LEWIS M. GRIST, ^oprietor^"^^ ^ |^nd^?iitoi^m^|tosp^T"^ ~ ^ TERMS?$2.00 A TEA? IN ABVAHCE.
VOL7S6! YOEIvVILLE, S. C., 'WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1890. * NO. 45.
; ; ? - -
MYSTERY OF ]
BY FERGtT?
CHAPTER VL
KB. OORBY MAlfM FUBTHEB OBCOVEBIE&
When Mr. Gorby left Possum Villa no
doubt remained in his mind as to who had
committed the murder. The gentleman In
the light coat had threatened to murder
Whyte, even in tho open street?these last
words being especially significant?and there
was no doubt that he had carried out his
threat What the detective had now to do.
was to find who tho gentleman in the light
coat was, where he lived, and, having found
out these facts, ascertain his doings on the
night of the murder. Mrs. Hableton had described
him, but was ignorant of his name,
and her very vague description might apply
to dozens of young men in Melbourne. There
/Was only one person who, in Mr. Corby's
opinion, could tell the name of the gentleman
In the light coat, and that was Moreland, the
intimate friend of the dead man. What
puzzled the detective was that Moreland
should be ignorant of his friend's tragic
death, seeing that the papers were full of the
murder, and that the reward gave an excellent
description of the personal appearance
of the deceased. The only way In which
Qorby could account for Homeland's extraordinary
silence was that be was out of town,
and had neither seen the papers nor beard
any one talking about the murder. If this
was the case he might either stay away for
an indefinite time or might come back after a
few days. At all events it was worth while
going down to St. Hilda in the evening on
the chance that. Moreland might have returned
to town and would catt and see his
friend. So, after his tea, Mr. Qorby put on
his hat an^ went down to Possum Villa on
what he could not help {acknowledging to
himself was a very slender possibility.
Mrs. Hableton opened the door for him,
and in silence led the way into her own
sitting room.
They were barely seated when a knock
came at the front door, loud and decisive, on
hearing which Mrs. Hableton sprang hastily
to her feet. "That may be Mr. Moreland,"
she said. "I never *ave visitors in the
evenln', beta' a lone widder, and if It is 1m
I'll bring 1m in 'ere."
She went ont, and presently Qorby, who
was listening intently, beard a man's voice
ask if Mr. Whyte was at borne. "No, sir, be
aint," answered the landlady, "but there's a
gentleman in his room askin' after 1m.
Want you come in, sirf"
"For a rest, yes," returned the visitor, and
Immediately afterwards Mrs. Hableton appeared,
ushering in the late Oliver Wbytet
fwUnrl Ho WOO A t?ll BlpnHpP
man, with a pink and white complexion,
early fair hair, and a drooping straw colored
mustache?altogether a strikingly aristocratic
individual Be was well dressed in a
fashionable.suit of check, and had a cool,
nonchalant air about him.
"And where is Mr. Whyte to-night!" he
asked, linking into a chair, and taking no
more notice of the detective than if he had
been an article of furniture,
"Havent you seen him lately!" asked the
detective, quickly. Mr. Moreland stared in
an insolent manner at his questioner for a
few moments, as if he were debating the advisability
of answering or not At last he
apparently decided that ho would, for slowly
pulling off one glove he leaned back in his
chair
"Ho, 1 have not" he said, with a yawn.
"I have been up the country for a few days,
and only arrived back this evening, so 1 have
not seen him for over a week. Why do you
ask!"
The detective did not answer, but stood
looking at tbe young man before him in a
thoughtful manner.
"I hope," said Moreland, nonchalantly, "1
hope you will know mo again, my friend; but
1 didst know Whyte had started a lunatic
asylum during my absence. Who are your
Mr. Gorby came forward and stood under
the gaslight "My name is Gorby, sir, and 1
am a detective," be said quietly.
"AhI indeed," said Moreland, coolly looking
him up and down. "What has .Whyte
frewi doing, running away with some one's
wife, ehf 1 know he has little weaknesses of
that sort"
Gorby shook his bead.
"Do yon know where Mr. Whyte Is to be
found P be asked cautiously.
Morelanpl laughed.
"Not I, my friend," said be lightly. "1
presume he is somewhere about here, as these
are his headquarters. What's he been doing?
Nothing that can surprise me, I assure you?
he was always an erratic individual,
and"
"He paid reg'ler," Interrupted Mrs. Hableton,
pursing up her lips.
"A most enviable reputation to possess,"
answered tbe other with a sneer, "and one
I'm afraid I'll never enjoy. But why all this
questioning about Whyte? What's the matter
with himT
"He's deadl" said Gorby, abruptly.
All Moreland's nonchalance vanishod on
hearing this, he started up out of his
chair.
"Dead," he repeated mechanically. "What
do you mean?"
"I mean that Mr. Oliver Whyte was murdered
in a hansom cab."
Moreland stared at the detective in a puzzled
sort of way, and passed his hand across
his forehead.
"Excuse mo, my head is in a whirl," be
said, as be sat down again. "Whyte murdered!
He was all right when 1 left him
nearly two weeks ago."
"Haver t yon seen the papersf asked
Gorby.
"Not for the last two weeks," replied Moreland.
"i have been up country, and it was
only on arriving back in town to-night that
1 heard about tbe,murder at all, as my landlady
gave me a garbled account of it, but 1
never for a moment connected it with Whyte,
and came down here to see him, as I had
agreed to do when I left Poor fellow I poor
fellow I poor fellow I" and much overcome,
he buried his face in his hands.
Mr. Gorby was touched by his evident distress,
and even Mrs. Hableton permitted a
small tear to roll down one bard cheek as a
tribute of sorrow and sympathy. Presently
Moreland raised his head, and spoke to Gorby
in a husky tone.
"Tell me all about it," be said, leaning his
cheek on his hand. "Everything you know."
He placed his elbows on the table, and
buried his face in his hand3 again, while the
detective sat down and related all that he
knew about Whyte's murder. When it was
done he lifted np his head, and looked sadly
at the detective.
"If 1 had been in town," he said, "this
would not have happened, for I was always
beside Whyte."
"You knew him very well, sir?" said the
detective, in a sympathetic tone.
"We were like brothers," replied Moreland,
mournfully. "I came out from England
in the same steamer with him, and used
to visit him constantly here."
Mrs. Hableton nodded her head to Imply
that such was the case.
"In fact;" said Mr. Moreland, after a moment's
thought, "I believe 1 was with him
the night he was murdered."
Mrs. Hableton gave a slight scream, and
threw her apron over her face, but the defective
sat unmoved, though Moreland's last
remark had considerably startled him.
"What's the matter?" said Moreland, turning
to Mrs. Hableton. "Don't be afraid; I
didnt kill him; no, but I met him last
Thursday week, and I left for the country on
Friday morning at half-past 6."
"And what time did you meet Whyte on
Thursday night?" asked Gorby.
"Let mo see," said Moreland, crossing his
legs and looking thoughtfully up to the ceiling,
"it was about half-past 0 o'clock. I
was in the Orient hotel, on Bourke street.
We had a drink together and then went up
the street to a hotel in Russell street, where
we had another. In fact," said Moreland,
coolly, "we naa several otner armies."Yes."
said Gorby, placidly. "Go on."
"Well of?it's hardly the thing to confess
it," said Moreland, looking from one to the
other with a pleasant smile, "but in a case
like this, 1 feel it my duty to throw all social
scruples aside. We both got very drunk."
"Ahl Whyte was, as we know, drunk
when he got into the cab?and you P
"Was not quite so bad as Whyte," answered
the other. "I had my senses about
me. I fancy he left the hotel some minutes
before 1 o'clock on Friday morning."
"And what did you doP
"I remained in the hotel. He left his overcoat
behind him, and I picked it up and followed
him shortly afterward to return it. I
was too drunk to see what direction he had
gone in, and stood leaning against the hotel
door in Bourke street with the coat in my
hand. Then some one came up, and, snatching
the coat out of my hand, made off with
it, and the last thing I remember was shouting
out, 'Stop, thiefP Then I must have
fallen down, for next morning I was in bed
with all my clothes on, and they were very
muddy. I got up and left town for the country
by the 6:30 train, so I knew nothing
about the matter until I came back to Melbourne
to-night That's all I know."
"And you had no impression that Whyte
was watched that nightP
"No. I had not," answered Moreland,
lIANSOICAB.
9 W. MUMB.
franldy. "He was in pretty good spb is,
though be was put out at first,"
" What was the cause of his beiug put w -f"
Moreland arose, and, going to a side t* ie,
brought YVbyte's album, which he laid on the
table and opened hi silence. Tho contents
were very much the same_as tho photographs
In the room, burlesque actresses and ladies of
the baJlet predominating; but Mr. MoreLind
turned over the pages till nearly tho end,
when he stopped at a large cabinet photograph,
^nd pushed the album toward Air.
