"Not I," answered Brian. "I've come to carry you off to afternoon tea
with Madge and myself."

"I don't mind," answered Mr. Frettlby rising; "but, isn't afternoon tea
at half-past one rather an anomaly?"

"What's in a name?" said Fitzgerald, absently, as they left the room.
"What have you been doing all morning?"

"I've been in here for the last half-hour reading," answered the
other, carelessly.

"Wool market, I suppose?"

"No, the hansom cab murder."

"Oh, d--that thing!" said Brian, hastily; then, seeing his companion
looking at him in surprise, he apologised. "But, indeed," he went on,
"I'm nearly worried to death by people asking about Whyte, as if I knew
all about him, whereas I know nothing."

"Just as well you don't," answered Mr. Frettlby, as they descended the
steps together; "he was not a very desirable companion."

It was on the tip of Brian's tongue to say, "And yet you wanted him to
marry your daughter," but he wisely refrained, and they reached the
carriage in silence.

"Now then, papa," said Madge, when they were all settled in the
carriage, and it was rolling along smoothly in the direction of East