She was so tall that they fitted her very well, and when her long hair was scientifically twisted up, and a hat of Sir Everard's crushed down upon it, she was as handsome a young fellow as you could see in a long day's search.
That vague and shadowy resemblance to the baronet, which Mr.Parmalee had once noticed, was very palpable and really striking when she threw over all a long riding-cloak which Sir Everard often wore.
"You will do, I think," she said, to her transformed image in the glass.

"Even my lady might mistake you for her husband in the uncertain moonlight." She left the mirror, crossed the room, unlocked a trunk with a key she took out of her bosom, and drew forth a morocco scabbard case.

The crest of the Kingslands and the monogram "E.

K.," decorated the leather.
Opening this, she drew forth a long, glittering Spanish stiletto, not much thicker than a coarse needle, but strong and glittering and deadly keen.
"Sir Everard has not missed his pretty toy yet," she muttered.

"If he had only dreamed, when he saw it first, not a fortnight ago, of the deed it would do this night!" She closed the trunk, thrust the dagger into its scabbard, the scabbard into her bosom, blew out the lamp, and softly opened the door.