Gorby.
That was the cause," he said.
It was tho portrait of a charmingly pretty
girl, dressed in white, with a sailor bat on
her fair bair, and holding a lawn tenuis
racket. She was bending half forward, with
a winning smile, and in the background was
a mass of some tropical plants. Mrs. Hable
ton gave a cry of surprise at seeing inis.
"Why, it's Miss Frettlby," she said. How
did he know herf*
"Knew her father?letters of introduction,
and all that sort of thing." said Mr. Moreland,
glibly.
"Ah, indeed/" 6aid Mr. Gorby slowly.
"So Mr. Wbyte knew Mark Frettlby, the
millionaire; but how did be obtain a photo
graph of the daughter/"
"She gave it to him," said Moreland
"The fact is, Whyte was very much in love
with Miss Frettlby."
"And she"
"Was in love with some one else," finished
Moreland.
"Exactly I"
"Yea, she loved a Mr. Brian Fitzgerald,
to whom she is now engaged. He was
mad od her, and Whyte and be usee! to
quarrel over the young lady desperately."
"Indeedl" said Mr. Gorby "And do you
know this Mr. FitzgeraldT
"Oh, dear, nor' answered the other, coolly.
" Whyte s friends were not min& He was a
rich young man who had good Introductions.
I am only a poor devil on the outskirts of
society, trying to push my way in the
world."
"You know his personal appearance of
courser observed Mr. Gorby
"Oh, yes, 1 can tell you that," said Moreland.
"In fact, he's not at all unlike roe,
which 1 take to be rather a compliment, as
be is said to be good looking. He is tall,
rather fair, talks in a bored sort of manner,
and is altogether what one would call a
heavy swell; but you must have seen bim,"
be went on, turning to Mra Hableton. "he
was here throe or four weeks ago, Whyte
told me."
"Oh, that was Mr. Fitzgerald, was ltr
cnM Mm Hohleton. in surnrisa "Yen, ho
was rather like you; and so the lady thoy
quarreled over must have been Miss ?ret
tlby."
"Very likely," said Moreland, rising.
"Well, I'm off. Here's my address," putting
a card in Corby's band. "I'm glad to be of
any use to you in this matter, as Whyto was
my dearest friend, and I'll do oil in my power
to help you to And out the murderer."
"I dont think that is a very difficult matter,"
said Mr. Corby, slowly.
"Oh, you have suspicionsr said Moreland,
looking at him.
"I have."
"Then whodoyou think murdered Whytof
Mr. Corby paused a moment, and then said
deliberately:
"1 have an idea?but I am not certain?
when I am certain, Til speak."
"You think Fitzgerald killed my friend,"
said Moreland. "1 seo it in your face."
Mr Uorby smiiea. "remaps, ue saiu,
ambiguously. "Waittill 1 am certain."
CHAPTER VIL
a wool kino.
Mark Frettlby was one of those fortunate
individuals who turnea everything he
touched into gold. His luck was proverbial
throughout Australia. If there wan any
speculation for which Mark Frettlby went
in, other men would be sure to follow, and in
every case the result turned out as welt, and
in many cases even better than they expected.
He had come out in the early days
of the colony with comparatively little
money, but his great perseverance and never
failing luck had soon changed his hundreds
into thousands, and now at the age of 55 he
did not himself know the extent of his income.
He had large stations scattered all
over the colony of Victoria, which brought
him in a splendid iucome; a charming country
house, where at certain seasons of the* year
be dispensed hospitality to his friends, like
the lord of an English manor, and a magnificent
town bouse down in St Hilda, which
would not have been unworthy of Park lane.
Nor were his domestic relations lees happy.
He had a charming wife, who wbs one of the
best known and most popular ladies of Melbourne,
and an equally charming daughter,
who, being both pretty and au heiress, naturally
attracted crowds of suitors. But Madge
Frettlby was capricious, and refused innumerable
offers. Being an extremely independent
young person, with a mind of her
own, as she had not yet seen any one she
could love, she decided to remain single, and
with her mother continued to dispense the
hospitality of the mansion at St. Hilda. But
the fairy prince comes to every woman, even
if she has to wait a hundred years like the
Sleeping Beauty, and in this case he arrived
at the appointed time. Ahl what a delight
ful prince he was, tall, handsome arid fair
haired, who came from Ireland, and answered
to the name of Brian Fitzgerald. He had
left behind him In the old country a mined
castle and a few acres of barren land, inhabited
by discontented tenants who refuse!
to pay the rent, and talked darkly about tbe
Land league and other disagreeable things.
Under these circumstances, with no rent
coming in, and no prospect of doing anything
in the future, Brian had left the castle of his
forefathers to the rats and the family banshee,
and came out to Australia to mtike his
fortune. He brought letters of introduction
to Mark Frettlby, and that gentleman, having
taken a fancy to him, assisted t.lm by
every means In his power. Under Frettlby's
advice Brian bought a station, and, to his
astonishment, in a few years found himself
growing rich. The Fitzgeralds had always
been more famous for spending than for
saving, and it was an agreeable surprise to
their latest representative to find the money
rolling in instead of out. He began to indulge
in castles In tbe air concerning that
other castle in Ireland, with the barren acres
and discontented tenants. In his mind's eye
he saw the old place rise up in all its ]jristine
splendor out of Its ruins; he saw the barren
acres well cultivated, and the tenants happy
and content?ho was rather doubtful on
this latter point, but, with the rath confidence
of eightrand-twenty, determined to do
his best to perform even the impossible.
Having built end furnished his castle in the
air, Brian naturally thought of giving it a
mistress, and this time actual appearance
took the place of vision. He fell in love with
Madge Frettlby, and having decided in bis
own mind that she and none other was fitted
to grace the visiouary halls of his renovated
castle, ho watched his opportunity and declared
himself. She, woman like, coquetted
with him for some time, but at last, unable
to withstand the impetuosity of her Irish
lover, confessed in a low voice, with a pretty
smile on her face, that she could not live
without him. Whereupon?well?lovers being
of a conservative turn of mind, ind aocustomed
to observe the traditional forms of
wooing, the result can easily be guessed.
Brian hunted all over the jewelers' shops in
Melbourne with love like assiduity, and having
obtained a ring wherein were sat some
turquois stones as blue as his own eyes, he
placed it on her slender finger, and at last
felt that his engagement was an accomplished
fact. This being satisfactorily arranged, he
next proceeded to interview the father, and
had just screwed his courage up to the awful
ordeal, when something occurred which
postponed the interview Indefinitely. Mrs.
Frettlby was out driving, when tbe horses
took fright and bolted. The coachman and
groom both escaped unhurt, but Mrs. Frettlby
was throwu out and killed instantaneously.
This was the first really great trouble
which had fallen on Mark Frettlby, and ho
seemed to be stunned by It Shutting
himself up in bis room he refused to see
any one, even his daughter, and appeared at
the funeral with a white and haggard face,
which shocked every oue. When everything
was over, and the body of the late Mrs.
Frettlby wus consigned to the earth with all
the pomp and ceremony which money could
give, the bereaved husband rode home and
resumed bis old life. But be was never the
same again. His face, which had always
been so genial and bright became stern and
sad. He seldom smiled, and when he did it
was a faint, wintry smile, which seemed
mechanical. His whole heart seemed centered
In his daughter. She became the sole
mistress of the St. Hilda mansion, and ber
father idolized her. She seemed to be the
one thing left to him which gave him an Interest
In life, and hod It not been for ber
bright presence constantly near him, Mark
Frettlby would have wished himself lying
beside his dead wife in the quiet graveyard,
where there is no trouble or care. After a
time had elapsed Brian again resolved to ask
Mr. Frettlby for the hand of his daughter
when for the second time fate interposed.
This time it was a rival suitor who made his
appearance, and Brian's hot Irish temper
roee when be saw another Richmond in the
field The gentleman in question was a Mr.
Oliver Whyte, who had come out from
England a few months previously, and
brought a letter of introduction to Mr.
Frettlby, who received him hospitably, as
was his custom, and Whyte soon made himself
perfectly at home in the St Kilda mansion.
