pounds, receiving in return the marriage certificate.  I then made Moreland swear to leave the colony, which he readily agreed to do, saying Melbourne was dangerous.  When he left I reflected upon the awfulness of my position, and I had almost determined to commit suicide, but, thank God, I was saved from that crime.  I write this confession in order that after my death the true story of the murder of Whyte may be known, and that any one who may hereafter be accused of the murder may not be wrongfully punished.  I have no hopes of Moreland ever receiving the penalty of his crime, as when this is opened all trace of him will, no doubt, be lost.  I will not destroy the marriage certificate, but place it with these papers, so that the truth of my story can be seen.  In conclusion, I would ask forgiveness of my daughter Margaret for my sins, which have been visited on her, but she can see for herself that circumstances were too strong for me.  May she forgive me, as I hope God in His infinite mercy will, and may she come sometimes and pray over my grave, nor think too hardly upon her dead father.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE HANDS OF JUSTICE.

Calton’s voice faltered a little when he read those last sad words, and he laid the manuscript down on the table, amid a dead silence, which was first broken by Brian.

“Thank God,” he said, reverently, “thank God that he was innocent of the crime!”

“No,” said Calton, a little cynically, “the riddle which has perplexed us so long is read, and the Sphinx is silent for evermore.”

“I knew he was incapable of such a thing,” cried Chinston, whom emotion had hitherto kept silent.

Meanwhile Kilsip listened to these eulogistic remarks on the dead man, and purred to himself, in a satisfied sort of way, like a cat who has caught a mouse.

“You see, sir,” he said, addressing the barrister, “I was right after all.”

“Yes,” answered Calton, frankly, “I acknowledge my defeat, but now—­”

“I’m going to arrest Moreland right off,” said Kilsip.

There was a silence for a few moments, and then Calton spoke again.

“I suppose it must be so—­poor girl—­poor girl.”

“I’m very sorry for the young lady myself,” said the detective in his soft, low voice; “but you see I cannot let a dangerous criminal escape for a mere matter of sentiment.”

“Of course not,” said Fitzgerald, sharply.  “Moreland must be arrested right off.”

“But he will confess everything,” said Calton, angrily, “and then everyone will know about this first marriage.”

“Let them,” retorted Brian, bitterly.  “As soon as she is well enough we will marry at once, and leave Australia for ever.”

“But—­”

“I know her better than you do,” said the young man, doggedly; “and I know she would like an end made of this whole miserable business at once.  Arrest the murderer, and let him suffer for his crime.”