The jailer who was to share his cell on this last, awful vigil had been bribed to leave him by himself until the latest moment.
"Come in before midnight," he said, smiling slightly, "and guard me while I sleep, if you wish.

Until then, I should like to be left quite alone." And the man obeyed, awed unutterably by the sublime look of that marble face.
"He never did it," he said to his wife.

"No murderer ever looked with such clear eyes and such a sweet smile as that.

Sir Everard Kingsland is as hinnocent as a hangel, and there'll be a legal murder done to-morrow.

I wish it was that she-devil that swore his life away instead, I'd turn her off myself with the greatest pleasure." As if his thoughts had evoked her, a tall dark figure stood before him--Miss Sybilla Silver herself.
"Good Lord!" cried the jailer, aghast; "who'd a-thought it?
What do you want ?" "To see the prisoner," responded Sybilla.
"You can't see him, then," said the jailer, gruffly.