"Indeed!" Fitzgerald looked astonished. "In that case, I need not—"
"Yes, you need," retorted Calton. "I told you I only know half."
"Which half?"
"Hum—rather difficult to answer—however, I'll tell you what I know, and you can supply all deficiencies. I am quite ready—go on—stop—" he arose and closed the door carefully.
"Well," resuming his seat, "Mother Guttersnipe died the other night."
"Is she dead?"
"As a door nail," answered Calton calmly. "And a horrible death-bed it was—her screams ring in my ears yet—but before she died she sent for me, and said—"
"What?"
"That she was the mother of Rosanna Moore."
"Yes!"