Brian took a dislike to the new comer the
first time ho saw him, for Mr. Fitzgerald was
a student of Lavater, and prided himself on
his reading of character His opinion of
Whyte was anything but flattering to that
gentleman, for in spite of bis handsome face
and suave manners, both Brian and Madge
felt the same repulsion toward him as they
would have to a snake Mr. Whyte, however,
with true diplomacy, affected not to
notice the cold way in which Madge received
him, and began to pay marked atteution to
her, much to Brian's disgust. At last he
asked her to bo his wife, and notwithstanding
her prompt refusal, spoke to Mr. Frettlby
on the subject Much to the daughter's astonishment
that gentleman consented to
lUKtrfo'o norinrr hio n/MrofifiAat/i Mflrfffft. find
told ber that be wished her to consider the
young man's proposal favorably. In spito of
all Madge could say, bo refused to alter his
decision, and Whyte, feeling himself safe,
began to treat Brian with an insolence which
was highly galling to Fitzgerald's proud
natura Ho called on Whyte at bis lodgings,
and after a violent quarrel with him had left
the house, vowing to kill Whyte should be
marry Madge Frettlby. Fitzgerald went
alone to Mr. Frettlby that same night, and
had an interview with him. He confessed
that he loved Madge, and that his love was
returned. 80, when Madge added her entreaties
to Brian's, Mr. Frettlby found himself
unable to withstand the combined
forces, and gave his consent to their engagement
Whyte was absent in the country for
the next few days after his stormy interview
with Brian, and it was only on his return
that be learnt that Madgo was engaged to
his rival. He saw Mr. Frettlby on the subject,
and having learnt from his own lips
that such was the case, he left the house at
once, and swore that he would never enter it
again. He little knew bow prophetio his
words were, for on that 6ome night he met
his death in a hansom cab. He had passed
out of the life of both the lovers, and they,
glad that he troubled them no more, never
suspected for a moment that the body of the
unknown man found in iioyston's cab was
that of Oliver Whyte.
. About two weeks after Whyte's disappearance
Mr. Frettlby gave a dinner party in
nonor or Dis oauguters Dircnaaj. it was a
delightful evening, and the wide French windows
which led on to the veranda were open,
letting in a gentle breeze, blowing with a
fresh, salt odor from the ocean. Outside
there was a kind of screen of tropical plants,
and through the tangle of the boughs the
guests, seated at the table, could just see the
waters of the bay glittering like silver in the
pale moonlight. Brian was seated opposite
to Madge, and every now and then be caught
a glimpse of her bright face behind the great
silver epergne, filled with fruit and flowers,
which stood in the center of the table. Mark
Frettlby was at the bead of the table, and
appeared in very good spirits, for bis stern
features were somewhat relaxed, and he
drank more wine than usuaL The soup had
just been removed when some one who was
late entered with apologies and took his seat
Some one iu this case was Mr. Felix Holleston,
one of the best known young men in Melbourna
He had an income of his own, scribbled
a little for the papers, was to be seen at
every house of any pretensions to fashion in
Melbourne, and was always bright, happy
and full of news. Whenever any scandal oc
curred Felix Rolleston was sure to know it
first, and could tell more about it than any
one else. He knew everything that was
going on, both at home and abroad. His
knowledge, if not very accurate, was at least
extensive, and his conversation was piquant
and witty. As Calton, one of the leading
lawyers of the city, said, "Rolleston -put him
in mind of what Beaconfield said of one of
his characters in 'Lothair,' 'He wasnt an intellectual
Croesus, but his pockets were
always full of sixpences.'" There was a good
deal of truth in Calton's remark, and Felix
always distributed bis sixpences freely. The
conversation had been dull for the last few
minutes at the Frettlby dinner table; consequently
when Felix arrived everybody
brightened up, as they felt certain now that
the conversation would be amusing.
"So awfully sorry, dou't you know," said
Felix, as he slipped into a seat by Madge;
"but a fellow like me has got to be careful of
his time?so many calls on it"
"So many calls in it, you mean," retorted
Madge with a disbelieving smile. "Confess,
now, you have been paying a round of
visits."
"Well, yes," assented Mr. Rolleston;
"that's the disadvantage of having a large
circlo of acquaintance They give you
weak tea and thin bread and butter,
whereas"
"You would rather have a B. and S. and
some deviled kidneys," finished Brian.
There was a laugh at this, but Mr. Rolleston
disdained to notice tho interruption.
"The only advantage of 5 o'clock tea,"
be went on, "is that it brings people
together, and one hears what's going on."
' Ah, yes, Rolleston," said Mr. Frettlby,
who was looking at him with an amused
smile. "What news have you?"
"Good news, bad news, and such news as
you have never heard of," quoted Rolleston
gravely. "Yes, 1 have a bit of news.
Haven't you hoard it?"
As no one knew what the uewB was they
could not very well say that they had, so
Rollestou was happy, having found out that
he could make a sensation. ?
"Well, do you know," he said, gravely
fixing in his eyeglass, "they found out the
name of the fellow that wat murdered in the
hansom cabT'
"Never!" cried every one eagealy.
"Yes," went on Rolleston, "and what's
more, you all know him."
"It's never Wbyte?" said Brian, in a horrified
tone.
"Hang it, how did you know?" said Rolleston,
rather annoyed at being forestalled.
"Why, I just beard it at the St. Kilda
station."
"Oh, easily enough," said Brian, rather
confused. "I used to see Whyte constantly,
and as 1 had not 6et eyes on him for the last
two weeks, I thought it might be him." '
"How did they find out who it was?" asked
Mr. Frettlby, idly toying with his wine
gauss.
"Oh, one of those detective fellows, you
know," answered Felix. "They know every
thing."
"1 am sorry to hear it," said Frettlby, referring
to the fact that Wliyte was murdered.
"He bad a letter of Introduction to me, and
soemed a clever, pushing young fellow.*
"A confounded cad," muttered Felix,
under bis breath, and Brian, who overheard
him. seemed inclined to assent.
For the rest of the meal nothing was talked
about but the murder and the mystery in
which it was shrouded. When the ladles
retired they chatted about it in the drawing
room, but finally dropped it for more agreeable
subjjcta The gentlemeu, however,
when the cloth had been removed, filled their
glasses, and continued their discussion with
unabated vigor. Brian alone did not take
part in the conversation. Ho sat moodily
staring at bis uutasted wine, and wrapjied in
a brown study.
CHAPTER VIIL
BRIAN TAKES A WALK AND A DRIVE.
When the gentlemen entered the drawing
room a young lady was engaged in playing
one of those detestable pieces of music called
morccau de salon, in which an unoffending
air is taken and variations embroidered on it
till it bocomes a perfect agony to distinguish
the tune amid the perpetual rattle of quavers
and demi-serai-quavers.
Brian quickly found his way to Madge's
6ide. The talk drifted on to the subject of
Whyte's death.
"I never did like him," 6ho said, "but It
was horriblo to think of him dying like
that"
"I don't know,"answered Brian, gloomily;
"from all 1 can hear, chloroform is a very
easy doath."
"Death can never be easy," replied Madge,
"especially to a young man so full of health
and spirits as Mr. Whyto was."
"I believe you are sorry he's dead," said
Brian, jealously.
"Aren't you/"' she asked in some surprise.
"De mortuls nil nisi bonum," quoted Fitzgerald;
"but as I detested him when alive,
you can't expect mo to regret his end."
Madge did not answer him, but glanced
quickly at his face, and for the first timo it
struck her that he looked ilL
"What is the matter with you, dear?" she
asked, placing her hand on his arm. "You
are not looking welL"
"Nothing?nothing," he answered hurriedly.
"I've been a little worried about
business lately; but come," he said, rising,
"let us go outside, for I see your father has
got that girl with tho steam whistle voice to
ring."
The girl with the steam whistle voice was
Julia Featherweight, the sister of Rolleston's
inamorata, and Madge stilled a laugh as she
went out on tho veranda with Fitzgerald.
"What a shame of you," she said, bursting
into a laugh when they were safely outside;
"she's been taught by the best masters."
"What ttt the matter with you, dearf"
^ow 1 pity them," retorted lirian, grimly,
as Julia wailed out, "Meet mo once again,"
with an ear piercing shrillness. "I'd much
rather listen to our ancestral banshee, and as
to meet her again, one interview would be
more than enough."
Madge did not answer, but leaning lightly
over the high rail of tho veranda looked
out Into tho beautiful moonlight night
There were a number of people passing along
the Esplanade, some of whom stopped and
listened to Julia's Bhrill notes, which being
. . - jij I- *
meliowea oy uu>uiui-?, unu? uu>? ouuuu,.-u
rather nice. One man in particular seemed
to have taste for music, for he persistently
stared over the fence at the house. Brian
and Madge talked of all sorts of things, but
every time Madge looked up she saw the man
watching the house.
"What does that man want, Brian 7" 6he
asked.
