home.

"If he's the lover of that pretty girl, I'll wait till he leaves the
house," argued Mr. Gorby to himself, as he took his seat on the
Esplanade. "He won't long remain away from her, and once he leaves the
house it will be no difficult matter to find out where he lives."

When Brian made his appearance early in the evening, on his way to Mark
Frettlby's mansion, he wore evening dress, a light overcoat, and a soft
hat.

"Well, I'm dashed!" ejaculated Mr. Gorby, when he saw Fitzgerald
disappear; "if he isn't a fool I don't know who is, to go about in the
very clothes he wore when he polished Whyte off, and think he won't be
recognised. Melbourne ain't Paris or London, that he can afford to be
so careless, and when I put the darbies on him he will be astonished.
Ah, well," he went on, lighting his pipe and taking a seat on the
Esplanade, "I suppose I'll have to wait here till he comes out."

Mr. Gorby's patience was pretty severely tried, for hour after hour
passed, and no one appeared. He smoked several pipes, and watched the
people strolling along in the soft silver moonlight. A bevy of girls
passed by with their arms round one another's waists. Then a young man
and woman, evidently lovers, came walking along. They sat down by Mr.
Gorby and looked hard at him, to hint that he need not stay. But the
detective took no heed of them, and kept his eyes steadily upon the
great house opposite. Finally, the lovers took themselves off with a
very bad grace.

Then Mr. Gorby saw Madge and Brian come out on to the verandah, and
heard in the stillness of the night, a sound weird and unearthly. It
was Miss Featherweight singing. He saw Madge go in, shortly followed by
Brian. The latter turned and stared at him for a moment.

"Ah," said Gorby to himself as he re-lit his pipe; "your conscience is
a-smiting you, is it? Wait a bit, my boy, till I have you in gaol."

Then the guests came out of the house, and their black figures
disappeared one by one from the moonlight as they shook hands and said
good-night.

Shortly after Brian came down the path with Frettlby at his side, and
Madge hanging on her father's arm. Frettlby opened the gate and held
out his hand.

"Good-night, Fitzgerald," he said, in a hearty voice; "come soon again."

"Good-night, Brian, 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 the house.

"Ah