vation is the first law of nature, and if my neck was in danger I'd spare neither man, woman nor child to save it."
"I dare say," answered Brian; "but if you had my reasons you might think differently."
In his own mind the lawyer had a theory which sufficiently accounted for Brian's refusal to answer for his doings on that night. Fitzgerald had admitted that he had an appointment on that night, and that it was with a woman. He was a handsome fellow, and probably his morals were no better than those of other young men, so Calton thought that Brian had some intrigue with a married woman, and had been with her on the night in question; hence his refusal to speak. If he did so her name would be brought into the matter; the outraged husband, whosoever he might be, would interpose, and the whole affair would probably end in the Divorce Court.
"It's better for him to lose his character than his life," argued Calton, "and that woman ought to speak—it would be hard on her, I admit, but when a man's neck is in danger she ought to risk anything rather than see him hanged."
Full of these perplexing thoughts, Calton went down to St. Kilda to have a talk with Madge over the matter, and also to see if she would help him to obtain the information he wanted. He had a great respect for Madge, knowing what a clever woman she was, and thought that, seeing Brian was so deeply in love with her, if she saw him about the matter he might be induced to confess everything.
The lawyer found Madge waiting anxiously to see him, and when he entered she sprang forward with a cry of delight.
"Oh, where have you been all this time?" she said, anxiously, as they sat down. "I have been counting every moment since I saw you last. How is he—my poor darling?"
"Just the same," answered Calton, taking off his gloves, "still obstinately refusing to save his own life. Where's your father?" he asked, suddenly.
"Out of town," she answered, impatiently. "He will not be back for a week—but what do you mean that he won't save his own life?"
