ome."

Calton handed the letter to Kilsip, who placed it on the table and
examined it carefully.

"This was written on Thursday," said the detective.

"Of course--you can see that from the date; and Whyte was murdered on
Friday, the 27th."

"It was written at something Villa, Toorak," pursued Kilsip, still
examining the paper. "Oh! I understand; he went down there."

"Hardly," retorted Calton, in a sarcastic tone. "He couldn't very well
go down there, have an interview, and be back in East Melbourne in one
hour--the cabman Royston can prove that he was at Russell Street at one
o'clock, and his landlady that he entered his lodging in East Melbourne
at two--no, he wasn't at Toorak."

"When was this letter delivered?"

"Shortly before twelve o'clock, at the Melbourne Club, by a girl, who,
from what the waiter saw of her, appears to be a disreputable
individual--you will see it says bearer will wait him at Bourke Street,
and as another street is mentioned, and as Fitzgerald, after leaving
Whyte, went down Russell Street to keep his appointment, the most
logical conclusion is that the bearer of the letter waited for him at
the corner of Bourke and Russell Streets. Now," went on the lawyer, "I
want to find out who the girl that brought the letter is!"

"But how?"

"God bless my soul, Kilsip! How stupid you are," cried Calton, his
irritation getting the better of him. "Can't you understand--that paper
came from one of the back slums--therefore it must have been stolen."

A sudden light flashed into Kilsip's eyes.

"Talbot Villa, Toorak," he cried quickly, snatching up the letter
again, and examining it with great attention, "where that burglary took
place."

"Exactly," said Calton, smiling complacently. "Now do you understand
what I want--you must take me to the crib in the back slums where the
articles stolen from the house in Toorak were hidden. This
paper"--pointing to the letter--"is part of the swag left behind, and
must have been used by someone there. Brian Fitzgerald obeyed the
directions given in the letter, and he was there, at the time of the
murder."

"I understand," said Kilsip, with a gratified purr. "There were four
men engaged in that burglary, and they hid the swag at Mother
Guttersnipe's crib, in a lane off Little Bourke Street--but hang it, a
swell like Mr. Fitzgerald, in evening dress, couldn't very well have
gone down there unless--"

"He had some one with him well-known in the locality,