liberal use of the whip, he managed to get his jaded horse up to a
pretty good pace. They were in Fitzroy by this time, and both cabs
turned out of Gertrude Street into Nicholson Street; thence passed on
to Evelyn Street and along Spring Street, until Brian's cab stopped at
the corner of Collins Street, and Gorby saw him alight and dismiss his
cab-man. He then walked down the street and disappeared into the
Treasury Gardens.

"Confound it," said the detective, as he got out and paid his fare,
which was by no means a light one, but over which he had no time to
argue, "we've come in a circle, and I do believe he lives in Powlett
Street after all."

He went into the gardens, and saw Brian some distance ahead of him,
walking rapidly. It was bright moonlight, and he could easily
distinguish Fitzgerald by his light coat.

As he went along that noble avenue with its elms in their winter dress,
the moon shining through their branches wrought a fantastic tracery, on
the smooth asphalte. And on either side Gorby could see the dim
white forms of the old Greek gods and goddesses--Venus Victrix, with
the apple in her hand (which Mr. Gorby, in his happy ignorance of
heathen mythology, took for Eve offering Adam the forbidden fruit);
Diana, with the hound at her feet, and Bacchus and Ariadne (which the
detective imagined were the Babes in the Wood). He knew that each of
the statues had queer names, but thought they were merely allegorical.
Passing over the bridge, with the water rippling quietly underneath,
Brian went up the smooth yellow path to where the statue of Hebe,
holding the cup, seems instinct with life; and turning down the path to
the right, he left the gardens by the end gate, near which stands the