"What man?" asked Brian, starting. "Oh," he went on indifferently, as
the watcher moved away from the gate and crossed the road on to the
footpath, "he's taken up with the music, I suppose; that's all."

Madge said nothing, but she could not help thinking there was more in
it than the music. Presently Julia ceased, and she proposed to go in.

"Why?" asked Brian, who was lying back in a comfortable seat, smoking a
cigarette. "It's nice enough here."

"I must attend to my guests," she answered, rising. "You stop
here and finish your cigarette," and with a gay laugh she flitted into
the house.

Brian sat and smoked, staring out into the moonlight the while. Yes,
the man was certainly watching the house, for he sat on one of the
seats, and kept his eyes fixed on the brilliantly-lighted windows.
Brian threw away his cigarette and shivered slightly.

"Could anyone have seen me?" he muttered, rising uneasily.

"Pshaw! of course not; and the cabman would never recognise me again.
Curse Whyte, I wish I'd never set eyes upon him."

He gave one glance at the dark figure on the seat, and then, with a
shiver, passed into the warm, well-lighted room. He did not feel easy
in his mind, and he would have felt still less so had he known that the
man on the seat was one of the cleverest of the Melbourne detectives.