"What manT asked Brian, starting. "Oh,"
he went on indifferently, as tho man moved
away from tho gate and crossed tho road on
to the footpath, "he's taken up with the
music, I suppose; that's all."
Madge did not say anything, but could not
help thinking there was more in it than the
music. Presently Julia ceased, and she proposed
to go in.
"Whyf" 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 bouse liko a shadow.
Brian sat and smoked, staring out into the
moonlight meanwhile. 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 any one have seen mef he muttered,
rising uneasily. "Pshaw I of course not, and
the cabman would never recognize me again.
Curse Whyte, "I wish I'd never sot 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. Ho did not
feel easy in his mind, and he would have felt
still less so had be known that tho man on
the seat was one of tho cleverest of the Melbourne
detectives.
Mr. Gorby hod been watching the Frettlby
mansion the whole evening, and was getting
rather annoyed. Moreland did not know
where Fitzgerald lived, and as the detective
wanted to find out, he determined to watch
Brian's movements and trace him home.
"If he's that pretty girl's lover, I'll wait
till he loaves the house," argued Mr. Gorby
to himself, whcu he first took his seat on the
Esplanade. "He won't stay long away from
her, and once he leaves the house I'll follow
him up till I find out where ho lives."
When Brian mode his appearance early in
the evening on his way to Mark Frettlby's
mansion, he was in evening dress, with a
light coat over it, and also had on a soft hat.
"Well, I'm dushedl" ejaculated Mr. Gorby,
when ho 6aw Fitzgerald disappear; "if he
isn't a fool 1 don't know who is, to go about
in the very clothes he wore when he polished
Why to off, and think ho won't be recognized.
Melbourne ain't Paris or London, that he can
afford to be so careless, and when 1 put the
darbies ou him he will be astonished. Ah,
well," he went on, lighting bis pipe and
taking a seat on the Esplanade, "1 supposo
I'll have to wait here till be comes out."
Mr. Gorby's patience was pretty severely
tried, for hour after hour passed and no one
appeared. Then he saw Madge and Brian
come out on the veranda, and heard Miss
Featherweight's shrill voice singing, which
?? --J ? J In rtillnoco
suuuueu weiru tuiu uucai i.uij n< vuw onuuvw
of the night. Ho saw Madgo go In, and then
Brian, the latter turning and staring at him
for a minute or so.
"Abl" said Gorby to hhnself, relighting
bis pipe, "your conscience is a-smiting you, is
it' Wait till you're in jaiL"
Then the guests came out of the house and
disappeared one by one, black figures in the
moonlight, after kisses and handshaking.
Shortly afterwards Brian came down the
path with Frettlby by his sido and Madge
hanging on to her father's aria Frottlby
opened the gate and held out bis band.
"Good-night, Fitzgerald," ho said, In a
hearty voice; "come down soon agaia"
"Good-night, Bryan, dearest," said Madge,
kissing him, "and don't forget to-morrow."
Then father and daughter closed the gate,
leaving Brian outside, and walked back to
tbo house.
"AhI" said Gorby to himself, "if you only
knew what I know, you wouldn't bo so precious
kind to him."
Brian walked, strollod along the Esplanade,
and then crossiug over, passed by Gorby and
walked on till ho was opposite the Esplanade
hotel. Then be lighted a cigaretto and
walked down the steps on to tbo pier.
"Suicide, is itr muttered Mr. Gorby to
himself, as he saw the tall, block figure
striding resolutely on, a long way ahead.
"Not if 1 can help It" So he lighted his
pipe, and strolled down the pier in on apparently
aimless manner.
Ho found Brian loaning over the parapet
at tbo end of the pier, and looking at the
glittering waters beneuth, which kept rising
and falling in a dreamy'rhythm, thatsoothed
and charmed the ear. "Poor girll poor girl!"
the detective heard him mutter as he came
up. "If she only knew all 1 If she"'
At this moment ho heard the approaching
step, and turned round sharply The detective
saw that his face was ghastly pale In the
moonlight, and his brows wrinkled angrily.
"What the devil do you wantl" he burst
out, as Gorby paused. "What do you mean
by following me all over the placer1
"Saw me watching the house," said Gorby
to himself. "I'm not following you, sir," he
said aloud. "I supposo the pier ain't private
property. I only came down hero for a
breath or rresn air."
Fitzgerald did not answer, but turned
sharply on his heel, and walked quickly up
the pier, leaving Gorby staring after him.
"He's getting frightened," soliloquized tho
detectivo to himself, as ho strolled easily
along, keeping the black figure iu front well
In view. "I'll have to keep a sharp eye on
him or ho'll boclearing out of Victoria."
Brian walked quickly up to the St Kilda
station, for on looking at his watch ho found
be would just have time to catch the last
train. He arrived a few minutes before it
started, so, getting into tho smoking carriage
at the tiear end of tho platform, bo lit a
cigarette, and, leaning back in bis seat,
watched late comers hurrying into tho station.
Just as tho last bell rang ho saw a man
rush along, who seemed likely to miss tho
train. It was tho samo man who bad been
watching him tho wholo evening, and Brian
felt confident that he was following him. Ho
comforted himself, however, with tho thought
thnt this pertinacious follower would lose tho
train, and, being in tho lost carriage himself,
ho kept a lookout along tho platform,
expecting to seo his friend of tho Esplanade
standing disappointed on it. There was 110
appcaranco of him, however, so Brian, sinking
back into his scat, cursed his ill luck in
not having shaken off this man who kept him
under such strict surveillance.
"T"> hl'jnt" ?,o "1 nr.
pect ho will follow mo to East Melbourne,
and find out where I live, but ho shan't if I
can help it"
There was no one In the carriago except
himself, on which ho felt a sense of relief, for
he was in that humor which comes on mon
sometimes of talking to himself.
"Murdered in a cab," ho said, lighting a
fresh cigarette, and blowing a cloud of
smoke. "A romance in real life, which beats
Miss Braddon hollow. Thero is ono thing
certain, ho won't como between Madge and
mo again. Poor Madge 1" with an impatient
siglu "If slio only knew all, thero would not
bo much chance of our marriago; but she
can never find out, and I don't suppose any
one clso ever will."
Hero n sudden thought struck him, and
rising out of his seat, ho walked to tlio other
end of tko carriago and threw himself on tho
cushions, as if desirous of escapo from himBelf.
"What grounds can that man have for
susjKjctlng inef" ho said aloud. "No ono
knows I was with Whyto on that night, and
tho |K)llco can't jtossibly bring forward any
evidence to show that I was. Pshaw I" ho
went on, impatiently buttoning up his coat.
"I am liko a child, afraid of my shadow?tho
fellow on the pier Is ouly somo ono out for a
breath of fresh air, as ho said himself?I am
quite 6nfo."
All tho samo ho did not feel easy in hi9
mind, and when the train arrived at the
Melbourne station he stepped out on to the
platform with a shiver and a quick look
round, as if he expected to feel the detective's
hand on his shoulder. He saw no one,
however, at all like the man he had met on
the St Kilda pier, and with a sigh of relief,
left the station. Mr. Gorby, however, was
on the watch, and followed him at a safe distance
along the platform. Brian left the
station and walked jdowly along Flinders
street, apparently.in?deep thought When
be got to Russell street he turned up there,
and did not stop until he came close to the
Burke and Wills monument in the very
place where the cab had stopped on the night
of Whyte's murder. B
"Ahl" said the detective to himself, as he
stood in the shadow on the opposite side of
the street "You're |oiug to have a look at
it are youf 1 wouldn't, if 1 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
is direction rf Spring street Gorby was
rather perplexed at this sudden move, but
without delay he hailed another cab and told
1L. *111 fa. I
LUU driver \aj iujiu? wjw uiou uii 11/ biajjjjxxl.
"Two can piny at that game," be said, settling
himself back itj the cab, "and I'll get
the better of you, clever as yon are?and you
are clever," he went tjp in a tone of admiration,
as ho looked rouid the luxurious hansom,
"to choose wfcu convenient place for
a murder; no vdbturbance and plenty of
time for escapo after you had finished; it's
a pleasure going altera chap like you instead
of men who tumble down like ripe
fruit, and ain't got any brains to keep their
crime quiet."
While the detective thus soliloquized his
cab, following on the trail of the other, had
turned down Spring street and was being
driven rapidly along the Wellington parade
in the direction of East Melbourne. It then
turned up Powlett street, at which Mr.
Gorby exulted.
"Aint so clever as I thought," he said to
himself. "Shows his nest right off, without
any attempt to hide it."
The detective, however, bad reckouod
without his host, for the cab in front kept
driving on, through an interminable maze of
streets, until it seemed as if Brian was determined
never to stop the whole night
at ?t- i .i.iii ru.u.u ?
