battered old concertina.

"So the papers say," answered Brian, listlessly, without turning his
head.

"I wonder who the gentleman in the light coat could have been," said
Madge, as she settled herself again.

"No one seems to know," he replied evasively.

"Ah, but they have a clue," she said. "Do you know, Brian," she went
on, "that he was dressed just like you in a light overcoat and soft
hat?"

"How remarkable," said Fitzgerald, speaking in a slightly sarcastic
tone, and as calmly as he was able. "He was dressed in the same manner
as nine out of every ten young fellows in Melbourne."

Madge looked at him in surprise at the tone in which he spoke, so
different from his usual nonchalant way of speaking. She was about to
answer when the carriage stopped at the door of the Melbourne Club.
Brian, anxious to escape any more remarks about the murder, sprang
quickly out, and ran up the steps into the building. He found Mr.
Frettlby smoking complacently, and reading the AGE. As Fitzgerald
entered he looked up, and putting down the paper, held out his hand,
which the other took.

"Ah! Fitzgerald," he said, "have you left the attractions of Collins
Street for the still greater ones of Clubland?"