As soon as Brian received the telegram which announced the death of Mark Frettlby, he put on his hat, stepped into Calton’s trap, and drove along to the St. Kilda station in Flinders Street with that gentleman. There Calton dismissed his trap, sending a note to his clerk with the groom¹, and went down to St. Kilda with Fitzgerald. On arrival they found the whole house perfectly² quiet and orderly, owing to the excellent management of Sal Rawlins. She had taken the command in everything, and although the servants, knowing her antecedents, were disposed to resent her doing so, yet such were her administrative³ powers and strong will, that they obeyed her implicitly⁴. Mark Frettlby’s body had been taken up to his bedroom, Madge had been put to bed, and Dr. Chinston and Brian sent for. When they arrived they could not help expressing their admiration⁵ at the capital way in which Sal Rawlins had managed things.

“She’s a clever girl that,” whispered Calton to Fitzgerald. “Curious thing she should have taken up her proper position in her father’s house. Fate is a deal cleverer than we mortals think her.”

Brian was about to reply when Dr. Chinston entered the room. His face was very grave, and Fitzgerald looked at him in alarm.

“Madge — Miss Frettlby,” he faltered⁶.

“Is very ill,” replied the doctor; “has an attack of brain fever. I can’t answer for the consequences yet.”

Brian sat down on the sofa, and stared at the doctor in a dazed sort of way. Madge dangerously ill — perhaps dying. What if she were to die, and he to lose the true-hearted woman who stood so nobly by him in his trouble?

“Cheer up,” said Chinston, patting him on the shoulder; “while there’s life there’s hope, and whatever human aid can do to save her will be done.”

Brian grasped the doctor’s hand in silence, his heart being too full to speak.

“How did Frettlby die?” asked Calton.

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