denounce him. Fitzgerald was arrested, and afterwards
acquitted, so I began to think that the certificate had been lost, and
my troubles were at an end. However, I was always haunted by a dread
that the sword was hanging over my head, and would fall sooner or
later. I was right, for two nights ago Roger Moreland, who was an
intimate friend of Whyte's, called on me, and produced the marriage
certificate, which he offered to sell to me for five thousand pounds.
In horror, I accused him of murdering Whyte, which he denied at first,
but afterwards acknowledged, stating that I dare not betray him for my
own sake. I was nearly mad with the horror I was placed in, either to
denounce my daughter as illegitimate or let a murderer escape the
penalty of his crime. At last I agreed to keep silent, and handed him a
cheque for five thousand pounds, receiving in return the marriage
certificate. I then made Moreland swear to leave the colony, which he
readily agreed to do, saying Melbourne was dangerous. When he left I
reflected upon the awfulness of my position, and I had almost
determined to commit suicide, but, thank God, I was saved from that
crime. I write this confession in order that after my death the true
story of the murder of Whyte may be known, and that any one who may
hereafter be accused of the murder may not be wrongfully punished. I
have no hopes of Moreland ever receiving the penalty of his crime, as
when this is opened all trace of him will, no doubt, be lost. I will
not destroy the marriage certificate, but place it with these papers,
so that the truth of my story can be seen. In conclusion, I would ask
forgiveness of my daughter Margaret for my sins, which have been
visited on her, but she can see for herself that circumstances were too
strong for me. May she forgive me, as I hope God in His infinite mercy
will, and may she come sometimes and pray over my grave, nor think too
hardly upon her dead father."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE HANDS OF JUSTICE.

Calton's voice faltered a little when he read those last sad words, and
he laid the manuscript down on the table, amid a dead silence, which
was first broken by Brian.

"Thank God," he said, reverently, "thank God that he was innocent of
the crime!"

"No," said Calton, a little cynically, "the riddle which has perplexed
us so long is read, and the Sphinx is silent for evermore."

"I knew he was incapable of such a thing," cried Chinston, whom emotion
had hithe