"I don't know."
Catinka laughed in a scoffing manner. "I thought you would have known by this time," she observed with a shrug.
"Do you know?" demanded Lovel sharply.
"I do. I was told by the man himself."
"The man himself! Who is he?"
"Wait; you will hear in a few minutes."
"In this court?"
"Yes. See!" Catinka stretched out her arm. "Mr. Herne knows who killed the poor lady; see, my dear, he rises to tell the name."
And indeed Herne, in spite of an attempt on the part of Chaskin to prevent him, was on his feet, demanding permission to speak. Before the judge could retire, before the lawyers could rise from the table, before the jury could leave the box, or a single person the court, Herne, without waiting for the permission he had asked for, was making a speech. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes flashed, and he spoke rapidly, clearly, and to the point. His words solved the problem of Milly's death, and they were few.
"My lord," he cried, "and you, gentlemen of the jury, you have liberated one man as guiltless of the death of my promised wife; now I require you to order the arrest of another man--of the man who came by stealth and killed her, to save her soul from ill. You wish to know who killed Millicent Lester. Here is the man!" Herne struck himself on the breast. "I killed her! I saved her soul! I--I--I!"