s of bank-notes and other valuables were
found untouched. Nothing was missing.

In a word, no clue was found to the supposed murderer and robber; but,
on the other hand, every circumstance combined to fix the deed on Sybil.

Lyon Berners felt a faintness like death coming over him, and subduing
all his manhood. Unblenchingly, in his own person, he would have braved
any fate. But that his wife--his pure, high-toned, magnanimous Sybil,
should be caught up and ground to pieces by this horrible machinery of
circumstance and destiny! Was this a nightmare? His brain was reeling.
He felt that he might go mad. Like the drowning man, he caught at
straws. Turning to the Scotch girl, he demanded somewhat sternly:

"And where were you when your mistress was being murdered? where were
you, that you did not hasten to her assistance? You could not have been
far off--you must in fact have been in that little adjoining nursery."

"And sae I was, laird; and her first screech waked me up and garred me
grew sae till I couldna move, and didna move till I heard her screech
again and again, and saw her rin acrass the floor, and tear back the
bolt and flecht fra the room, followed close behind by Mistress Berners.
And thin mysel' sprang up wi' the bairn in me arms and rin after them,
thinking the de'il was behind me. Oh, me puir leddy! oh, me puir, bonny
leddy! oh! oh! oh!" wept and wailed the girl, dropping down on the floor
and throwing her apron over her head.

But the cries of the child from the adjoining nursery caused her to
start up, and run in there to comfort him.

The searchers left that room, and pursued their investigations
elsewhere. They went all through the house without finding any clue to
the mystery. They attempted to search the grounds, but the night was
pitch-dark, and the rain was falling fast. Finally, they returned to the
room of death.

All the ladies and all the servants had gone away. No one remained in it
but Sybil and Miss Tabby, watching the dead.

Sybil sat near the head of the body, and Miss Tabby near the feet.

At the sight of his doomed young wife, Lyon Berners senses reeled again.

"She is so inexperienced in all the ways of the world, so ignorant of
the ways of the law! Oh, does she know--does she even dream of the awful
position, the deadly danger in which she stands? No; she is unconscious
of all peril. She evidently believes that the explanation she gave us
here, and which satisfies her friends,