"L/Wtt 6IV, ftu I VI icu uui uj a utuuwu
looking through his trapdoor in the roof of
the hansom, "'ow long's this'ere game a-goin'
to larsti My 'oss is knocked up, 'e is, and 'is
blessed old legs a-givin'away under 1ml"
"Goonl go on I" answered the detective,
impatiently; "111 pay you well."
The cabman's spirits were raised by this,
and by dint of coaxing and a liberal use of
the silk, be managed to get his Jaded horse
up to a pretty good pace. They were in
Fitzroy by this time, and then both cabe
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 bis cabman.
He then walked down the street and
disappeared into the Treasury garden*.
"Confound it," said the detective, as begot
out and paid his fare, which was not by any
means a light one, but over which be bad no
time to argue, "we've come in a circle, and 1
do believe be 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 He
left the gardens by the end gate 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
tho shadow, however, and saw Fitzgerald
give one final look around before he disappeared
into the house. Then Mr. Gorby, like
ihe Robber Cuptain in "Ali Baba," took care
ful stock of the house, and fixed its locality
and appearance well in his mind, as be iuteuded
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 be came iu 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.
MIL GORBY [S SATISFIED AT LAST.
in spite of bis long walk and still longer
drive Brian did not sleep well that night. He
kept tossing and turning, or else lying on
bis back wide awake, looking into the darkness
and thinking of Whyto. Toward dawn,
when the first faint glimmer of -morning
came through the Venetian blinds, he fell
into a sort of uneasy doze, haunted by horrible
dreams. He thought he was driving in
a hansom, when suddenly ho found Whyte
by his side, clad in whito cerements, grinning
and gibbering at him with ghastly merriment.
Then the cab went over a precipice,
and ho fell from a great height down, down,
with the mocking laughter still sounding in
his ears, until he woke with a loud cry and
found it was broad daylight, and that drops
of perspiration were standing on his brow.
It was no good trying,to sleep any longer, so,
with a weary sigh, he arose and went for his
tub, feeling jaded and worn out by worry
and wont of sleep. His bath did him some
good, as the cold water brightened him up
and pulled him together. Still ho could not
help giving a start of surprise when hejaw
his face looking at him from the mirror, old
and haggard looking, with dark circles round
the eyes.
"A pleasant life I'm going to have of it If
this sort of thing goes on," he said bitterly;
"I wish to G? I had never seen or heard of
Whyte."
Ho dressed himself carefully, however, for
Brian was a man who nover neglected his
toilet, however worried and out of sorts he
might foeL Yet, notwithstanding his offorta
to throw off his gloom and fee.l cheerful, his
landlady was startled when she saw "how
haggard and wan his handsome face looked
in the searching morning light
She was a small, dried up little woman,
with a wrinkled, yellow face, and looked so
parched and brittle that strangers could not
help thinking it would do her good if she were
soaked in water for a year, in order to soften
her a little. Whenever she moved she
crackled, and one was in constant dread of seeing
one of her wizen looking limbs break off
short, like the branch of a dead tree. When
she spoke it was in a hard, shrill volco, like a
cricket; and being dressed in a faded brown
silk, what with her voice and attenuated
body, she was not unlike that noisy insect.
She crackled into Brian's sitting room with
The Argus and coffee, and a look of dismay
came over her stony faco as she saw his
altered looks.
"Dear me, sir," she chirped out in her
shrill voice, as she placed her burden on the
table, "are you took bad?"
Brian shook his head.
"Want of sleep, that's all, Mrs. Sampson,"
he answered, unfolding The Argus.
"Ah! that's because ye ain't got enough
blood in yer'ead,"said Sirs. Sampson, wisely,
for she had her own ideas on the subject of
health. "If you ain't got blood you ain't
got sleep."
Brian looked at her as she said thl3, for
there seemed such an obvious want of blood
fti her veins that he wondered if sho hod ever
slept in all her life.
However, ho said nothing, but merely intimated
that if she would leave the room he
would take his breakfast.
"An' if you wunts anythin' else, Mr. Fitzgerald,"
she said, going to the door, "you
knows your way to the bell as easily as I do
to the kitchen," and, with a final chirrup, sho
crackled out of the room.
Brian drank his coffee, but pushed away
the food which was before him, and then
looked through Tho Argus to see the latest
reports about tho murder case. What he
read marie his cheek turn even paler than it
was, and ho could feel his heart beating
loudly.
"They've found a clew, have they J" ho muttered,
rising and pacing restlessly up and
down. "1 wonder what it cuii bef 1 threw
that man off tho scent last night, but if ho
suspects mo there will be no difficulty in him
finding out where I live. Bahl What nonsense
I am talking. 1 am tho victim of my
own morbid imagination. There is nothing
to connect me with the crime, so 1 need not
bo afraid of my shadow. I'vo a good mind to
leave town for a time, but if 1 am suspected
that would excite suspicion. Oh, Modgel my
darling," ho cried, passionately, "if you only
know what 1 suffer, I know that you would
pity me?but you must never know the truth
?'Noverl Never!'" and, sinking into a chair
by tho window, he covered his face with bis
hands. After remaining in this position for
some minutes, occupier! with his own gloomy
thoughts, ho arose and rang the bell A faint
crackle in tho distanco announced that Mrs.
Sampson had hoard, and she soon came Into
tho room, looking moro liko a cricket than
ever. Brian had gone into his bedroom and
called out to her from there:
"1 am going down to St. Kildo, Mrs. Sampson,"
he said, "and, probably, will not bo
back ail day."
"Which 1 'opes it 'ull do you good," answerer!
thocrickot, "for you've eaten nethin',
on' tho sea breezes is miraculous for rnakin'
you take to your victuals. My mother's
brother, bein' a sailor, an' wouderful for 'Is
\
stomach, which, when 'e 'ad done a meal, the
table looked as if a low cuss 'ad gone over it"
"A what7" asked Fitzgerald, buttoning bis
gloves.
"A low cussC replied the landlady^ in surprise
at his ignorance, "as I've readjin K)ly
Writ, as 'ow John the Baptist was partial to
"em, not that I think they'd be very flliin',
tho', to be sure, 'e 'ad a sweet tooth, and ate
oney with 'em.".
"Oh I you mean locusts," said Brian, now
enlightened.
"An" what else!" asked Mrs. Sampson, indignantly;
"which, tho* not bein' ascbolard,
1 speaks English I 'opes, my mother's second
cousin avin' 'ad first prize at a spellin' bee,
tho' 'o died early through brain fever, 'avin'
crowded 'is 'cod over much with the dictionary."
"Dear me 1" answered Brian mechanically.
"How unfortunate." He was not listening
to Mrs. Sampson's remarks, but was thinking
of an arrangement which Madge had
made, and which he had forgotten till now.
"Mrs. Bampson," he said, turning round
at the door, "I am going to bring Mr.
Frettlby and his daughter to have a cup of
nfternoon tea here, so you might have some
ready."
"You 'ave only to ask and to 'ave," answered
Mrs. Sampson, hospitably, with a
crackle of all her joints. "I'll mako the tea,
sir. an' also some of my own pertickler cakes,
bein' a special kind I 'ave, which my mother
showed me 'ow to make, 'avin' been taught
by a lady as sho nussed thro' the scarlet fever,
tho! bein' of a. weak constitootlon, she died
soon arter, bein' in the 'abit" of contractin'
any disease she might chance on."
As soon as Fitzgerald had gone Mrs. 8.
went over to tho window and watched him
as ho walked slowly down tho street?a tall,
handsome man, of whom any woman would
be proud.
"What an awful thing it aro to think 'ell
bo a corpse some day," she chirped cheerily
to herself, "tho' of course bein' a great swell
yi 'is own place, 'o'll 'ave a nice niry vault,
Which ud be far mora comfortable than a
close, stuffy grave, even tho' it 'as a tombstone
an' vi'lets over it Ah, now! Who are
you, impertinence ?" she broke off, as a stout
man in a light suit of clothes crossed the
road and rang the bell, "a pull in' at the bell
as if it were a pump 'andle."
As tho gentleman at 'the door, who was
nono other than Mr. Gorby, did not hear her,
he, of course, did not reply, so she hurried
down tho stairs, crackling with anger at tho
rough usago her bell had received.
Mr. Gorby had seen Brian go out, and
deeming it a good opportunity to prosecute
inquiries, had lost no time in making a start.
"You nearly tored the bell down," said the
fiery cricket, as sho presented her thin body
and wrinkled face to the view of the detective.
"I'ou nearly tored the bell dow>u"
"I'm very sorry," answered Gorby, meekly.
