"What do they say?"
"Their voices are hushed! Ha! A sound like the tearing of cloth. The dull thud as of a body falling to the earth. A gasp, and all is still. The footsteps move about again. It seems as if only one man is there. He comes slowly forward and approaches the tomb. He places the light upon the floor. He is going to lift the lid. It is heavy. He can scarcely move it. He pushes it aside with his hands. Ah!" she exclaimed in a tone of disgust, "ah! his fingers are wet with blood. Some drops fall into the tomb. Oh!" she gasped in the voice of one who suddenly realizes an awful truth. "Oh! he is a murderer! He has killed the other. He peers into the tomb. The lamp on the floor lights up his face. I can see the sparkle of his eyes. Oh! it is——"
In sheer horror Beatrice paused as if recognizing the visionary face.
"What! You know him," cried Lorelie, wildly: and to Idris' mind there was as much horror in her voice as in that of Beatrice. "You know him? Who is it?"
Instead of replying Beatrice tried to lift her hands as though their removal from the vase would dissolve the terrible vision. Lorelie came swiftly forward and stayed her action with an imperative gesture.
Much as Idris felt the necessity for intervention, he refrained, for he was as eager for the name as Lorelie herself.
"You recognize him?" cried Lorelie. "Who is it? His name? Who has more right to know it than I? Speak! God of heaven, I'll wrest the name from you, though you were dying—— No! stop! silence!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Do not say the name."
Eager to learn the secret Idris had been incautiously pressing against the silken portière, and even in the midst of her agitation, Lorelie had seen the movement of the curtain.
There was a moment's silence, and then she cried:—
"Who is there?"