopefully, for Dido was never caught. She was too clever to give the police a chance of laying hands on her. Like a stone cast into a wide ocean, she disappeared from Deanminster--from England, no doubt, and possessed of the Voodoo stone, possibly took her way back to her native "Ashantee," there to become the high priestess in the horrible fetish worship of Africa. The windows remained dark, and the only sounds on the quiet side street were the wind in the wet trees and the sizzle of the arc light above her head. "But how do you know it isn't David's?" persisted Judith, as she gathered up her letters. "We never asked David when his birthday came, did we?".
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"By what right do you say that?" demanded Maurice, sharply. "Etwald carries it on his watch chain. I saw him the other day in prison and he showed it to me. A common little black stone it is, but Dido would kill him with pleasure to get it." "But if you--" Groans of relief sounded from the side of the room whence the voice had come, and there was a general giggle..
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