drawing room. Away at the end of the apartment, where Sal and Madge were seated, there was a small table, on which stood a lamp, with an opaque globe, which, having a shade over it, threw a soft and subdued circle of light round the table, leaving the rest of the room in a kind of semi-darkness. Near this sat Madge and Sal, talking gaily, and away up on the left hand side they could see the door open, and a warm flood of light pouring in from the hall.
They had been talking together for some time, when Sal's quick ear caught a footfall on the soft carpet, and, turning rapidly, she saw a tall figure advancing down the room. Madge saw it, too, and started up in surprise on recognizing her father. He was clothed in his dressing-gown, and carried some papers in his hand.
"Why, papa, said Madge, in surprise, "I——"
"Hush!" whispered Sal, grasping her arms. "He's asleep."
And so he was. In accordance with the dictates of the excited brain, the weary body had risen from the bed and wandered about the house. The two girls, drawing back into the shadow, watched him with bated breath as he came slowly down the room. In a few moments he was within the circle of light, and, moving noiselessly along, he laid the papers he carried on the table. They were in a large blue envelope, much worn, with writing in red ink on it. Sal recognized it at once as the one she had seen the dead woman with, and, with an instinctive feeling that there was something wrong, tried to draw Madge back as she watched her father's action with an intensity of feeling which held her spell-bound. Frettlby opened the envelope and took therefrom a yellow, frayed piece of paper, which he spread out on the table. Madge bent forward to see it, but Sal, with sudden terror, drew her back.
"For God's sake, no," she cried.
But it was too late; Madge had caught sight of the names on the paper—"Marriage: Rosanna Moore—Mark Frettlby"—and the whole awful truth flashed upon her. These were the papers Rosanna Moore had handed to Whyte. Whyte had been murdered by the man to whom the papers were of value.
"God! My father!"
