Out of doors the scene was still different. The whole length of the valley could be commanded in one view—the smouldering camp-fires; men lying stretched upon the trampled grass; poor wretches, wounded in the quarrels, who had dragged themselves under the shadow of the great trees to bind up their wounds or seek the slumber of exhaustion and spent passions. Over all shone the moon, pouring down a cloud of silvery radiance upon the repulsive scene, and rendering it more horrible from the pure contrast.
At one of the card-tables Yates was still seated, while Dickinson hovered about, unable to remain quiet for a moment, and, in spite of his partial intoxication, haggard and pale at the recollection of the deed yet to be performed.
A meaning glance from Yates sent him out of the room. Very soon his confederate flung down the cards, and, relinquishing his place to some other sleepless desperado, made his way among the forms huddled upon the floor, and passed into the hall.
No one was watching; the stillness deepened each instant. Up the stairs passed the two men, and entered the room where Sybil awaited them.
Few words passed among them, but the woman was much less shaken than either of those bold men. They stood for a short time conversing in broken whispers; then Yates turned quickly aside, moved to the end of the room where a tall wardrobe was placed. A single touch upon a secret spring, and the heavy piece of furniture swung noiselessly out, affording admittance to the chamber beyond.
Ralph Hinchley started from a troubled dream to feel a strange oppression upon his chest—a sweet, sickening odor pervading the atmosphere—and to see through the open door Martin lying upon the bed with a man bending over him and pressing a napkin close against his face.
He started up in bed, unable to realize whether it was real or only another wild vision. A blow from an unseen hand dashed him back upon the pillow; but as he fell, with a smothered cry, he saw a white face bending over him, and in the doorway a woman enveloped in a mantle, which concealed her features and most of her person, uttering cries for help.
He started up again with frantic violence, shrieking out his servant's name:
"Martin! Martin!"
He heard a cry from the woman: