Highly Sensational

"The sight of you will kill her."

"We must risk that."

She passed into the room as she spoke.

"Wait here," she said. "I must see her quite alone, but it will only be for a few minutes."

She closed the door and stood alone in the sick lady's room.

"Is it you, Mildred? The light is too strong."

"It is not Mildred, my lady. It is I."

"Sybilla Silver!"

No words can describe the look of agony, of terror, of repulsion, that crossed my lady's face. She held up both hands with a gesture of loathing and horror.

"Keep off!" she cried. "You murderess!"

"Yes," she cried, "that is the word--murderess!--for I murdered your daughter-in-law. You never liked her, you know, Lady Kingsland. Surely, then, when I stabbed her and threw her into the sea, I did you a good turn. Lie still, and listen to me. I have a long story to tell you, beginning with the astrologer's prediction."

With fiendish composure Sybilla repeated the story she had told Sir Everard, while Lady Kingsland lay paralyzed and listened.

The atrocious revelation ended, she looked at her prostrate foe with a diabolical smile.

"My oath is kept; the prediction is fulfilled. In a few hours the last of the Kingslands dies by the hand of the common hangman. I have told you all, and I dare you to injure one hair of my head. Within the hour my journey from England commences. Search for last year's snow, for last September's partridges, and when you find them you may hope to find Sybilla Silver. Burn the prediction, destroy my grandmother's portrait and lock of hair, so carefully hidden away for many years. Their work is done, and my vengeance is complete. Lady Kingsland, farewell!"