y up and down the room; "if he did not get into the cab with Whyte
he must have been somewhere else; so he ought to set up the defence of
an ALIBI."

"He can easily do that," said Madge, with a ray of hope lighting up her
sad face, "he was here till eleven o'clock on Thursday night."

"Very probably," returned her father, dryly; "but where was he at one
o'clock on Friday morning?"

"Besides, Mr. Whyte left the house long before Brian did," she went on
rapidly. "You must remember--it was when you quarrelled with Mr. Whyte."

"My dear Madge," said Frettlby, stopping in front of her with a
displeased look, "you are incorrect--Whyte and myself did not quarrel.
He asked me if it were true that Fitzgerald was engaged to you, and I
answered 'Yes.' That was all, and then he left the house."

"Yes, and Brian didn't go until two hours after," said Madge,
triumphantly. "He never saw Mr. Whyte the whole night."

"So he says," replied Mr. Frettlby, significantly. "I believe Brian
before any one else in the world," said his daughter, hotly, with
flushed cheeks and flashing eyes.

"Ah! but will a jury?" queried her father.

"You have turned against him, too," answered Madge, her eyes filling
with tears. "You believe him guilty."

"I am not prepared either to deny or confirm his guilt," said Mr.
Frettlby, coldly. "I have done what I could to help him--I have engaged
Calton to defend him, and, if eloquence and skill can save him, you may
set your mind at rest."

"My dear father," said Madge, throwing her arms round his neck, "I knew
you would not desert him altogether, for my sake."

"My darling," replied her father, in a faltering voice, as he kissed
her, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for your sake."

Meanwhile Brian was sitting in his cell in the Melbourne Jail, thinking
sadly enough about his position. He saw no hope of escape except one,
and that he did not intend to take advantage of.

"It would kill her; it would kill her," he said, feverishly, as he
paced to and fro over the echoing stones. "Better that the last of the
Fitzgeralds should perish like a common thief than that she should know
the bitter truth. If I engage a lawyer to defend me," he went on, "the
first question he will ask me will be where was I on that night, and if
I tell him all will be discovered, and then--no--no--I cannot do it; it
would kill her, my darling," and throwing himself down on the bed, he
covered his face with his hand