The Baronet's Bride Part 47

"On the stone terrace."

"How do you know?"

"He returned this afternoon; he sent for me; he told me to tell her to meet him there to-night, about midnight. She did not think you would return before two or three---- Oh, for pity's sake----"

"I'll have their hearts' blood!" he thundered, with an awful oath.

The horrible voice, the horrible oath, was like nothing earthly. The two women cowered down, too intensely frightened even to scream. One other listener recoiled in wordless horror. It was Edwards, the valet.

The madman, goaded to insane fury, had rushed out of the hall--out of the house. The trio looked at each other with bloodless faces and dilated eyes of terror.

Edwards was the first to find his paralyzed tongue:

"May the Lord have mercy upon us! There'll be murder done this night!"

The two women never spoke. Huddled together, they clung to Edwards, as women do cling to men in their hour of fear.

Half an hour pa.s.sed; they never moved nor stirred.

Ten minutes more, and Sir Everard dashed in among them as he had dashed out.

"It is false!" he shouted--"a false, devilish slander! She is not there!"

A shriek from Claudine--a wild, wild shriek. With starting eyes she was pointing to the baronet's hands.

All looked and echoed that horror-struck cry. They were literally dripping blood!

CHAPTER XXIX.

BRANDED.

The baronet lifted his hands to the light, and gazed at their crimson hue with wild, dilated eyes and ghastly face.

"Blood!" he said, in an awful whisper--"blood--Good G.o.d, it is hers!

She is murdered!"

The three listeners recoiled still further, paralyzed at the sight, at the words, at the awful thought that a murderer, red-handed, stood before them.

"A horrible deed has been done this night!" he cried, in a voice that rang down the long hall like a bugle blast. "A murder has been committed! Rouse the house, fetch lights, and follow me!"

Edwards rose up, trembling in every limb.

"Quick!" his master thundered. "Is this a time to stand agape?

Sybilla, sound the alarm! Let all rise and join in the search."

In a moment all was confusion. Claudine, of a highly excitable temperament, no sooner recovered from her stupor of dismay, then, with a piercing shriek, she fainted and tumbled over in a heap.

But no one heeded her. Bells rang, lights flashed, servants, white and wild, rushed to and fro, and over all the voice of the master rang, giving his orders.

"Lights, lights!" he shouted. "Men, why do you linger and stare?

Lights! and follow me to the stone terrace."

He led the way. There was a general rush from the house. The men bore lanterns; the women clung to the men, terror and curiosity struggling, but curiosity getting the better of it. In dead silence all made their way to the stone terrace--all but one.

Sybilla Silver saw them depart, stood a moment, irresolute, then turned and sped away to Sir Everard's dressing-room. She drew the compact bundle of clothes from their corner, removed the dagger, tied up the bundle again with the weight inside, and hurriedly left the house.

"These blood-stained garments are not needed to fix the guilt upon him," she said to herself: "that is done already. The appearance of these would only create confusion and perplexity--perhaps help his cause. I'll destroy these and fling away the dagger in the wood.

They'll he sure to find it in a day or two. They will make such a search that if a needle were lost it would be found."

There was an old sunken well, half filled with slimy, green water, mud, and filth, in a remote end of the plantation. Thither, un.o.bserved, Sybilla made her way in the ghostly moonlight and flung her blood-stained bundle into its vile, poisonous depths.

"Lie there!" she muttered. "You have done your work, and I fling you away, as I fling away all my tools at my pleasure. There, in the green muck and slimy filth, you will tell no tales."

She hurried away and struck into a path leading to the stone terrace.

She could see the lanterns flas.h.i.+ng like firefly sparks; she could hear the clear voice of Sir Everard Kingsland commanding. All at once the lights were still, there was a deep exclamation in the baronet's voice, a wild chorus of feminine screams, then blank silence.

Sybilla Silver threw the dagger, with a quick, fierce gesture, into the wood, and sprung in among them with glistening, greedy black eyes.

They stood in a semicircle, in horror-struck silence, on the terrace.

The light of half a dozen lanterns streamed redly on the stone flooring, but redder than that lurid light, a great pool of blood lay gory before them. The iron railing, painted creamy white, was all clotted with jets of blood, and clinging to a projecting k.n.o.b, something fluttered in the bleak blast, but they did not see it. All eyes were riveted on the awful sight before them--every tongue was paralyzed. Edwards, the valet, was the first to break the dreadful silence.

"My master!" he cried, shrilly; "he will fall!"

He dropped his lantern and sprung forward just in time and no more.

The young baronet reeled and fell heavily backward. The sight of that blood--the life-blood of his bride--seemed to freeze the very heart in his body. With a low moan he lay in his servant's arms like a dead man.

"He has fainted," said the voice of Sybilla Silver. "Lift him up and carry him to the house."

"Wait!" cried some one. "What is this?"

He tore the fluttering garment off the projection and held it up to the light.

"My lady's Injy scarf!"

No one knew who spoke--all recognized it. It was a little Cashmere shawl Lady Kingsland often wore. Another thrilling silence followed; then--

"The Lord be merciful!" gasped a house-maid. "She's been murdered, and we in our beds!"

Sybilla Silver, leaning lightly against the railing, turned authoritatively to Edwards:

"Take your master to his room, Edwards. It is no use of lingering here now; we must wait until morning. Some awful deed has been done, but it may not be my lady murdered."

"How comes her shawl there, then?" asked the old butler. "Why can't she be found in the house?"

"I don't know. It is frightfully mysterious, but nothing more can be done to-night."

"Can't there?" said the butler. "Jackson and Fletcher will go to the village and get the police and search every inch of the park before daylight. The murderer can't be far away."