as that Mr. Lepel's fever had returned upon him and
that he was raving. But at least three persons knew or suspected that he
spoke only the truth.

"He's mad--delirious!" said the General angrily. "Take him back to his
room, some of you, and help me to secure the criminal!"

"You had better come here and listen to my story first," said Hubert,
still clutching at the door to steady himself. "Keep the police
down-stairs for five minutes, General, if you please. Neither Westwood
nor I shall escape in that time. Jenkins, drop that gentleman's arm!"

Jenkins relinquished his hold of Westwood's arm with great promptitude.
Cynthia said a few words to him in an undertone which sent him
down-stairs at once. She had heard the front door open and shut, and
believed that the police had come. They, at least, could be detained for
a few minutes--she had no hope of anything more; but she felt that
Hubert's confession should be made to his own relatives first of all.
She ran to his side and gave him her arm to lean upon, conducting him
back to the drawing-room; and thither the others followed her in much
agitation and perturbation of mind. The General was almost foaming at
the mouth with rage; Miss Vane looked utterly blank and stupefied;
Flossy's face was white as snow; Sabina watched the scene with stolid
and sullen curiosity; while Westwood marched into the drawing-room with
the air of a proud man unjustly assailed.

They found Hubert leaning against the mantelpiece. He would not sit
down; but he was not strong enough to stand without support. Cynthia was
clinging to him with her face half hidden on his shoulder; his arm was
clasped about her waist.

"What does this mean?" said the General.

"It means," answered Flossy's quiet voice, "that Hubert is raving, and
that the doctor must be sent for immediately."

"You know better than that, Florence," said her brother. "I speak the
truth, and nothing but the truth. I accuse no one else," he said, with
marked emphasis; "but I wish you all now to know what were the facts. It
was I who met Sydney Vane that day in the fir plantation beside the road
that leads up the hill to Beechfield. We quarrelled, and we agreed to
settle the matter by a duel. We were unequally matched. He had a
revolver and I had this man Westwood's gun, which I found on the ground.
We fired, and Sydney fell."

There was a brief silence. Then a bitter cry escaped from Miss Vane's
lips.

"Oh, Hubert, Hubert," sh