ing very restless, and for more than an hour has called
unceasingly for Constance. Do you think your niece would come to us this
morning? Her strong, cool nerves might have some influence upon poor
Sybil."

"I am sure she will come," replied Mrs. Aliston, warmly "and without a
moment's delay. I will drive home at once, Mrs. Lamotte, and send
Constance back."

"Not until you have had breakfast, Mrs. Aliston. And how can I thank you
for your goodness, and your help, during the past horrible night?"

"By saying nothing at all about it, my dear, and by ordering the
carriage the moment I have swallowed a cup of coffee," replied the
good-hearted soul, cheerily. "I hope and trust that Sybil will recover
very soon; but if she grows worse, you must let me help you all I can."

Half an hour later the Lamotte carriage rolled swiftly across the bridge
and towards Wardour; and so Mrs. Aliston, for the time at least, was
spared the shock that fell upon the house of Mapleton, scarce fifteen
minutes later, the news of John Burrill's murder, and the finding of the
body.

Little more than an hour later, Constance Wardour sprang from the
carriage at the door of Mapleton, and ran hurriedly up the broad steps.
The outer door stood wide open, and a group of servants were huddled
about the door of the drawing room, with pale, affrighted faces, and
panic-stricken manner.

Seeing them, Constance at once takes the alarm. Sybil must be worse;
must be very ill indeed. Instantly the question rises to her lips:

"Is Sybil--is Mrs. Burrill worse?" and then she hears the startling
truth.

"John Burrill is dead. John Burrill has been murdered." In bewilderment,
in amazement, she hears all there is to tell, all that the servants
know. A messenger came, telling only the bare facts. John Burrill's body
has been found in an old cellar; Frank has just gone, riding like a
madman, to see that the body is cared for, and to bring it home. Mrs.
Lamotte has been told the horrible news; has received it like an icicle;
has ordered them to prepare the drawing room for the reception of the
body, and has gone back to her daughter.

All this Constance hears, and then, strangely startled, and vaguely
thankful that Frank is not in the house, she goes up to the sick room.
Mrs. Lamotte rises to greet her, with a look upon her face that startles
Constance, even more than did the news she has just heard below stairs.

Intense feeling has been for so long frozen o