A night had passed, bringing no rest to Kenelm Eyrle. He had gone home to The Towers, but sleep was far from him. His whole soul recoiled with horror from the shock. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined anything so horrible. He had not, in fact, believed her; but on his way home it struck him that he might have confirmation of one part of her story.
Her cousin, of whom she had spoken, was Colonel Hurdlestone, and he lived not far from The Towers. Kenelm rode round there and found him enjoying some fine claret. Colonel Hurdlestone asked him to join him, and Mr. Eyrle, thinking the opportunity a good one, consented.
He talked to his host about different matters of interest until he turned the conversation on different weapons.
“Let me see, did you not once give Lady Hermione Lorriston a dagger—an antique of great value?”
The colonel, who was fond of antiques, brightened at the thought of it.
“Yes; one I brought with me from Greece—quite a curiosity; long, very slender, and bright, with a jeweled handle. My cousin prized it very much, but I have not seen it of late. I must ask her about it.”
“You gave it to her, then, to keep?” said Mr. Eyrle, the last faint hope dying from his heart.
The colonel laughed.
“Yes; one does not lend such curiosities. To tell you the truth, I gave it to my Lady Hermione rather against my will; she admired it and asked me for it. I considered that dagger one of the greatest curiosities I brought with me from Greece.”
“It was a strange thing to attract Lady Hermione’s attention,” said Kenelm.