Oh, Everard, for pity's sake, trust me! I can not tell you--I dare not!" "Enough, madame! Your accomplice shall!" He turned to go.

She made a step between him and the door.
"What are you going to do?
Tell me, for I will know!" "I am going to the man who shares your guilty secret, madame; and, by the Heaven above us, I'll have the truth out of him if I have to tear it from his throat! Out of my way, before I forget you are a woman and strike you down at my feet!" She staggered back, with a low cry, as if he had struck her indeed.

He strode past, his eyes flashing, his face livid with jealous rage, straight to the picture-gallery.
A door at the opposite side of the corridor stood ajar.

Sybilla Silver's listening cars heard the last fierce words, Sybilla Silver's glittering black eyes saw that last passionate gesture of repulsion.
She saw Harriet, Lady Kingsland--the bride of a month--sink down on the oaken floor, quivering in anguish from head to foot; and her tall form seemed to tower and dilate with diabolical delight.
"Not one year," she cried to her exultant heart--"not one month will I have to wait for my revenge! Lie there, poor fool! and suffer and die, for what I care, while I go and prevent your madly jealous husband from braining my precious fiance.

There is to be blood on the hands and the brand of Cain on the brow of the last of the Kingslands, or my oath will not be kept; but it must not be the ignoble blood of George Washington Parmalee!".