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Updated: July 3, 2025
"I'd take Madge without a penny." "My boy," said the barrister, placing his hand kindly on Brian's shoulder, "when you marry Madge Frettlby, you will get what is better than money a heart of gold." "Nothing is certain but the unforeseen;" so says a French proverb, and judging from the unexpected things which daily happen to us, it is without doubt a very true one.
"Depends upon circumstances," replied the other carelessly. "I may and I may not. You go on business, I presume?" "Well, the fact is Calton " Here Brian stopped suddenly, and bit his lip with vexation, for he had not intended to mention the lawyer's name. "Yes?" said Mr. Frettlby, interrogatively, sitting up quickly, and looking keenly at Brian.
"No one will recognise me," she said calmly, "I am very plainly dressed, and I will wear this veil;" and, drawing one from her pocket, she went to a small looking-glass which was hanging on the wall, and tied it over her face. Calton looked in perplexity at Mr. Frettlby. "I'm afraid you must consent," he said.
"But, indeed," he went on, "I'm nearly worried to death by people asking about Whyte, as if I knew all about him, whereas I know nothing." "Just as well you don't," answered Mr. Frettlby, as they descended the steps together; "he was not a very desirable companion."
When they arrived in Melbourne, Rosanna let Whyte do all the business, and kept herself quiet. She gave her marriage certificate to Whyte, and he had it on him the night he was murdered." "Then Gorby was right," interposed Calton, eagerly. "The man to whom those papers were valuable did murder Whyte!" "Can you doubt it? And that man was " "Not Mark Frettlby?" burst out Calton.
"Nonsense," interrupted Frettlby, hospitably; "we are not in Melbourne, and I am sure Madge will excuse your dress. You must stay." "Yes, do," said Madge, in a beseeching tone, touching his hand lightly. "I don't see so much of you that I can let you off with half-an-hour's conversation." Brian seemed to be making a violent effort. "Very well," he said in a low voice; "I shall stay."
As they entered Mr. Frettlby rose from a chair near the window. He appeared to have been reading, for he held a book in his hand. "What! Fitzgerald," he exclaimed, in a hearty tone, as he held out his hand; "I am glad to see you." "I let you know I am living, don't I?" replied Brian, his face flushing as he reluctantly took the proffered hand.
He had passed out of the life of both the lovers, and they, glad that he troubled them no more, never suspected for a moment that the body of the unknown man found in Royston's cab was that of Oliver Whyte. About two weeks after Whyte's disappearance Mr. Frettlby gave a dinner party in honour of his daughter's birthday.
"What!" cried Kilsip. "Yes, Moreland, in coming out of the hotel, evidently saw Frettlby, and threatened to expose him unless he paid for his silence." "Very strange," murmured Kilsip, to himself, with a disappointed look on his face. "But why did Moreland keep still so long?" "I cannot tell you," replied Calton, "but, no doubt, the confession will explain all."
"I came partly on my own account, and partly because Frettlby asked me to see you as to your defence." "Mr. Frettlby?" said Brian, in a mechanical way. "He is very kind; I thought he believed me guilty." "No man is considered guilty until he has been proved so," answered Calton, evasively. Brian noticed how guarded the answer was, for he heaved an impatient sigh.
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