He
was grateful; she had led him out of danger, and perhaps saved him from
death, but he shuddered at the recollection of the whole scene. He made
up his mind that, come what might, he would solve the mystery of Elsie
Venner, sooner or later.

_II.--Cousin Richard Venner_

Richard Venner had passed several of his early years with his uncle
Dudley Venner at the Dudley mansion, the playmate of Elsie, being her
cousin, two or three years older than herself. His mother was a lady of
Buenos Ayres, of Spanish descent, and had died while he was in his
cradle. A self-willed, capricious boy, he was a rough playmate for
Elsie.

But Elsie was the wilder of these two motherless children. Old Sophy--
said to be the granddaughter of a cannibal chief--who watched them in
their play and their quarrels, always seemed to be more afraid for the
boy than the girl.

"Massa Dick, don' you be too rough wi' dat girl! She scratch you las'
week, 'n' some day she bite you; 'n' if she bite you, Massa Dick----"
Old Sophy nodded her head ominously, as if she could say a great deal
more.

Elsie's father, whose fault was to indulge her in everything, found that
it would never do to let these children grow up together. A sharper
quarrel than usual decided this point. Master Dick forgot old Sophy's
caution, and vexed the girl into a paroxysm of wrath, in which she
sprang at him, and bit his arm. Old Dr. Kettredge was sent for, and came
at once when he heard what had happened.

He had a good deal to say about the danger there was from the teeth of
animals or of human beings when enraged, and he emphasised his remarks
by the application of a pencil of lunar caustic to each of the marks
left by the sharp white teeth.

After this Master Dick went off on his travels, which led him into
strange places and stranger company; and so the boy grew up to youth and
early manhood.

There came a time when the young gentleman thought he would like to see
his cousin again, and wrote inviting himself to the Dudley mansion.

Doctor Kettredge could see no harm in the visit when Dudley Venner
consulted him. Her father was never easy about Elsie. He could not tell
the old doctor _all_ he knew. In God's good time he believed his only
daughter would come to her true nature; her eyes would lose that
frightful, cold glitter, and that faint birth-mark which encircled her
neck--her mother swooned when she first saw it--would fade wholly out.

"Let her go to the