No one noticed at first in the terrible excitement of the whole affair that Kitty May had suddenly turned around and grappled with a slim, dandy looking youth who had been looking at the prisoner on the scaffold almost over the maid’s shoulder. She had suddenly whirled herself about and grasped the elegant youth by the waist, and despite the frantic efforts he made to escape, Kitty held him tightly in her strong young arms and they rolled upon the ground together, while Kitty shouted, frantically. “Help! help! Don’t let him get away. It’s Sibyl St. Alban, that she-devil dressed up in boy’s clothes! She isn’t dead, but alive, and as wicked as ever!” CHAPTER LII. SIBYL’S PUNISHMENT. Several men went to Kitty May’s assistance, and helped her to secure the handsome young dude. Having lost his hat in the _mélee_ with the maid it was discovered that a quantity of pretty flaxen hair had been rolled in a twist on the top of his head and adroitly covered by a fair wig. The wig having been torn off, the long hair rolled luxuriantly over his shoulders, and he stood confessed--a woman! “Didn’t I tell you ’twas Sibyl St. Alban?” cried Kitty, puffing and blowing with her valiant exertions but triumphant. “Oh, you wretch, you she-devil, you! Do you know what they ought to do with you now? They ought to take you up on the gallows there and hang you till you’re dead for the awful slanders you uttered against my angel mistress! How did you get out of your grave anyhow, and come back to curse the earth again?” “You lie. I am not Sibyl St. Alban,” answered the elegant youth; but denial was useless. There were many present who had seen the pretty belle, Mrs. St. Alban, and who now identified her instantly. Murmurs of wonder and execration arose on every hand, but all became suddenly silent as Governor Steele mounted the scaffold and asked for the attention of the crowd. They gave him one ringing cheer and then remained respectfully silent. In brief eloquent language he told them all the truth--he told them of the jealous lover who had killed his fickle love, and who in his dying hour, torn by the fierce wolves of far-off Egypt, had written down a confession of the truth in his heart’s blood. He held up the paper with the dark crimson letters upon it to their view, and Sibyl St. Alban who had stood without a shudder to see her innocent rival die a shameful death, reeled and fainted at the appalling sight of the evidence against her, written in the heart’s blood of Oswald Ferris. They carried her into the prison--into the very cell where Nina had languished away hopeless months of anguish--and laid her down to recover from the swoon into which she had fallen. When she recovered all her bravado and defiance had vanished. The sight of the gloomy cell in which she was lying filled her with terror and disgust. Seeing how useless was all denial, and in hope of escaping from the power of the law, she was ready to confess all.