rettlby. All the evidence that he had given
at the trial was that he had met Whyte, and had been drinking with him
during the evening. Whyte then went out, and that was the last Moreland
had seen of him. Now, the question was, "What did he go to see Mark
Frettlby for?" He had no acquaintance with him, and yet he called by
appointment. It is true he might have been in poverty, and the
millionaire being well-known as an extremely generous man, Moreland
might have called on him for money. But then the cry which Frettlby had
given after the interview had lasted a short time proved that he had
been startled. Madge had gone upstairs and found the door locked, her
father refusing her admission. Now, why was he so anxious Moreland
should not be seen by any one? That he had made some startling
revelation was certain, and Fitzgerald felt sure that it was in
connection with the hansom cab murder case. He wearied himself with
conjectures about the matter, and towards daybreak threw himself,
dressed as he was, on the bed, and slept heavily till twelve o'clock
the next day. When he arose and looked at himself in the glass, he was
startled at the haggard and worn appearance of his face. The moment he
was awake his mind went back to Mark Frettlby and the visit of Roger
Moreland.

"The net is closing round him," he murmured to himself. "I don't see
how he can escape. Oh! Madge! Madge! if only I could spare you the
bitterness of knowing what you must know, sooner or later, and that
other unhappy girl--the sins of the fathers will be visited on the
children--God help them."

He took his bath, and, after dressing himself, went into his
sitting-room, where he had a cup of tea, which refreshed him
considerably. Mrs. Sampson came crackling merrily upstairs with a
letter, and gave vent to an exclamation of surprise, on seeing his
altered appearance.

"Lor, sir!" she exclaimed, "what 'ave you bin a-doin'--me knowin' your
'abits know'd as you'd gone to bed, not to say as it's very temptin' in
this 'ot weather, but with excuses, sir, you looks as if you 'adn't
slept a blessed wink."

"No, more I have," said Brian, listlessly holding out his hand for the
letter. "I was walking up and down my room all last night--I must have
walked miles."

"Ah! 'ow that puts me in mind of my pore 'usband," chirped the cricket;
"bein' a printer, and accustomed like a howl to the darkness, when 'e
was 'ome for the night 'e walked up and down till 'e wore out