und 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
blinds, he fell into a sort of uneasy doze, haunted by horrible dreams.
He thought he was driving in a hansom, when suddenly he found Whyte by
his side, clad in white cerements, grinning and gibbering at him with
ghastly merriment. Then the cab went over a precipice, and he 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 use trying to sleep any longer, so, with a weary sigh, he arose
and went to his tub, feeling jaded and worn out by worry and want of
sleep. His bath did him some good. The cold water brightened him up and
pulled him together. Still he could not help giving a start of surprise
when he saw his face reflected in the mirror, old and haggard-looking,
with dark circles round the eyes.

"A pleasant life I'll have of it if this sort of thing goes on," he
said, bitterly, "I wish I had never seen, or heard of Whyte."

He dressed himself carefully. He was not a man to neglect his toilet,
however worried and out of sorts he might happen to feel. Yet,
notwithstanding all his efforts the change in his appearance did not.
escape the eye of his landlady. She was a small, dried-up little woman,
with a wrinkled yellowish face. She seemed parched up and brittle.
Whenever she moved she crackled, and one went in constant dread of
seeing a wizen-looking limb break off short like the branch of some
dead tree. When she spoke it was in a voice hard and shrill, not unlike
the chirp of a cricket. When--as was frequently the