"I was. I never thought that you--you----" "That I would kill Mrs. Jersey," finished the woman, quietly. "Why not? She was a bad, wicked creature, and caused the death of your father. She boasted of it." "Where? When?" asked the astonished young man. "In this very room, in my presence. But to make you understand, I had better tell you all." "One moment, Miss Bull. When you told the fortunes on that night, did you intend to kill Mrs. Jersey?" "No. The death card did turn up. That was a strange coincidence, George. When I came down the stairs I had no more idea than you of killing the wretched woman." "What made you do it?" "I am telling you," replied Miss Bull, folding her hands on her lap. "Wait and hear. Mrs. Jersey was very rude to me on that night. I intended to remonstrate with her. She added insult to injury by locking Margery in her bedroom, so as to keep her from me. I heard her scolding Margery in the passage, and when all was quiet, and Mrs. Jersey had gone down the stairs, I went up to Margery's room and unlocked the door. Mrs. Jersey had struck the poor child, and she was sobbing on her bed. I then determined to go down for the second time and see Mrs. Jersey." "For the second time? Were you down before?" "I was," replied Miss Bull, calmly. "I wondered who Mrs. Jersey had coming to see her, particularly after she had lost her courage when she saw the yellow holly in your coat." "You noticed that?" "Yes, and I noticed the holly also. I wondered why you wore it. The sight of it put into my mind that fatal night when he--" Miss Bull brushed aside her thoughts--"but no matter. I thought I would see if Mrs. Jersey was seeing any one, and also I wished to talk about the yellow holly." "But why should you trouble about her seeing any one?" Miss Bull looked down and then looked up abruptly. "Mrs. Jersey would have sent me back to the asylum if she could, and I was always afraid lest she should see some one secretly about the matter. I crept down the stairs, leaving Margery in my room playing at Patience. Mrs. Jersey's door was closed. I heard the murmur of voices and I put my ear to the keyhole. I heard that dancer--afterward I learned that it was the dancer--I heard her accuse Mrs. Jersey of having killed Percy Vane." "On what grounds did Lola base that accusation?" "She said her mother told her." "I remember," muttered George. "The mother, on receiving back the stiletto, certainly might have thought so. And what did Mrs. Jersey say?" he asked aloud. "She denied it, and made some sort of excuse. I remained to hear no more. I knew then that Mrs. Jersey had killed my Percy." "But she did not; it was an accident." "I know. She explained. But she was the cause. I was right to kill her. But for her Percy would have been alive, I would have been his wife, and you, George, would have been my step-son." "What did you do next?"