Sir Everard seized the bell-rope and rang a peal that resounded with unearthly echoes through the sleeping house.  Five minutes of mad impatience—­ten; then Claudine, scared and shivering, appeared.

“Where is your mistress?”

“Mon Dieu! how should I know?  Is not my lady in bed?”

“No; her bed has not been slept in to-night.  She is in none of her rooms.  When did you see her last?”

“About ten o’clock.  She dismissed me for the night; she said she would undress herself.”

“Where is Miss Silver?”

“In bed, I think, monsieur.”

“Go to her—­tell her I want to see her at once.  Lose no time.”

Claudine disappeared.  Miss Silver was so very soundly asleep that it required five minutes rapping to rouse her.  Once aroused, however, she threw on a dressing-gown, thrust her feet into slippers, and appeared before the baronet, with a pale, anxious, inquiring face.

“Where is my wife?  Where is Lady Kingsland?”

“Good Heaven! is she not here?”

“No.  You know where she is!  Tell me, I command you!”

Sybilla Silver covered her face with both hands, and cowered before him with every sign of guilt.

“Spare me!” she cried, faintly.  “I dare not tell you!”

He made one stride forward, caught her by the arm, his eyes glaring like the eyes of a tiger.

“Speak!” he thundered; “or by the Heaven above us, I’ll tear it from your throat!  Is she with him?”

“She is,” cowering, shrinking, trembling.

“Where?”

“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 passed; 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.