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. "I
agree with Heine's remark, that if the Romans had been forced to learn
it they would not have found time to conquer the world."

"Which was a much more agreeable task," said Brian.

"And more profitable," finished Mr. Frettlby.

They chattered in this desultory fashion for a considerable time, till
at last Madge rose and said they must go.

Brian proposed to dine with them at St. Kilda, and then they would all
go to Brock's Fireworks. Madge consented to this, and she was just
pulling on her gloves when suddenly they heard a ring at the front
door, and presently Mrs. Sampson talking in an excited manner at the
pitch of her voice.

"You shan't come in, I tell you," they heard her say shrilly, "so it's
no good trying, which I've allays 'eard as an Englishman's 'ouse is 'is
castle, an' you're a-breakin' the law, as well as a-spilin' the
carpets, which 'as bin newly put down."

Some one made a reply; then the door of Brian's room was thrown open,
and Gorby walked in, followed by another man. Fitzgerald turned as
white as a sheet, for he felt instinctively that they had come for him.
However, pulling himself together, he demanded, in a haughty tone, the
reason of the intrusion.

Mr. Gorby walked straight over to where Brian was standing, and placed
his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Brian Fitzgerald," he said, in a clear voice, "I arrest you in the
Queen's name."

"For what?" asked Brian, steadily.

"The murder of Oliver Whyte."

At this Madge gave a cry.

"It is not true!" she said, wildly. "My God, it's not true."

Brian did not answer, but, ghastly pale, held out his hands. Gorby
slipped the handcuffs on to his wrists with a feeling of compunction,
despite his joy in running his Man down. This done, Fitzgerald turned
round to where Madge was standing, pale and still, as though turned
into stone.

"Madge," he said, in a clear, low voice, "I am going to prison--perhaps
to death; but I swear to you, by all that I hold most sacred, that I am
innocent of this murder."

"My darling!" She made a step forward, but her father stepped before
her.

"Keep back," he said, in a hard voice; "there is nothing between you
and that man now."

She turned round with an