, he had
gone down to his office, when his clerk entered with a telegram. The
lawyer opened it hastily, and, with a silent look of pleasure on his
face, handed the telegram to Madge.

She, womanlike, being more impulsive, gave a cry when she read it, and,
falling on her knees, thanked God for having heard her prayers, and
saved her lover's life.

"Take me to her at once," she implored the lawyer.

She was anxious to hear from Sal Rawlins' own lips the joyful words
which would save Brian from a felon's death.

"No, my dear," answered Calton, firmly, but kindly. "I can hardly take
a lady to the place where Sal Rawlins lives. You will know all
to-morrow, but, meanwhile, you must go home and get some sleep."

"And you will tell him?" she whispered, clasping her hands on Calton's
arm.

"At once," he answered promptly. "And I will see Sal Rawlins to-night,
and hear what she has to say. Rest content, my dear," he added, as he
placed her in the carriage, "he is perfectly safe now."

Brian heard the good news with a deep feeling of gratitude, knowing
that his life was safe, and that he could still keep his secret. It was
the natural revulsion of feeling after the unnatural life he had been
leading since his arrest. When one is young and healthy, and has all
the world before one, it is a terrible thing to contemplate a sudden
death. And yet, in spite of his joy at being delivered from the
hangman's rope, there mingled with his delight the horror of that
secret which the dying woman had told him with such malignant joy.

"I had rather she had died in silence than she should have bequeathed
me this legacy of sorrow."

And the gaoler, seeing his haggard face the next morning, muttered to
himself, "He war blest if the swell warn't sorry he war safe."

So, while Brian was pacing up and down his cell during the weary
watches of the night, Madge, in her own room, was kneeling beside her
bed and thanking God for His great mercy; and Calton, the good fairy of
the two lovers, was hurrying towards the humble abode of Mrs. Rawlins,
familiarly known as Mother Guttersnipe. Kilsip was beside him, and they
were talking eagerly about the providential appearance of the
invaluable witness.

"What I like," observed Kilsip, in his soft, purring tone, "is the sell
it will be for that Gorby. He was so certain that Mr. Fitzgerald was
the man, and when he gets off to-morrow Gorby will be in a rage."

"Where was Sal the whole time?" asked C