"No—nothing," Sydney answered him herself. "Only stay by me—till the last. Let me finish my story."
Captain Ernscliffe wiped the cold dews of death from her brow and she continued:
"I took Madame De Lisle's cloak and put it over my dress, I tied her veil about my head and face, and—and—went to the western door—myself! Oh! God, this dagger, how it hurts my side!"
A few moans of terrible agony, then she went on, gaspingly:
"There was a tall, dark man outside the door—he said: 'Is it you, Queenie?' Then I saw my mistake—it was not my husband! But I—thought—I might learn—some fatal secret of hers—so I answered yes."
She shuddered from head to foot and a groan of mortal agony broke from her white lips.
"That falsehood sealed my doom! He sprang forward without a word, buried this dagger in my breast, and fled. It was Madame De Lisle's enemy. I know now. I received in my heart the stroke that was meant for hers."
She paused, then repressing a groan of pain, said feebly:
"Have you written it all down?"
"Yes, madam," the manager answered.