“Now, dear Sybil, with Judge Basham’s permission, give our friends the explanation that you have promised them,” said Lyon Berners affectionately, and confidingly taking her hand and placing himself beside her.
For all his anger as well as all her jealousy had been swept away in the terrible tornado of this evening’s events.
“The explanation that I promised you, and those who wish me well,” she said emphatically. And then her voice arose clear, firm, and distinct, as she continued:
“I was in my chamber, which is immediately above that occupied by Mrs. Blondelle. My chamber is approached by two ways, first by the front passage and stairs, and secondly by a narrow staircase running up from Mrs. Blondelle’s room. And the door leading from her room up this staircase and into mine, she has been in the habit of leaving open. To-night, as I said, I was sitting in my chamber; from causes not necessary to explain now and here, I was too much disturbed in mind to think of retiring to rest, or even of undressing. I do not know how long I had sat there, when I heard a piercing shriek from some one in the room below. Instinctively I rushed down the communicating stairs and into Mrs. Blondelle’s room, and up to her bed, where I saw by the light of the taper she was lying. Her eyes were closed, and I thought at first that she had fainted from some fright until, almost at the same instant, I saw this dagger—” here Sybil stooped and picked up the dagger that she had dropped a few minutes before—“driven to its haft in her chest. I drew it out. Instantly the blood from the opened wound spirted up, covering my hand and sleeve with the accusing stains you see! With the flowing of the blood her eyes flew wildly open! She gazed affrightedly at me for an instant, and then with the last effort of her life, for which terror lent her strength, she started up and fled shrieking to this room. I, still holding the dagger that I had drawn from her bosom, followed her here. And—you know the rest,” said Sybil; and overcome with excitement, she sank upon the nearest chair to rest.
Lyon Berners still held her hand.
Her story had evidently made a very great impression upon the company present. But Lyon Berners suddenly exclaimed:
“Good Heavens! that lady’s mistaken charge has put us all off the scent, and allowed the murderer to escape. But it may not yet be too late! Some clue may be left in her room by which we may trace the criminal! Come, neighbors, and let us search the premises.”
And Lyon Berners, leaving the shuddering women of the party in the room with Sybil and the dead, and followed by all the men, went to search the house and ground for traces of the assassin.