"Because sir," she said, when they had entered the study and she had locked the door. "I don't want any one but yourselves to know what I tell you."
"More mystery," muttered Calton, as he glanced at Brian, and took his seat at the escritoire.
"Mr. Frettlby went to bed early last night," said Sal, calmly, "and Miss Madge and I were talking together in the drawing-room, when he entered, walking in his sleep, and carrying some papers "
Both Calton and Fitzgerald started, and the latter grew pale.
"He came down the room, and spread out a paper on the table where the lamp was. Miss Madge bent forward to see what it was. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. She gave a scream, and fell on the floor. In doing so she happened to touch her father. He awoke, and fell down dead."
"And the papers?" asked Calton, uneasily.
Sal did not answer, but producing them from her pocket, laid them in his hands.
Brian bent forward, as Calton opened the envelope in silence, but both gave vent to an exclamation of horror at seeing the certificate of marriage which they knew Rosanna Moore had given to Whyte. Their worst suspicions were confirmed, and Brian turned away his head, afraid to meet the barrister's eye. The latter folded up the papers thoughtfully, and put them in his pocket.
"You know what these are?" he asked Sal, eyeing her keenly.
"I could hardly help knowing," she answered; "it proves that Rosanna Moore was Mr. Frettlby's wife, and—" she hesitated.
"Go on," said Brian, in a harsh tone, looking up.
"And they were the papers she gave Mr. White."
"Well!"
She was silent for a moment, and then looked up with a flush.
"You needn't think I'm going to split," she said, indignantly, recurring to her Bourke street slang in the excitement of the moment. "I know what you know, but s'elp me G— I'll be as silent as the grave."
"Thank you," said Brian, fervently, taking her hand; "I