"I'll knock next time."
"Oh, no you won't," said tho landlady,
tossing her head, "me not 'avin' a knocker,
an' your 'and n-scratchin' tho paint off the
door, which it ain't been done over six months
by my sister-in-law's cousin, which 'e is a
painter, with a shop in Fitzroyi an' a wonderful
hoye to color."
"Does Mr. Fitzgerald live hero?" asked Mr.
Gorby quietly.
"He do," replied Mrs. Sampson, "but 'e's
gone out, an' won't be back till the arternoon,
which any messidgo 'ull bo delivered to
'im punctual on 'is arrival."
"I'm glad he's not in," said Mr. Gorby.
"Would you allow mo to have a few moments'
conversation?"
"What is it?" asked tho cricket, her curiosity
being roused.
"I'll tcH you when we get inside," answered
Mr. Gorby.
/lHinlrrtf 11of i?> * V>ny* eVtnt?r?
J. UU W?i 1VAUV IW/ACU UV Ullil Tf ivU tiki OUUi |/
little eyes, and seeing nothing disreputable in
him, led the way upstairs, crackling loudly
the whole time. This so astonished Mr.
Gorby that ho cast ubout in his own mind for
an explanation of the phenomena.
"Wants oiling about the joints," was his
conclusion, "but I never heard anything like
it, and she looks as if she'd snap in two, she's
that brittle."
Mrs. Sampson took Gorby into Brian's sitting,
and, having closed the door, sat down
and prepared to hear what ho had to say for
himself.
"I 'ope it ain't bills,*1 she said. "Mr. Fitzgerald
'avin' money in the bank, and everythin'
respectable like a gentleman as 'o is,
tho', to be sure, your bill might come down
on him unbeknown, 'e not 'avin' kept it in
mind, which it ain't everybody as 'ave sich a
good memory as my aunt on my mother's
side, she 'avin' bin famous for 'er dates like a
'istory, not to speak of 'er multiplication
tables and tho numbers of people's 'ouses."
"I am an insurance agent," ho said rapidly,
so as to prevent any interruption by the
cricket; "and Mr. Fitzgerald wants to insure
his life in our company. Before doing so I
want to find out if ho is a good life to insure;
docs ho live temperately? keep early hours?
and, in fact, ail about him."
"I shall bo 'uppy to answer any inquiries
which may be of use to you, sir," replied
Mrs. Sampson; "knowin' as I do 'ow good a
insurance is to a family should tho 'ead of it
bo taken off unexpected, leavin' a widder,
which, as I know, Mr. Fitzgerald is a goin'
to be married soon, an' I 'opes 'o'll bo 'appy,
tho' thro' it I loses a lodger as 'as allays paid
regler, an' be'aved like a gentleman."
"Does ho keep good hours?" said Mr.
Gorby.
"Allays in aforo tho clock strikes twelve,"
answered the landlady; "tho' to bo sure, I
uses it as a flgger of speech, none of tho
clocks in the 'ouse strildn' but one, which is
bein' mended, 'avin' broke through ovcrwlndin'."
"Is ho always in before 12?" asked Mr.
Gorby, keenly disappointed at this answer.
Mrs. Sampson eyed him waggishly, and a
smilo crept over her wrinkled little face.
"Young men, not bein' old men," she replied,
cautiously, "and sinners not bein'
saints, it's not nattrnl as latch keys should be
made for ornament instead of use, and Mr.
Fitzgerald bein' one of tho 'andsomest men
in Melbourne, it aint to be expected as 'e
should let's latch key git rusty, tho', 'avin' a
good moral cuoracter, o uses it wuu muuertttion."
"But I suppose you are generally asleep
when ho comes in late?" said the detective;
"so you can't tell what hour ho comes
home?"
"Notns a rule," assented Mrs. Sampson;
"bein' a 'envy sleeper, and much disposed for
bed, but I 'avo 'card 'im come in urter 10,
the lost time bein' Thursday week."
"Ah!" Mr. Gorby drew a long breath, for
Thursday week was the night when the murder
was committed.
"Bein' troubled with my 'ead," said Mrs.
Samjison, "thro* 'avin' been out in thq sun
all day a-wnshin', I did not feel so partial to
my bed that night as in gcnoral, so went
down to the kitchen with the intent of getting
a linseed poultice to put at the back of
my 'ead, it being calculated to remove pain,
ns was told to me, when a miss, by a dbctor
in the horspital, 'o now being in business for
hisself, at Geo I < rig, with a largo family,
'avin' married early. Just as I was lenvin'
the kitchen I 'card Mr. Fitzgerald a-comiii'
in, and, turnin' round, looked at the clock,
that 'avin' been my custom when my Into
'usbund came in the early tuornin1,1 bein' a
prepurin' 'is meal."
"And tho time was?" asked Mr. Gorby,
breathlessly.
"Five minutes to 2 o'clock," replied Mrs.
Sampson.
Mr. Gorby thought for a moment.
Cab was hailed at 1 o'clock?started for St.
Kilda about ten minutes past?reached grammar
school, say at twcnty-ilvo minutes pastFitzgerald
talks five minutes to cabman,
making it half-past?say, ho waited ten minutes
for other cab to turn up, makes it twenty
minutes to 2?it would tako another twenty
minutes to get to East Melbourne?and fivo
minutes to walk up hero?that makes it five
minutes past 2 instead of before?confound itl
"Was your clock in tho kitchen right?" ho
asked, aloud.
"Well, I think so," answered Mrs. SampI
son. "It does get a littlo slow sometimes,
I not 'avin' bin cleaned for somo time, which
my nevy bein' a watchmaker I allays 'ands
it over to 'iin."
"Of course it was slow on that night," said
Gorby, triumphantly. "lie must have como
in at fivo minutes past 2? which makes it
right."
"Makes what right?" asked the landlady,
sharply. "And 'ow do you know my clock
was ten minutes wrong?"
"Oh, it was, was it?" asked Gorby, eagerly.
'Tm not denyin' that it wasn't," replied
Mrs. Sampson; "clocks ain't allays to be relied
on more than men an'women; but it
won't be anythin' agin 'is insurance, will it,
as in general 'e's in afore 12?"
"Oh, all that will be quite safe," answered
the detective, delighted at having obtained
the required information. "Is this Mr. Fitzgerald's
room?"
"Yes, it is," replied the landlady; "but'e
furnished it 'imself, bein' of a luxurus turn
of mind, not but what 'is taste is good, tHb'
far be it from mo to deny I 'elped 'im to select;
but 'avin' another room of the same to
let, any friends as you might 'ave in search
of a 'ome hid be well looked arter, my references
bein' very 'igh an' my cookin' tasty,
an' if'
Here a ring at the iront door bell called
Mrs. Sampson away, so with a hurried word
to Gorby she crackled down stairs. Left to
himself, Mr. Gorby arose and looked around
the room. It was excellently furnished, and
the pictures on the wall were all in good
taste. There was a writing table at one end
of the room under the window, which was
covered with papers.
"It's ho good looking for the papers he took
out of Whyte's pocket, I suppose," said the
detective to himself, as he turned over some
letters^'as I don't know what they are, and
couldnt tell them if I saw them; but I'd like
to find that missing glove and thl bottle that
held the chloroform?unless he's done away
with them. There doesn't seem any sign of
them here, so I'll havo a look in his bedroom."
There was no time to loee, as Mrs". Sampson
might return at any moment, so Mr. Gorby
walked quickly into the bedroom, which
opened off the sitting room. The first thing
that caught tbo detective's eye was a large
photograph of Modgo Frettlbyin a plush
frame, which stood on the dressing table. It
was the same kind he hod already seen in
Whyte's album, and he took It up with a
laugh. I
"You're a pretty girl," be said, apostrophizing
the picture, "but you give your
photograph to two young men, both in love
with you, and both hot tempered. The result
is that one is dead, and the other won't
survive him long. That's what you've done."
He put it down again, and looking round .
the room, caught sight of a light covert coat
hanging behind the door, and also a soft hat
"Ah," said the detective, going up to the
door, "hero is the very coat you wore when
you killed that poor fellow. I wonder what
you havo in the pockets," and he plunged his
O O A A A
Tjik Moon* Ixfm'kxcix<; Slkki'.
