ll
find--your mother"--slowly and distinctly--"waiting for you on the
terrace down by the shore."

"Half past eleven. Why so very late?"

"My lady, it will not be safe for you to venture out before. You are
watched!"

"Watched!" she repeated, haughtily. "Do you mean, Sybilla Silver--"

"I mean, my lady," Miss Silver said, firmly, "Sir Everard has set
spies. The Beech Walk is watched by night and by day. Claudine is
little better than a tool in the hands of Edwards, the valet, with whom
she is in love. She tells everything to Edwards, and Edwards repeats
to his master. A quarter past eleven all will be still--the household
will have retired--you may venture forth in safety. The night will be
dark, the way lonely and dismal; but you know it every inch. On the
stone terrace, at half past eleven, you will find--your mother awaiting
you. You can talk to her in perfect safety, and for as long as you
choose."

"Have you seen her?" she asked.

"At the window of the Blue Belt Inn--yes, my lady. It is very rash for
her to expose herself, too, for hers is a face to strike attention at
once, if only for the wreck of its beauty, and for its unutterable look
of despair. But as she leaves again soon, I dare say nothing will come
of it."

"When do they leave?"

"To-night. It appears a friend of Mr. Parmalee is captain of a little
vessel down in the harbor, and he sails for Southampton at the turn of
the tide--somewhere past midnight. It is a very convenient arrangement
for all parties. By the by, Mr. Parmalee told me to remind you, my
lady, of the three hundred pounds."

"Mr. Parmalee is impertinent. I need no reminder. Have you anything
more to say, Miss Silver?"

"Only this, my lady: the servants' entrance on the south side of the
house will be the safest way for you to take, and the nearest. If you
dread the long, dark walk, my lady, I will be only too happy to
accompany you."

"You are very good. I don't in the least dread it. When I wish you to
accompany me anywhere I will say so."

Sybilla bowed, and the darkness hid a sinister smile.

"You have no orders for me, then, my lady?"

"None. Yes, you had better see Claudine, and say I shall not require
her services to-night. Inform me when the servants have all retired,
and"--a momentary hesitation, but still speaking proudly--"does Sir
Everard dine at home this evening?"

"Sir Everard just rode off as I came in, my lady. He dines with Major