"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 faltered. "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. "Heart disease," said Chinston. "His heart was very much affected, as I discovered a week or so ago. It appears he was walking in his sleep, and entering the drawing-room, he alarmed Miss Frettlby, who screamed, and must have touched him. He awoke suddenly, and the natural consequences followed--he dropped down dead." "What alarmed Miss Frettlby?" asked Brian, in a low voice, covering his face with his hand. "The sight of her father walking in his sleep, I suppose," said Chinston, buttoning his glove; "and the shock of his death which took place indirectly through her, accounts for the brain fever." "Madge Frettlby is not the woman to scream and waken a somnambulist," said Calton, decidedly, "knowing as she did the danger. There must be some other reason." "This young woman will tell you all about it," said Chinston, nodding towards Sal, who entered the room at this moment. "She was present, and since then has managed things admirably; and now I must go," he said, shaking hands with Calton and Fitzgerald. "Keep up your heart, my boy; I'll pull her through yet." After the doctor had gone, Calton turned sharply to Sal Rawlins, who stood waiting to be addressed. "Well," he said briskly, "can you tell us what startled Miss Frettlby?" "I can, sir," she answered quietly. "I was in the drawing-room when Mr. Frettlby died--but--we had better go up to the study." "Why?" asked Calton, in surprise, as he and Fitzgerald followed her up stairs. "Because, sir," she said, when they had entered the study and she had locked the door, "I don't want any one but yourselves to know what I tell you." "More mystery," muttered Calton, as he glanced at Brian, and took his seat at the escritoire. "Mr. Frettlby went to bed early last night," said Sal, calmly, "and Miss Madge and I were talking together in the drawing-room, when he entered, walking in his sleep, and carrying some papers--" Both Calton and Fitzgerald started, and the latter grew pale.