She told him what Dr. Chinston had said about the state of her father’s heart, a recital which shocked Brian greatly.  They did not return to the drawing-room, but went out on the verandah, where, after wrapping a cloak around Madge, Fitzgerald lit a cigarette.  They sat down at the far end of the verandah somewhat in the shadow, and could see the hall door wide open, and a warm flood of mellow light pouring therefrom, and beyond the cold, white moonshine.  After about a quarter of an hour, Madge’s alarm about her father having somewhat subsided, they were chatting on indifferent subjects, when a man came out of the hall door, and paused for a moment on the steps of the verandah.  He was dressed in rather a fashionable suit of clothes, but, in spite of the heat of the night, he had a thick white silk scarf round his throat.

“That’s rather a cool individual,” said Brian, removing his cigarette from between his lips.  “I wonder what—­Good God!” he cried, rising to his feet as the stranger turned round to look at the house, and took off his hat for a moment—­“Roger Moreland.”

The man started, and looked quickly round into the dark shadow of the verandah where they were seated, then, putting on his hat, he ran quickly down the path, and they heard the gate clang after him.

Madge felt a sudden fear at the expression on Brian’s face, as revealed by a ray of moonlight streaming full on it.

“Who is Roger Moreland?” she asked, touching his arm—­“Ah!  I remember,” with sudden horror, “Oliver Whyte’s friend.”

“Yes,” in a hoarse whisper, “and one of the witnesses at the trial.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

MR. CALTON’S CURIOSITY IS SATISFIED.

There was not much sleep for Brian that night.  He left Madge almost immediately, and went home, but he Aid not go to bed.  He felt too anxious and ill at ease to sleep, and passed the greater part of the night walking up and down his room, occupied with his own sad thoughts.  He was wondering in his own mind what could be the meaning of Roger Moreland’s visit to Mark Frettlby.  All the evidence that he had given at the trial was that he had met Whyte, and had been drinking with him during the evening.  Whyte then went out, and that was the last Moreland had seen of him.  Now, the question was, “What did he go to see Mark Frettlby for?” He had no acquaintance with him, and yet he called by appointment.  It is true he might have been in poverty, and the millionaire being well-known as an extremely generous man, Moreland might have called on him for money.  But then the cry which Frettlby had given after the interview had lasted a short time proved that he had been startled.  Madge had gone upstairs and found the door locked, her father refusing her admission.  Now, why was he so anxious Moreland should not be seen by any one?  That he had made some startling revelation was certain, and Fitzgerald felt sure that