make-up, while the erstwhile little girl hastily blackens his face and hands, puts on a negro wig, and in less than a minute is changed in colour, race, and ***.He 'gets round' left and enters the sick room as 'Uncle Tom' with 'Topsy.' They are both told that 'Little Eva' is asleep, and 'Topsy' peeps cautiously between the curtains and remarks that the child's eyes are open and staring.
The father looks in and, overcome by grief, informs the audience that his child is dead.'Topsy,' tearful and grief-stricken, 'gets off' right and washes up to 'do' 'Little Eva' climbing the golden stair in the last tableau.Meanwhile 'Uncle Tom,' in a paroxy** of grief, throws himself upon the bed and holds the stage till he smells the red fire for the vision; then he staggers down stage, strikes an attitude; the others do likewise; picture of 'Little Eva,' curtain.Talk about doubling 'Marcellus,' 'Folonius,'
'Osric,' and the 'First Grave Digger'! Why, that's nothing to these 'Uncle Tom' productions.But hold on, where did I get side-tracked?
Oh, yes, the dogs.
"Well, as I was saying, as soon as I thought of Burwell I made up my mind at once to borrow one of his hounds.It was late when I got to his house.When I knocked at the door both Pompey and Caesar began sub-bass solos of growls, and Burwell was awake in a minute.
I told him I wanted a dog for private business and took Caesar off with me.He found the trail with no difficulty, and followed it in a bee-line down to the water, where he raised his big muzzle and howled in dismal impotency.The assassin had taken to the water.
I took the dog up and down the shore to see if he had returned to land, but all I found of interest was a clump of alders from which a pole had been cut.I knew by the dog's actions that the assassin had been there, for Caesar immediately took a new trail back to the house.Try as I might I could learn nothing further, and I at once returned the dog.There is no doubt that the murderer made his escape in a boat and took with him the pole he had cut, the boards he had worn, and everything else, I dare say, connected with his crime.One thing seems clear, and that is that we are dealing with no ordinary criminal.I would wager a good deal that this fellow, if ever he is caught, will be found to be a man of brains.I don't place much confidence in the Chinese theory, Doc, but as I have nothing better to offer, let us go see Miss Darrow.If her father has ever had any dealings with Chinamen, we shall probably deem it wise to look the Orientals up a bit."We immediately acted upon this suggestion, waiting upon Gwen at my house.She said she and her father had spent a year in San Francisco when she was about seven years of age.While there their household was looked after by two Chinese servants, named Wah Sing and Sam Lee.The latter had been discharged by her father because of his refusal to perform certain minor duties which, through oversight, had not been set down as part of his work when he was engaged.So far as she knew no altercation had taken place and there were no hard feelings on either side.Sam Lee had bade her good-bye and had seemed sorry to leave, notwithstanding which, however, he refused, with true Chinese pertinacity, to assume the new duties.She did not think it likely that either of these Chinamen had been instrumental in her father's death, yet she agreed with Maitland that it would be a point gained to be assured of this fact.Maitland accordingly determined to depart at once for San Francisco, and the next day he was off.
We received no letters from him during his absence and were, accordingly, unable to tell when he expected to get back.Since his return from India Gwen had given evidence of a reviving interest in life, but now that he was again away, she relapsed into her old listless condition, from which we found it impossible to arouse her.
Alice, who did her utmost to please her, was at her wit's end.She could never tell which of two alternatives Gwen preferred, since that young lady would invariably express herself satisfied with either and did not seem to realise why she should be expected to have any choice in the matter.Alice was quite at a loss to understand this state of affairs, until I told her that Gwen was in a condition of semi-torpor in which even the effort of choice seemed an unwarrantable outlay.She simply did not care what happened.She felt nothing, save a sense of fatigue, and even what she saw was viewed as from afar, - and seemed to her a drama in which she took no other part than that of an idle, tired, and listless spectator.
Clearly she was losing her hold on life.I told Alice we must do our utmost to arouse her, to stimulate her will, to awaken her interest, and we tried many things in vain.
Maitland had been gone, I think, about three weeks when my sister and I hit upon a plan which we thought might have the desired effect upon Gwen.Before her father's death she had been one of the most active members of a Young People's Club which devoted every Wednesday evening to the study of Shakespeare.She had attended none of its meetings since her bereavement, but Alice and I soon persuaded her to accompany us on the following week and I succeeded, by a little quiet wire-pulling, in getting her appointed to take charge of the following meeting, which was to be devoted to the study of "Antony and Cleopatra." When informed of the task which had been imposed upon her Gwen was for declining the honour at once, and the most Alice and I were able to do was to get her to promise to think it over a day or so before she refused.
