he did it too.
Now he must have taken the trouble to make this pocket himself, so that
no one else would know anything about it, and it was made to carry
something valuable--so valuable that he had to carry it with him even
when he wore evening clothes. Ah! here's a tear on the side nearest the
outside of the waistcoat; something has been pulled out roughly. I
begin to see now. The dead man possessed something which the other man
wanted, and which he knew the dead one carried about with him. He sees
him drunk, gets into the cab with him, and tries to get what he wants.
The dead man resists, upon which the other kills him by means of the
chloroform which he had with him, and being afraid that the Gab will
stop, and he will be found out, snatches what he wants out of the
pocket so quickly that he tears the waistcoat and then makes off.
That's clear enough, but the question is, What was it he wanted? A case
with jewels? No! It could not have been anything so bulky, or the dead
man would never have carried it about inside his waistcoat. It was
something Hat, which could easily lie in the pocket--a paper--some
valuable paper which the assassin wanted, and for which he killed the
other."

"This is all very well," said Mr. Gorby, throwing down the waistcoat,
and rising. "I have found number two before number one. The first
question is: Who is the murdered man. He's a stranger in Melbourne,
that's pretty clear, or else some one would have been sure to recognise
him before now by the description given in the reward. Now, I wonder if
he has any relations here? No, he can't, or else they would have made
enquiries, before this. Well, there's one thing certain, he must have
had a landlady or landlord, unless he slept in the open air. He can't
have lived in an hotel, as the landlord of any hotel in Melbourne would
have recognised him from the description, especially when the whole
place is ringing with the murder. Private lodgings more like, and a
landlady who doesn't read the papers and doesn't gossip, or she'd have
known all about it by this time. Now, if he did live, as I think, in
private lodgings, and suddenly disappeared, his landlady wouldn't keep
quiet. It's a whole week since the murder, and as the lodger has not
been seen or heard of, the landlady will naturally make enquiries. If,
however, as I surmise, the lodger is a stranger, she will not know
where to enquire; therefore, under these circumstances, the most
natural th