sold my very soul!"

And then the hysteric passion overcame her, and she fell back in a
frenzy of laughter, sobs, and screams, painful alike to see and hear.
Cynthia, Miss Vane, and Sabina went to her aid. Between them they
carried her into another room, whence her terrible screams resounded at
intervals through the house; and the three men were left alone. The
General sank down upon a chair near the table and hid his face in his
hands. He was breathing heavily, and every now and then a moan escaped
him in the silence of the room.

"Oh, Heaven," he said, "what have I done that this should come upon me
all at once? What have I done?"

Hubert, exhausted by the excitement that he had gone through, staggered
to the sofa and threw himself down upon it. Westwood remained in his
former position, grasping the back of a chair and looking from one to
the other, as if he were anxious to help, but knew not how to offer any
assistance. In the silence that prevailed, the sound of heavy footsteps
could be distinctly heard upon the stairs. The police had arrived at
last.

Almost immediately Cynthia and Sabina Meldreth returned to the room.
They had left Miss Vane with Florence, who seemed more manageable when
her aunt touched her and spoke to her than with anybody else. And, as
soon as they came in, Cynthia went up to Hubert, kissed him, and sat
down beside him, holding her hand in his. But Sabina Meldreth looked
fixedly at the General.

"Don't take on, sir!" she said, going up to the table and speaking
rather softly. "She ain't worth it--she's a reg'lar bad 'un, she is!"

"Woman, how dare you!" cried the poor General, starting from his seat,
and turning his discolored face, his bloodshot eyes, angrily upon the
intruder. "I do not believe a word--a word you say! My wife is--is above
reproach--my wife--the mother of my boy!" There was a curious little
hitch in his speech, as if he could not say the words he wanted to say.

"The mother of your boy!" cried Sabina, with intense scorn. "Much mother
she was to him! Look here, sir! I'll own the truth now, and perhaps it
will soften things a bit to you. The boy was not Mrs. Vane's at all--he
was mine."

Everyone started. The General uttered an inarticulate cry of rage; then
his head dropped on his hands, and he did not speak again. In vain
Hubert tried to silence the speaker.

"Keep your story for another time," he said. "There is no need to make
such accusations now. You cannot sub