"Are you sure he committed this--this crime?" said Carmela, hesitatingly.
"Yes, I am sure. Did I not meet him coming out of the cabin on that night; was the stiletto in the dead man's breast not the one you gave him years ago? am I sure--bah! if he is innocent, let him prove it."
There was nothing to be got out of Mrs. Verschoyle, who was simply mad with anger, and grew purple in the face, till Carmela thought she would break a blood-vessel.
"You ought to be grateful to me," she said, furiously; "but for me you would have married Vassalla, and then what of your Australian lover?"
"You can leave my Australian lover out of the question," said Carmela, with great spirit. "I am only waiting for this unhappy affair to be settled, in order to marry him."
"Yes, do, do," cried Mrs. Verschoyle; "and go with him to Australia. Put the ocean between us. I never wish to see your face again. If it had not been for you, my husband would have loved me."
"He did love you," said Carmela, "but your temper drove him away."
At this Mrs. Verschoyle burst out into a storm of anger; so, in order to put a stop to the scene, Carmela left the room, and went back to the Langham, where Sir Mark Trevor waited her.
"I don't want to see my sister again," she said, firmly, and she never did.
Of course, when the trial came on, the court was crowded with the most noted people in London, anxious to see the end of this strange case. It ended more dramatically than they thought it would.