"The most singular case of insomnia
of which I ever heard," said a physician,
"is that of a friend of mine in a
neighboring town, a lady of middle
age. With the exception of her peculiar
insomnia she is in robust
health. She is an uncommonly
sound sleeper in the 'dark of the
moon,' but as the new moon approaches
its first quarter, she is attacked
by wakefulness. She can
sleep only at long intervals during
the night, and only a few minutes
at a time. The sleeplessness
increases with the fulling of the
moon, and by the time that stage in
the moon's course is reached,she is
unable to attain even the slightest
slumber. She remains in a state of
utter wakefulness until the moon begins
to wane, when she gradually
grows sleepy again, and is able to
sleep longer and sounder as the moon
disappears. When the period of dark
moon arrives she resumes her unbroken
slumber. This condition has
prevailed for more than ten years.''?
UiUlU 1IJ l/U LUC1U 1U I/UIIA. 1UC1U VYua OU VIVA
theatre programme and a pair of brown
gloves in one, but in the second pocket Mr.
Gorby made a discovery?none other than
that of themissing glova There It was?a
soiled white glove for the right hand, with
black bands down the back; and the detective
smiled in a gratified manner as he pnt it carefully
in his pocket
"My morning has not been wasted," he
said to himself. "I've found out that he
came in at a time which corresponds to all
his movements after 1 o'clock on Thursday
night, and this is the missing glove, which
clearly belonged to Whyte. If I could only
get hold of the chloroform bottle I'd be satisfied."
But the chloroform bottle was not to be
found, though ho searched most carefully for
it. At last, hearing Mrs. Sampson coming
up stairs again, he desisted from his search
and came back to the sitting room
"Threw it away, I expect," he said, as he
sat down in his old place; "but it doesn't
matter. I think I can form a chain of evidence,
from what I have discovered, which
will be sufficient to convict him. Besides,
I expect when he is arrested he will confess
everything; ho seems to have such'alotof
remorse for what he has done."
The door opened and Mrs. Sampson
crackled into the room
"Did I understand you to say, Mrs. Sampson,"
he went on, "that Mr. Fitzgerald would
be at homo this afternoon?"
"Oh, yes, sir, 'e will," answered Mrs.
Sampson, "a drinkin' tea with his young
lady, who is Miss Frettlby, and 'as got no
end of money?not but what I mightn't 'ave
'ad the same tad I been born in a higher
spear."
"You need not tell Mr. Fitzgerald I have
been hero," said Gorby, closing the gate; "I'll
probably call and see him myself this afternoon."
"What a stout person 'e are," said Mrs.
Sampson to herself, as the detective walked
away, "just like my late father, who was
always fleshy, being a great eater and fond
of 'is glass, but I took arter my mother's
family, they bein' thin like, and proud of
keeping 'emselves so, as the vinegar they
aranK couia icsiuy, not mat x muuigo m it
myself."
Shosimt tbo door and went up stairs to
take away the breakfast things, while Gorby
was being driven along at a good pace to the
police office, in order to get a warrant for
Brian's arrest on a charge of willful murder.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
If You Wan't to be Loved.?
Don't find fault.
Don't contradict people, even if
you're sure you are right.
Don't be inquisitive about the affairs
of even your most intimate
friend.
Don't underrate anything because
you don't possess it.
Don't believe that everybody in
the world is happier than you.
Don't conclude that you have never
had any opportunities in life.
Don't repeat all the evil you hear.
Don't repeat gossip, even if it does
interest a crowd.
Don't go untidy on the plea that
everybody knows you.
Don't be rude to your inferiors in
social position.
Don't over or under dress.
Don't express a positive opinion
unless you perfectly understand what
you are talking about.
Don't get in the habit of vulgarizing
life by making light of the sentiment
of it.
Don't jeer at anybody's religious
belief.
Don't try to be anything else but a
gentlewoman?and that means a
woman who has consideration for
the whole world and whose life is
governed by the golden rule, "Do
unto others as you would be done
by.?[Ladies' Home Journal.
An Alligatoh's Nest.?Alligators'
nests resemble haycocks more
than anything else to which they can
be compared. They average about
four feet in height and about five
feet in diameter, and are constructed
of grass and herbage. First the
mother 'gator deposits one layer of
eggs on a mortar like floor, and having
covered this with a stratum of
mud and herbage about eight inches
thick, lays another set of eggs upon
that, and so on to the top, there being
commonly from 100 to i'oo eggs
in a nest. With their tails the parents
then beat down the tall grass
and weeds to prevent the approach of
unseen enemies. The female watches
her eggs until they are hatched by
the heat of the sun, and then takes
her brood under her own care, defending
them and providing for their
subsistence. Dr. Lutzeinberg, of
New Orleans, once packed one of
these nests for shipment to St. Petersburg,
but the young hatched out hefore
they were started on the long
voyage, and were kept about the doctor's
premises, running all over the
premises, up and down stairs, whinimr
like vounir ounnies.
gttisccltanwus Reading.
WONDERFUL ALUMINUM.
Aluminum, aside from its liehtness
and strength, is malleable, auctile,
does not rust, is as beautiful as silver,
and is much more abundant in its
native state than any metal in use.
Coyolite, or Iceland spar, is the mineral
from which it has been mostly
obtained, but it is a constituent of clay
and of other earths, and prevails almost
everywhere. The statement
has been made that it composes more
than a twentieth part of tne crust of
the globe. The difficulty is to secure
it in a pure state at a moderate cost.
Much has yet to he learned also as to
the methods of using it, and there
remains some doubts as to its adaptation
to certain important uses. But
within the last half century its cost
has been reduced from over $30 a
pound to less than $3, and it is now
being put to practical use as alloy.
.rvecenuy a series 01 lesis to ueterauiie
the virtue of aluminum bronze was
made by government natal officers
at the Watertown (Mass.) arsenal.
A tensile strength of 90,000 pounds
to the square inch was shown, which
is largely in excess of anything before
developed. The transverse strength
of the composite metal was found to
be 6,600 pounds to the square inch?a
result that has only been equaled by
the finest quality of crucible steel.
There are busy brains and hands
constantly at work to reduce the expense
of manufacturing the pure metal
; and as the incentive to success is
very powerful, their labors are not
likely to be discontinued. Its capabilities,
sooner or later, are veiw sure
to be exhaustively tested. If they
prove as satisfactory as there is reason
to hope they will, and the laboratory
processes give way to mill production
at low cost, a wonderful evolution
in works of construction will
have been entered upon. How far
in the future the desired end may be
there is no telling.
Remove two-thirds of its own
weight, without diminution of
strength, from the vast structure
that connects New York and Brooklyn,
and its effectiveness for service.
Erovided room was supplied, would
ecorrespondingly increased. Bridges
of aluminum?supposing always
its qualities are truly represented?
could be thrown across streams and
ravines to span which is now impossible.
The capacity of steamships
would be similarly enlarged. Not
only would cargoes take the place of
the lessened weight of the body of
the vessels, but also that of their
machinery. Enough coal could be
stored to indefinitely lenghthen voyages
without fresh supplies. The
cost of transportation would be lowered
in many ways, foreseen, and
unforeseen, and speed and safety increased
as well. The calculations of
a competent engineer as to the advantages
to be gained would produce
a showing difficult of belief at first.
The Eiffel tower, as a constructive
feat, would sink into insignificance.
The field for architectural advance
would be all but unlimited. Air navigation
would leap forward with a
bound?if feasible" at all?when its
great desideratum, a material comining
strength and lightness in
a degree never known before, or
even approximated, had been se-"
cured. Street cars, wagons, carriages,
etc., would be improved, and
save immensely in draught power
and wear and tear. Machines and
instruments would partake in the
benefits of the change, and new ones
invented that are now unthou^ht of.
These are but suggestions which experts
in each particular branch of mechanics
can seize the meaning of and
amplify. Should the reasonable hopes
of the aluminum-workers be realized,
mankind would seem to have
been emancipated from the burden
of heavy material which it had been
wrestling with for ages, and posterity
would talk of the unspeakable
waste of human energy that had been
involved in the use of iron.
There is an jeesthetic side to the
prospect as well a material one.
Aluminum not only does not rust,
either in air or water, but is easily
polished. Transform in imagination
the elevated roadways of New York,
the railings and balconies before the
houses, or even the houses themselves,
the lamp posts, the roofs,
spires and domes, tne Brooklyn and
other bridges, to be burnished silver,
and a glimpse may be had of the
ziAminrv nflVmf nf omminnm in nnr
VUlIilli^ VUUV/U V/A UIUIIIIIIUXI ? * VM*
cities indicated by the qualities now
claimed for it. The like has not been
pictured since St. John spoke of the
golden streets and the pearly gates of
the New Jerusalem.?[Harper's
Weekly.
THE TRUE POSITION IN SLEEP.
Concerning the natural position of
the body in sleep, I)r. Charles O.
