"Go 'long--do! You're too smart for this world--you are, by gosh! Miss Sybilla Silver." "Almost smart enough for a Yankee, Mr.Parmalee, and wonderfully good at guessing." "Yes?
And what have you guessed this time ?" "That you have Lady Kingsland's secret; that that portrait--the last of the five--is the clew.

That you hold the baronet's bride in the hollow of your hand!" She spoke the last words close to his ear, in a fierce, sibilant whisper.

The American actually recoiled.
"Go 'long!" repeated Mr.Parmalee.

"Don't you go whistling in a fellow's ear like that, Miss S.; it tickles.

Got any more to say ?" "Only this: that you had better make a friend of me, Mr.Parmalee." "And if I don't, Miss S.?
If I prefer to do as we do in euchre, 'go it alone'-- what then ?" "Then!" cried Sybilla, with a blaze of her black eyes, "I'll take the game out of your hands.