"An' if you wants anythin' else, Mr. Fitzgerald," she said, going to the door, "you knows your way to the bell as easily as I do to the kitching," and, with a final chirrup, she crackled out of the room.
As soon as the door was closed Brian put down his paper and roared, in spite of the worry he was in. He had that extraordinary vivacious Irish temperament, by which a man can put all trouble behind his back, and thoroughly enjoy the present. His landlady, with her Arabian Night-like romances, was a source of great amusement to him, and he felt considerably cheered by the odd turn her humor had taken this morning. After a time, however, his laughter ceased, and all his troubles came crowding on him again. He drank his coffee, but pushed away the food which was before him, and then looked through the Argus, to see the latest report about the murder case. What he read made his cheek turn even paler than it was, and he could feel his heart beating loudly.
"They've found a clue, have they?" he muttered, rising and pacing restlessly up and down. "I wonder what it can be? I threw that man off the scent last night, but if he suspects me, there will be no difficulty in him finding out where I live. Bah! What nonsense I am talking. I am the victim of my own morbid imagination. There is nothing to connect me with the crime, so I need not be afraid of my shadow. I've a good mind to leave town for a time, but if I am suspected that would excite suspicion. Oh, Madge! my darling," he cried, passionately, "if you only knew what I suffer, I know that you would pity me—but you must never know the truth—'Never! Never!'" and sinking into a chair by the window he covered his face with his hands. After remaining in this position for some minutes, occupied with his own gloomy thoughts, he arose and rang the bell. A faint crackle in the distance announced that Mrs. Sampson had heard, and she soon came into the room, looking more like a cricket than ever. Brian had gone into his bedroom, and called out to her from there—
"I am going down to St. Kilda, Mrs. Sampson," he said, "and probably will not be back all day."
"Which I 'opes it 'ull do you good,"answered the cricket, "for you've eaten nothin', an' the sea breezes is miraculous
