"Don't swear, squire. Yes, I saw the stab given, with that 'ere long knife; and it wasn't the baronet did it, either, though you're going to hang him for it to-morrow."
"In Heaven's name, man, who did the deed?"
"Sybilla Silver!"
"I knew it—I thought it—I said it! The she-devil! Poor, poor Lady
Kingsland!"
"Ma'am," said the American, turning to his veiled companion, "perhaps it will relieve Mr. Bryson's gushing bosom to behold your face. Jest lift that 'ere veil."
"All-merciful Heaven! the dead alive! Lady Kingsland!"
CHAPTER XXXV.
HIGHLY SENSATIONAL.
Sybilla Silver went straight from the prison cell of Sir Everard to the sick-room of his mother. It was almost eleven when she reached the Court, but they watched the night through in that house of mourning.
Leaving the fly before the front entrance, Sybilla stole round to that side door she had used the memorable night of March tenth. She admitted herself without difficulty, and proceeded at once to Lady Kingsland's sick-room.