Files has this to say: Complete relaxation
of the entire muscular system
is the first great essential of
sound, healthful sleep. The limbs
should be slightly flexed or bent, and
the body should be so disposed that
every muscle will be in an easy, comfortable
position. The body itself
should rest on the right side, with
a slight inclination forward rather
than backward.
It is not well to sleep either on the
back or directly on the chest. In
neither position can the limbs be
properly flexed. Sleeping on the
chest and face, with mouth and nostrils
obstructed in the least by the
pillows, is very injurious. During
sleep the free ingress of air to the
lungs should be an object of the
greatest solicitude.
The objections to sleeping on the
left side may be clearly apprehended
hv enllinir to mind the relative no
sition of the stomach and liver. The
greater portion of the liver is to the
right of the median line of the body.
The greater pouch of the stomach is
on the median line, while the pyloric
end is on the left side of the body.
The weight of the liver is alxmt four
and one-half pounds, or about 1-:J2 oi
the weight of the body. If the stomach
contains much food when one is
lying on the left side, the weight of
the liver resting on the stomach, and
compressing more or less 011 the solar
plexus, is apt to cause uneasy slumber.
This weight at least will interfere
considerably with the process of
digestion.
Very great care should lie exercised
in placing the body in such position
that the movements of the chest
may be perfectly free. The shoulders
should be thrown back, and the left
arm should be placed on the left
hip or partly behind the body. It
should never be allowed to rest 011
the chest. I have noticed that there
is a tendency among those of feeble
constitution, and especially those
having affections of the lungs, to
sleep with the lungs compressed by
the arms, and the mouth and nostrils
covered with the bedclothes.
THE TEMPER OF ARAB CHIEFS.
There dwelt upon the river Euphrates,
near the great city of Bassory,
two Arab tribes deadly hostile to
each other. The enmity was so
proverbial and well known, tb.at
when one man spoke of the enmity
of another toward a foe, he would
say, "he hates him as an Anizze hates
a Monti fee. It fell out that the pacha
of Bagdad being apprehensive of the
invasion of the Kurds, from Kurdistan,
send out an order to the chief of
the Anizeesto send him forthwith
twenty thousand men. The order
was obeyed. The pacha, not placing
the same reliance upon the promptness
of the Montifee chief, resolved
to lay a plan to take him by stratagem,
and then demand of him the
aid of his tribe, lie succeeded in
obtaining the attendance of the chief,
and he was brought into the presence
of the Turk. '
"I have taken you prisoner," said
the pacha, "fearing that I might not
otherwise have obtained the assistance
of your tribes against the Kurds.
If you now command that ten-thousand
of your men shall come to my
assistance, your chains shall be struck
off, you may return safe and uninjured
to your tribe; but if you do not
comply, your iie$d shall roll at my
feet.1'
The chief looked the pacha sternly
in the face, and replied:
"Your ignorance of the Arab character
has led you into this error. Had
you sent to me for ten thousand of
my tribe when I was free, I know
not what answer I should have returned
; but, as it is, my reply cannot
but be negative. If you ordpr my
head to roll at your feet, be it so;
there are many more in my tribe
equal to mine. Shed one drop of my
blood, and every one will become its
avenger. The Arab may be treated
with when free, but when a prisoner?never!"
i.
The haughty pacha looked upon
him for a moment with surprise;
then turning to his soldiers, he orderthem
fn oAvor hia Viand fmm Viia
body. The chief stood calm and collected
while the drawn saber gleamed
aloft in the air. At this moment,
the noise of a horse galloping in the
paved court yard or the palace attracted
the attention of tne pacha.
At every bound he struck the fire
from the stones, and seemed to be
striving to outstrip the wind. In a ?*1
moment the rider vaulted from his
horse, and almost in the same breath
stood in the presence of the pacha.
It was the chief of the Anizees.
"I am come," said he, "to strike
off the chains from my enemy. Had
he been taken in an open conflict I
should not interpose, tmt as he has
been taken by treachery, though my
enemy, yet will I be the first to strike
off his chains. There are twenty
thousand lances under my command
glancing yonde'r in your defense; but
if you release not immediately my
enemy, every one of them shall be
directed against you as a foe."
The Turk was forced to yield, and
the two chiefs retired together. The
chief of the Anizees conducted his
brother chief, though his deadliest enemy,
to his own tribe, and then said:
"Weare now again enemies; we
have only acted as Arabs should act
to each other; but you are now safe,
and with your own tribe, and our
ancient hostilities are renewed."
With this they parted, and the
chief of the Anizees returned to the
defense of the pacha.
A Question of Bnuffebs.?A
"moderate" minister called upon a
Scotch Free church elder, ana met
with a cold reception. At length he
drew his snuff-box from his pocket,
and invited the elder to make trial
of its contents. A decided thaw set
in immediately.
"Oyetak' snuff, do ye?" said theFree
Kirk man, yielding to a gentle
smile.
"O yes!" replied the visitor, somewhat
afraid lest the admission might
lead him into trouble. "I take snuff,
but what of that?"
"Weel," said the elder, with a look
of satisfaction to which probably the
excellent snuff contributed its full
share, "that's the first sign o' grace
I've seen aboot ye."
"Sign of grace ?" rejoined the minister,
with no little surprise, but glad
that a promising vein of conversation
had at length been opened. "How do
you make out that the habit of taking
snuff is a sign of grace?"
"Nothing easier," said the elder,
with a knowing twinkle in his eye.
"lion C you rememDer mai in uie
temple of old the snuffers were of
gold, which denotes the best of all ?
qualities?"
A Baffled Miser.?A miser,
having lost a hundred pounds, promised
ten pounds reward to any one
who would bring it to him. An
honest poor man, who found it,
brought it to the old gentleman,
demanding the ten pounds. But the
miser, to baffle him, alleged that
that there were a hundred and ten
pounds in the bag when lost. The
poor man was advised to sue for the
money j and when the case came on
to be tried, it appearing that the seal
had not been broken nor the bag
ripped, the judge said to the defendant^
counsel:
"The bag you lost had one hundred
and ten pounds in it, you say ?"
"Yes, my lord," h'e replied.
"Then, said the judge, "according
to the evidence given in the court,
this bag of money cannot be your
property, for inside there was but a
hundred pounds. Therefore the
plaintiff must keep it until the true
owner appears and proves his claim."
Tit w Wv.nv iv a T.nvR.DvitFRT.
Within the last month a clergyman
in the southern, part of New Jersey
has been deposed by his parishioners,
and last week he delivered his farewell
discourse to the people of his
church, says The New York Tribune.
It is a remarkable production, both
in its brevity and quaint pointedness.
Here is all there is of it:
"Dearly Beloved: Our parting does
not seem hard to me for three reasons
: You do not love me, you do
not love each other, and the Lord
does not love you. If you loved me
you would have paid me for my
services during the past two years;
you do not love each other, other
wise I should have more marriages to
celebrate; and, in conclusion, the
Lord does not love you, for otherwise
He would call more of you to
Him, and I should have more funeral
services to conduct."
The ministers is reported as still
waiting for his back salary.
Steel Pens.?The millions of
steel pens used in the world are all
made by very few firms. Three are
in this country, three in great Britain,
and oneeach in France, Germany
and Italy; and all these manufacturers
purchase the raw material, which
is sheet steel finely rolled, from a
single establishment in Sheffield,
Eng. To make this crude stuff into
a finished pen, it has to be passed
through fourteen different processes,
after which each pen is examined
and tested by an expert. Little does
the school-boy who handles a pen
realize the work it takes to make one
of these indispensable articles. Gillott's
steel pens, which are widely
used, are made in Birmingham, Eng.;
but in this industry, and especially
in the making of golds pens, Ameri
?
cans ureuuuiiiiKi" C4umf it nuw CAWI,
the artisans abroad.
SQp The question is asked, "Where
is Heaven ?"
We answer, go out on the first pleasant
evening and look up at the neavenly
constellations?millions of
worlds as we have reason to believe,
far greater than our own?and you
will feel that in God's universe there
is plenty of room for every soul He
has created.
Has not the creator of human souls
power to continue their duration in
any part of His universe?
Is not the power that controls the
universe a wise one ?
Is it not on the whole a good one ?
Have we not reason to believe that
sooner or later in the ages exact justice
will be done?
Some men in Belfast, Me.,
thought to puzzle a local jockey by
bringing out two sorry looking
equities, one considerably larger than
the other, and asking him which
was the lietter one. But he was not
caught napping. He looked each
carefully over, examining the feet of *
each, and then rendered judgment
as follows : "One's worth just as
much as t'other." "How's that?"
asked the crowd. "Well, the big "
one has got more hide and bones than /
the smaller one, but the latter has got ^
the best shoes on which makes it JM
about an even thing."