"You were down at the shore until late that night," pursued the girl, "and when you got back you found your uncle dead--murdered! Miss Bonnibel, was Mr. Dane with you that night on the sands? I have sometimes been athinkin' he might a been." "Lucy, what are you trying to get at?" gasped the listener. "I only asked you the question," said Lucy, humbly. "And I cannot understand why you ask it, Lucy, but I will answer it truly. Leslie Dane was with me every moment of the time." "I thought so," said Lucy, fervently. "Thank God!" "Lucy, please explain yourself," said Bonnibel anxiously. "You frighten me with your mysterious looks and words. What has gone wrong?" "I am going to tell you as fast as I can, my dear young mistress. Try and bear it as bravely as you can, for you must go back to America to right a great wrong." "A great wrong!" repeated the listener, helplessly. "You were so sick after Mr. Arnold died," said Lucy, continuing her story, "that the doctors kept the papers and all the news that was afloatin' around, away from you; so it happened that we never let you know that your friend, Mr. Leslie Dane, was charged with the murder of your uncle." There was a minute's shocked silence; then, with a smothered moan of horror, Bonnibel slid from her place and fell on the floor in a helpless heap at Lucy's feet. "Oh! Miss Bonnibel, rouse yourself--oh, for God's sake don't you faint! Oh, me! oh, me! what a born fool I was to tell you that before I got you away from this place!" cried Lucy in terror, kneeling and lifting the drooping head upon her arm. "Oh! Miss Bonnibel, please don't you faint now!" she reiterated, taking a bottle of smelling salts from her pocket and applying it to the young lady's nostrils. Thus vehemently adjured, Bonnibel opened her blue eyes and looked up into the troubled face of her attendant. "We have got to be going now," urged the girl, "you must keep all your strength to get away from here." "I will," said Bonnibel, struggling to a sitting posture in Lucy's supporting arms. "I am quite strong, Lucy, I shall not faint, I give you my word, I will not! Go on with your story!" "I mustn't--you can't stand it," answered the girl, hesitating. "Go on," Bonnibel said, with a certain little authoritative ring in her voice that Lucy had always been wont to obey. "If I must then," said Lucy, reluctantly, "but there's but little more to tell. Mr. Dane got away and they never caught him till the night of your grand masquerade ball when Colonel Carlyle recognized him. The next day he had him arrested and put in a French prison on the charge of murder." "And now?" asked Bonnibel, in horror-struck accents. "And they all sailed for the United States more than two weeks ago," answered Lucy, sadly. "Mr. Dane to his trial, and Colonel Carlyle, Mrs. Arnold and Miss Felise Herbert to testify against him." "More than two weeks ago," repeated Bonnibel like one dazed.