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Updated: June 20, 2025
"I'm afraid this talk is getting slightly incoherent," said Felix, with a sigh. "We all seem madder than usual to-day." "Speak for yourself," said Chinston, indignantly, "I'm as sane as any man in the world." "Exactly," retorted the other coolly, "that's what I say, and you, being a doctor, ought to know that every man and woman in the world is more or less mad."
She incessantly called on her father to save himself, and then would talk about Brian, and sing snatches of song, or would sob broken sentences about her dead mother, until the heart of the listener ached to hear her. No one was allowed into the room except Sal, and when Dr. Chinston heard the things she was saying, although used to such cases, he recoiled.
"Only," said Chinston, quietly, "it is as realistic as in the old days of the Coliseum, where the actor who played Orpheus was torn to pieces by bears at the end of the play." "His last appearance on any stage, I suppose," said Calton, a little cruelly, it must be confessed.
He went there yesterday afternoon at two o'clock that is the day after he got it so it would be sent round to Mr. Frettlby's bank, and would not be returned till next day, and as he died in the meanwhile I expect it hasn't been honoured, so Mr. Moreland won't have his money yet." "I wonder what he'll do," said Chinston.
She had not received much encouragement, but, like the English at Waterloo, did not know when she was beaten, and carried on the siege of Mr. Frettlby's heart in an undaunted manner. Dr. Chinston had come up for a little relaxation, and gave never a thought to his anxious patients or the many sick-rooms he was in the habit of visiting.
Madge dangerously ill perhaps dying. What if she were to die, and he to lose the true-hearted woman who stood so nobly by him in his trouble? "Cheer up," said Chinston, patting him on the shoulder; "while there's life there's hope, and whatever human aid can do to save her will be done." Brian grasped the doctor's hand in silence, his heart being too full to speak.
"By Jove, you must have been pretty certain of his guilt," remarked Chinston, dryly. "Of course I was," retorted Kilsip, in a satisfied tone of voice. "When I told the magistrate where I found the coat, and reminded him of Moreland's acknowledgment at the trial, that he had it in his possession before the murder, I soon got him to see the necessity of having Moreland arrested."
The public curiosity, however, was destined never to be gratified, for the next day it was known that Roger Moreland had hanged himself in his cell during the night, and had left no confession behind him. When Brian heard this, he breathed a heartfelt prayer of thanks for his deliverance, and went to see Calton, whom he found at his chambers, in deep conversation with Chinston and Kilsip.
"D your friends, sir!" cried Moreland, furiously, rising from his seat. Calton laughed, and introduced Mr. Moreland to the others. "Dr. Chinston, Mr. Kilsip, and Mr. Fitzgerald." "Fitzgerald," gasped Moreland, growing pale. "I I what's that?" he shrieked, as he saw Whyte's coat, all weather-stained, lying on a chair near him, and which he immediately recognised.
"How did Frettlby die?" asked Calton. "Heart disease," said Chinston. "His heart was very much affected, as I discovered a week or so ago. It appears he was walking in his sleep, and entering the drawing-room, he alarmed Miss Frettlby, who screamed, and must have touched him. He awoke suddenly, and the natural consequences followed he dropped down dead."
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