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Updated: June 1, 2025
"The perlice cove an' the swell," said Lizer, suddenly. "Come to see yer turn up your toes." "I ain't dead yet, ye whelp," snarled the hag with sudden energy; "an' if I gits up I'll turn up yer toes, cuss ye." Lizer gave a shrill laugh of disdain, and Kilsip stepped forward.
"Then he did not return to the cab?" "No, he did not, he went to keep his appointment, but, for some reason or other, he won't tell where this appointment was. I went to his rooms to-day and found this half-burnt letter, asking him to come." Calton handed the letter to Kilsip, who placed it on the table and examined it carefully. "This was written on Thursday," said the detective.
"It isn't anything catching, I hope," cried the barrister, with a shudder, as they passed into the crowd of Bourke Street. "Don't know, sir, not being a doctor," answered the detective, stolidly. "Oh!" ejaculated Calton, in dismay. "It will be all right, sir," said Kilsip, reassuringly; "I've been there dozens of times, and I'm all right."
"You're a smart man, you are," retorted Kilsip; "but you ain't the Pope to be infallible." "And what grounds have you for saying he's not the right man?" demanded Gorby. Kilsip smiled, and stole softly across the room like a cat. "You don't think I'm such a fool as to tell you? But you ain't so safe nor clever as you think," and, with another irritating smile, he went out.
"She's allays a-talkin' of dyin' an' gallers, as if they were nice things to jawr about." "Who was that woman who died here three or four weeks ago?" asked Kilsip, sharply. "'Ow should I know?" retorted Mother Guttersnipe, sullenly. "I didn't kill 'er, did I? It were the brandy she drank; she was allays drinkin', cuss her." "Do you remember the night she died?"
The detective's face, however, looked rather dismal, and Calton was not reassured. "Well!" he said, impatiently, when Kilsip had closed the door and taken his seat. "Where is she?" "That's just what I want to know," answered the detective, coolly; "I went to the Salvation Army headquarters and made enquiries about her.
Fitzgerald was on the night of the murder, so he will be safe." "That depends upon Sal Rawlins," answered Calton, gravely; "but come, let us have a glass of brandy, for I feel quite ill after my experience of low life." The next day Kilsip called at Calton's office late in the afternoon, and found the lawyer eagerly expecting him.
"Never mind what she's doing or about to do," said Kilsip, sharply, "take me to her at once." The girl looked him sullenly up and down, then she led the way into the black chasm and up the stairs. They were so shaky as to make Calton fear they might give way. As they toiled slowly up the broken steps he held tightly to his companion's arm.
"I knew he was incapable of such a thing," cried Chinston, whom emotion had hitherto kept silent. Meanwhile Kilsip listened to these eulogistic remarks on the dead man, and purred to himself, in a satisfied sort of way, like a cat who has caught a mouse. "You see, sir," he said, addressing the barrister, "I was right after all." "Yes," answered Calton, frankly, "I acknowledge my defeat, but now "
"By Jove, you must have been pretty certain of his guilt," remarked Chinston, dryly. "Of course I was," retorted Kilsip, in a satisfied tone of voice. "When I told the magistrate where I found the coat, and reminded him of Moreland's acknowledgment at the trial, that he had it in his possession before the murder, I soon got him to see the necessity of having Moreland arrested."
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