"Where?"
"In your house. The man who returned home was not your husband. He was your husband's twin brother."
She looked at him as one bewildered, as if she did not understand what he was saying, as if words had suddenly lost their meaning. Her face, white as in death, she faltered:
"Not Kenneth—then where is Kenneth?"
"He is dead!"
Her powers of speech paralyzed, her large eyes starting from their sockets from terror, an expression of mute helpless agony on her beautiful face, she looked up at him with horror. Not yet could she fully grasp the meaning of his words. At last the frightful spell was broken. With an effort the words came:
"Then you," she cried. "You are his assassin!"
He shook his head as he replied carelessly:
"No—not I—his brother!"
She gave a cry of anguish and, starting to her feet, made a movement forward, her hands clutching convulsively at her throat. Air! air! She must have air. She felt sick and dizzy. The room was spinning round like a top, and then everything grew dark. Lurching heavily forward she would have fallen had he not caught her.