the
carpet, bein' an expensive one, as I 'ad on my marriage, an' the only
way I could stop 'im was by givin' 'im something soothin', which you,
sir, ought to try--whisky 'ot, with lemon and sugar--but I've 'eard
tell as chloroform--"

"No, d-- it," said Brian, hastily, startled out of his politeness, "I've
had enough of that."

"Achin' teeth, no doubt," said the landlady, going to the door, "which
I'm often taken that way myself, decayed teeth runnin' in the family,
tho', to be sure, mine are stronger than former, a lodger of mine
'avin' bin a dentist, an' doin' them beautiful, instead of payin' rent,
not avin' ready cash, his boxes bein' filled with bricks on 'is
departure from the 'ouse."

As Brian did not appear particularly interested in these domestic
reminiscences, and seemed as if he wanted to be left alone, Mrs.
Sampson, with a final crackle, went down stairs and talked with a
neighbour in the kitchen, as to the desirability of drawing her money
out of the Savings Bank, in case the Russians should surprise and
capture Melbourne. Brian, left alone, stared out of the window at the
dusty road and the black shadows cast by the tall poplars in front of
the house.

"I must leave this place," he said to himself; "every chance remark
seems to bear on the murder, and I'm not anxious to have it constantly
by my Bide like the skeleton at the feast."

Suddenly he recollected the letter which he held in his hand, and which
he now looked at for the first time. It proved to be from Madge, and
tearing it open hastily, he read it.

"I cannot understand what is the matter with papa," she wrote.

"Ever since that man Moreland left last night, he hae shut himself up
in his study, and is writing there hour after hour. I went up this
morning, but he would not let me in. He did not come down to breakfast,
and I am getting seriously alarmed Come down to-morrow and see me, for
I am anxious about his state of health, and I am sure that Moreland
told him something which has upset him."

"Writing," said Brian, as he put the letter in his pocket, "what about,
I wonder? Perhaps he is thinking of committing suicide! if so, I for
one will not stop him. It is a horrible thing to do, but it would be
acting for the best under the circumstances."

In spite of his determination to see Calton and tell all, Fitzgerald
did not go near him that day. He felt ill and weary, the want of sleep,
and mental worry, telling on him terribly, and he