And still those murderous black eyes glare with devilish hatred upon her through the narrow slits in the mask.
Surely that evil glare is baleful enough to kill her of itself, Vera thinks despairingly, but even at that instant the woman's hand is drawn backward and upward, and in her murderous grasp glitters the flashing blade of a dagger poised above the bare, uncovered breast of the helpless victim, and this time with a last, vain, frenzied effort to call on God for protection, Vera loses sight and consciousness, and lies helpless at the mercy of her deadly foe.
The flashing steel glitters sharply in the air, nearer and nearer it descends over the victim, in another moment it will be sheathed in her heart, when a sudden cry rings through the room, swift footsteps cross the floor, strong arms seize the body of the murderess from behind and wrench her away from her helpless prey.
The gleaming dagger falls clanking to the floor. A man's voice, passionate, vibrant, intense, cleaves the shuddering air of the night.
"Devil! murderess! If you had slain my darling, that blade should have been sheathed in your own heart a moment later!"
It is the voice of Colonel Lockhart. Elsie, the maid, comes close behind him, and together they bind the would-be murderess with strong cords that prevent her attempted escape.
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
When Lady Vera comes to herself at last with many sighs, and painful moans, she finds Lady Clive and the maid Elsie hovering around her like ministering angels, the latter, indeed, sobbing piteously in the belief that her young mistress is dead. But when the faint breath flutters over the parted lips, and the dark eyes unclose and stare around her with a blank, terrified look, Elsie sobs for joy, and even Lady Clive's bright blue eyes fill with glad tears.
"She is alive, my lady," the maid exclaims, joyfully. "That dreadful woman has not killed her with her vile chloroform."