I have a long story to tell you, beginning with the astrologer's prediction." With fiendish composure Sybilla repeated the story she had told Sir Everard, while Lady Kingsland lay paralyzed and listened.
The atrocious revelation ended, she looked at her prostrate foe with a diabolical smile.
"My oath is kept; the prediction is fulfilled.

In a few hours the last of the Kingslands dies by the hand of the common hangman.

I have told you all, and I dare you to injure one hair of my head.

Within the hour my journey from England commences.

Search for last year's snow, for last September's partridges, and when you find them you may hope to find Sybilla Silver.