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Updated: July 3, 2025
I thought if I could only get it I'd make a nice little pile out of Frettlby over it; so when Whyte went on drinking I did not. After he had gone out of the hotel, I put on his coat, which he left behind. I saw him standing near the lamp-post, and Fitzgerald come up and then leave him.
However; perhaps we'd better look." "Reminiscences of former flirtations," said Calton, with a laugh, pointing to these. "I should not wonder," retorted Miss Frettlby, coolly. "Brian always was in love with some one or other; but you know what Lytton says, 'There are many counterfeits, but only one Eros, so I can afford to forget these things."
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.
It would be better for the whole story to be told, and transitory pain endured, than to go on striving to hide the infamy and shame which might be discovered at any moment. Already the news was all over Melbourne that the murderer of Oliver Whyte had been captured, and that his confession would bring to light certain startling facts concerning the late Mark Frettlby.
Brian frowned, and a dark look passed over his face. "I suppose I must speak to him about it?" he said at length, reluctantly. "Yes, of course!" she replied, lightly. "It is merely a formality; still, one that must be observed." "And where is Mr. Frettlby?" asked Fitzgerald, rising. "In the billiard-room," she answered, as she followed his example.
"What I can't make out," observed Rolleston, who was amusing himself with cracking nuts, "is why they did not find out who he was before." "That is not hard to answer," said Frettlby, filling his glass. "He was comparatively little known here, as he had been out from England such a short time, and I fancy that this was the only house at which he visited."
But when Frettlby turned to go to the door, Madge, who had her eyes fixed on the doctor's face, saw how grave it was. "There is danger?" she said, touching his arm as they paused for a moment at the door. "No! No!" he answered, hastily. "Yes, there is," she persisted. "Tell me the worst, it is best for me to know."
"What nonsense you two young people do talk," said Mr. Frettlby, with an amused smile, as he stirred his tea. "Dulce est desipere in loco," observed Brian, gravely, "a man who can't carry out that observation is sure not to be up to much." "I don't like Latin," said Miss Frettlby, shaking her pretty head.
Sal, horror-struck, did not lose her presence of mind, but, snatching the papers off the table, she thrust them into her pocket, and then called aloud for the servants. But they, already attracted by Madge's wild cry, came hurrying in, to find Mark Frettlby, the millionaire, lying dead, and his daughter in a faint beside her father's corpse.
'Oh! yes, went on Felix, brightly, 'saw him about town don't know him personally; awfully like a fellow I once knew called Fitzgerald- -Brian Fitzgerald married now and got a family; funny thing, married Miss Frettlby, who used to live in your house. 'Oh! that hansom cab murder, said Kitty, looking at him, 'I've heard all about that. 'Egad!
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