“It is very kind of you to come and see me,” said Fitzgerald; “it is at a time like this that one appreciates friendship.”

“Yes, of course,” answered the lawyer, fixing his keen eyes on the other’s haggard face, as if he would read his innermost thoughts.  “I came partly on my own account, and partly because Frettlby asked me to see you as to your defence.”

“Mr. Frettlby?” said Brian, in a mechanical way.  “He is very kind; I thought he believed me guilty.”

“No man is considered guilty until he has been proved so,” answered Calton, evasively.

Brian noticed how guarded the answer was, for he heaved an impatient sigh.

“And Miss Frettlby?” he asked, in a hesitating manner.  This time he got a decided answer.

“She declines to believe you guilty, and will not hear a word said against you.”

“God bless her,” said Brian, fervently; “she is a true woman.  I suppose I am pretty well canvassed?” he added, bitterly.

“Nothing else talked about,” answered Calton, calmly.  “Your arrest has for the present suspended all interest in theatres, cricket matches, and balls, and you are at the present moment being discussed threadbare in Clubs and drawing-rooms.”

Fitzgerald writhed.  He was a singularly proud man, and there was something inexpressibly galling in this unpleasant publicity.

“But this is all idle chatter,” said Calton, taking a seat.

“We must get to business.  Of course, you will accept me as your counsel.”

“It’s no good my doing so,” replied Brian, gloomily.  “The rope is already round my neck.”

“Nonsense,” replied the lawyer, cheerfully, “the rope is round no man’s neck until he is on the scaffold.  Now, you need not say a word,” he went on, holding up his hand as Brian was about to speak; “I intend to defend you, whether you like it or not.  I do not know all the facts, except what the papers have stated, and they exaggerate so much that one can place no reliance on them.  At all events, I believe from my heart that you are innocent, and you must walk out of the prisoner’s dock a free man, if only for the sake of that noble girl who loves you.”

Brian did not answer, but put out his hand, which the other grasped warmly.

“I will not deny,” went on Calton, “that there is a little bit of professional curiosity about me.  This case is such an extraordinary one, that I feel as if I were unable to let slip an opportunity of doing something with it.  I don’t care for your humdrum murders with the poker, and all that sort of thing, but this is something clever, and therefore interesting.  When you are safe we will look together for the real criminal, and the pleasure of the search will be proportionate to the excitement when we find him out.”

“I agree with everything you say,” said Fitzgerald, calmly, “but I have no defence to make.”

“No defence?  You are not going to confess you killed him?”