She told him what Dr. Chinston had said about the state of her father's heart, a recital which shocked Brian greatly. They did not return to the drawing-room, but went out on the verandah, where, after wrapping a cloak around Madge, Fitzgerald lit a cigarette. They sat down at the far end of the verandah somewhat in the shadow, and could see the hall door wide open, and a warm flood of mellow light pouring therefrom, and beyond the cold, white moonshine. After about a quarter of an hour, Madge's alarm about her father having somewhat subsided, they were chatting on indifferent subjects, when a man came out of the hall door, and paused for a moment on the steps of the verandah. He was dressed in rather a fashionable suit of clothes, but, in spite of the heat of the night, he had a thick white silk scarf round his throat. "That's rather a cool individual," said Brian, removing his cigarette from between his lips. "I wonder what--Good God!" he cried, rising to his feet as the stranger turned round to look at the house, and took off his hat for a moment--"Roger Moreland." The man started, and looked quickly round into the dark shadow of the verandah where they were seated, then, putting on his hat, he ran quickly down the path, and they heard the gate clang after him. Madge felt a sudden fear at the expression on Brian's face, as revealed by a ray of moonlight streaming full on it. "Who is Roger Moreland?" she asked, touching his arm--"Ah! I remember," with sudden horror, "Oliver Whyte's friend." "Yes," in a hoarse whisper, "and one of the witnesses at the trial." CHAPTER XXIX. MR. CALTON'S CURIOSITY IS SATISFIED.