statue of the Dancing Faun, with the great bush of scarlet geranium
burning like an altar before it. Then he went along the Wellington
Parade, and turned up Powlett Street, where he stopped at a house near
Cairns' Memorial Church, much to Mr. Gorby's relief, who, being like
Hamlet, "fat and scant of breath," found himself rather exhausted. He
kept well in the shadow, however, and saw Fitzgerald give one final
look round before he disappeared into the house. Then Mr. Gorby, like
the Robber Captain in Ali Baba, took careful stock of the house, and
fixed its locality and appearance well in his mind, as he intended to
call at it on the morrow.

"What I'm going to do," he said, as he walked slowly back to Melbourne,
"is to see his landlady when he's out, and find out what time he came
in on the night of the murder. If it fits into the time he got out of
Rankin's cab, I'll get out a warrant, and arrest him straight off."




CHAPTER IX.



MR. GORBY IS SATISFIED AT LAST.


In spite of his long walk, and still longer drive, Brian did not sleep
well that night. He kept tossing and turning, or lying on his back,
wide awake, looking into the darkness and thinking of Whyte. Towards
dawn, when the first faint glimmer of morning came through the venetian