The doctor looked at her in some doubt for a few moments, and then
placed his hand on her shoulder.

"My dear young lady," he said gravely, "I will tell you what I have not
dared to tell your father."

"What?" she asked in a low voice, her face growing pale.

"His heart is affected."

"And there is great danger?"

"Yes, great danger. In the event of any sudden shock--" he hesitated.

"Yes--"

"He would probably drop down dead."

"My God!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

KILSIP HAS A THEORY OF HIS OWN.

Mr. Calton sat in his office reading a letter he had just received from
Fitzgerald, and judging from the complacent smile upon his face it
seemed to give him the greatest satisfaction.

"I know," wrote Brian, "that now you have taken up the affair, you will
not stop until you find out everything, so, as I want the matter to
rest as at present, I will anticipate you, and reveal all. You were
right in your conjecture that I knew something likely to lead to the
detection of Whyte's murderer; but when I tell you my reasons for
keeping such a thing secret, I am sure you will not blame me. Mind you,
I do not say that I know who committed the murder; but I have
suspicions--very strong suspicions--and I wish to God Rosanna Moore had
died before she told me what she did. However, I will tell you all, and
leave you to judge as to whether I was justified in concealing what I
was told. I will call at your office some time next week, and then you
will learn everything that Rosanna Moore told me; but once that you are
possessed of the knowledge you will pity me."

"Most extraordinary," mused Calton, leaning back in his chair, as he
laid down the letter. "I wonder if he's about to tell me that he killed
Whyte after all, and that Sal Rawlins perjured herself to save him! No,
that's nonsense, or she'd have turned up in better time, and wouldn't
have risked his neck up to the last moment. Though I make it a rule
never to be surprised at anything, I expect what Brian Fitzgerald has
to tell me will startle me considerably. I've never met with such an
extraordinary case, and from all appearances the end isn't reached yet.
After all," said Mr. Calton, thoughtfully, "truth is stranger than
fiction."

Here a knock came to the door, and in answer to an invitation to enter,
it opened, and Kilsip glided into the room.

"You're not engaged, sir?" he said, in his soft, low voice.

"Oh, dear, no," answered Calton, carelessly; "come in-