All in black—in trailing crape and sables, tall, stately, and dignified as a young duchess—Sybilla Silver obeyed the call.
She was deeply veiled at first, and when she threw back the heavy black veil, and the dark, bright, beautiful face looked full at judge and jury, a low murmur thrilled through the throng.
Those who saw her for the first time stared in wonder and admiration at the tall young woman in black, with the face and air of an Indian queen, and those to whom she was known thought that Miss Silver had never, since they saw her first, looked half as handsome as she did this day.
Her brilliant bloom of color was gone; she was interestingly pale, and her great black eyes were unnaturally deep and mournful.
"Your name is Sybilla Silver, and you reside at Kingsland Court. May we ask in what character—as friend or domestic?"
"As both. Sir Everard Kingsland has been my friend and benefactor from the first. I have been treated as a confidential friend both by him and his mother."
"By the deceased Lady Kingsland also, I conclude?"
"I was in the late Lady Kingsland's confidence—yes."
"You were the last who saw her alive on the night of March tenth—the night of the murder?"
"I was."