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They were in Fitzroy by this time, and both cabs 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 his cab-man. He then walked down the street and disappeared into the Treasury Gardens.
Fitzgerald turned as white as a sheet, for he felt instinctively that they had come for him. However, pulling himself together, he demanded, in a haughty tone, the reason of the intrusion. Mr. Gorby walked straight over to where Brian was standing, and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Brian Fitzgerald," he said, in a clear voice, "I arrest you in the Queen's name."
Whyte and he were rivals for the heiress." "What d'y think of it?" said Mrs. Hableton curiously. "I think," said Mr. Gorby slowly, with his eyes fixed on her, "I think that there is a woman at the bottom of this crime." When Mr. Gorby left Possum Villa no doubt remained in his mind as to who had committed the murder.
She shut the door, and went upstairs to take away the breakfast things, while Gorby was being driven along at a good pace to the police office, to obtain a warrant for Brian's arrest, on a charge of wilful murder.
"Well, you may be right about the matter," said Kilsip, rather angrily; "and if Gorby makes mistakes I don't pretend to be infallible. But, at all events, when I saw Moreland in the bar he wore a silver ring on the forefinger of his right hand." "Silver isn't a diamond." "No; but it shows that was the finger he was accustomed to wear his ring on. When I saw that, I determined to search his room.
'She is mine; you can't do anything; an' the other turns with 'is 'and on the door an' says, 'I can kill you, an' if you marry 'er I'll do it, even in the open street." "Ah!" said Mr. Gorby, drawing a long breath, "and then?" "Then he bangs the door to, which it's never shut easy since, an' I ain't got no money to get it put right, an' Mr. Whyte walks back to his room, laughing."
"I don't take much of that stuff," she said, seeing the detective's eyes fixed curiously on her, "but you 'ave given me such a turn that I must take something to steady my nerves; what do you want me to do?" "Tell me all you know," said Mr. Gorby, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. "Where was Mr. Whyte killed?" she asked. "He was murdered in a hansom cab on the St. Kilda Road."
Gorby gave the lie direct to those who hold that the face is ever the index to the mind. Kilsip, on the other hand, with his hawk-like countenance, his brilliant black eyes, hooked nose, and small thin-lipped mouth, endorsed the theory. His complexion was quite colourless, and his hair was jet black. Altogether, he could not be called fair to look upon.
Moreland who comed 'ere with 'm, an' was allays with 'im brother-like." "What is this Mr. Moreland like?" "Good-lookin' enough," said Mrs. Hableton sourly, "but 'is 'abits weren't as good as 'is face 'andsom is as 'andsom does, is what I ses." "I wonder if he knows anything about this affair," thought Gorby to himself "Where is Mr. Moreland to be found?" he asked.
When, therefore, this hansom cab murder case was put into Gorby's hands, the soul of Kilsip was smitten with envy, and when Fitzgerald was arrested, and all the evidence collected by Gorby seemed to point so conclusively to his guilt, Kilsip writhed in secret over the triumph of his enemy.
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