"What grounds can that man have for suspecting me?" he said aloud. "No
one knows I was with Whyte on that night, and the police can't possibly
bring forward any evidence to show that I was. Pshaw!" he went on,
impatiently buttoning up his coat. "I am like a child, afraid of my
shadow--the fellow on the pier is only some one out for a breath of
fresh air, as he said himself--I am quite safe."

At the same time, he felt by no means easy in his mind, and as he
stepped out on to the platform at the Melbourne station he
looked round apprehensively, as if he half expected to feel the
detective's hand upon his shoulder. But he saw no one at all like the
man he had met on the St. Kilda pier, and with a sigh of relief he left
the station. Mr. Gorby, however, was not far away. He was following at
a safe distance. Brian walked slowly along Flinders Street apparently
deep in thought. He turned up Russell Street and did not stop until he
found himself close to the Burke and Wills' monument--the exact spot
where the cab had stopped on the night of Whyte's murder.

"Ah!" said the detective to himself, as he stood in the shadow on the
opposite side of the street. "You're going to have a look at it, are
you?--I wouldn't, if I were you--it's dangerous."

Fitzgerald stood for a few minutes at the corner, and then walked up
Collins Street. When he got to the cab-stand, opposite the Melbourne
Club, still suspecting he was followed, he hailed a hansom, and drove
away in the direction of Spring Street. Gorby was rather perplexed at
this sudden move, but without delay, he hailed another cab, and told
the driver to follow the first till it stopped.

"Two can play at that game," he said, settling himself back in the cab,