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Updated: June 1, 2025
"But he's dead," said Brian. "I'm speaking of Roger Moreland," retorted Kilsip. "For he and no other murdered Oliver Whyte." "That's a much more likely story," Chinston said. "I tell you no," said Calton, vehemently. "God knows I would like to preserve Mark Frettlby's good name, and it is with this object I have brought you all together.
"Rather," said Kilsip in a satisfied tone; "I've had my eye on him for the last two months, and someone is watching him for me now trust me, he can't move two steps without my knowing it." "Ah, indeed!" said Calton, quickly. "Then do you know if he has been to the bank and cashed that cheque for five thousand, which Frettlby gave him?"
The woman who died evidently told Fitzgerald that he did so; I gathered as much from an accidental admission he made." Kilsip looked puzzled. "I must confess that it is a riddle," he said at length; "but if Mr. Fitzgerald would only speak, it would clear everything up." "Speak about what the man who murdered Whyte?"
Brian Fitzgerald's life hangs on a thread, and that thread is Sal Rawlins." "Yes!" assented Kilsip, rubbing his hands together. "Even if Mr. Fitzgerald acknowledges that he was at Mother Guttersnipe's on the night in question, she will have to prove that he was there, as no one else saw him." "Are you sure of that?" "As sure as anyone can be in such a case.
I'll 'ave the lawr of ye both, s'elp me, I will." Kilsip paid no attention to this outbreak of the old fury, but turned to the girl. "This is the gentleman who wants to speak to you," he said, gently, making the girl sit on the chair again, for indeed she looked too ill to stand. "Just tell him what you told me."
"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.
Her own room is a few steps away what, then, was easier for her than to go to her own room, obtain the poison, and put it into the glass? The jury will remember in the evidence of Mr Kilsip, the bottle was three-quarters empty, which argued some of it had been used. All the evidence against Miss Marchurst was purely circumstantial, for if she committed the crime, no human eye beheld her doing so.
"'E, a-comin' round with di'monds and gold, and a-ruinin' my pore girl; an' how 'e's 'eld 'is bloomin' 'ead up all these years as if he were a saint, cuss 'im cuss 'im." "Whom does she mean?" whispered Calton to Kilsip. "Mean!" screamed Mother Guttersnipe, whose sharp ears had caught the muttered question. "Why, Mark Frettlby!" "Good God!"
"Who was she?" asked Calton, who was putting on his overcoat. "Some relation of Mother Guttersnipe's, I fancy," answered Kilsip, as they left the office.
"I suppose you're pretty sure he's the man you want?" pursued Kilsip, softly, with a brilliant flash of his black eyes. "Pretty sure, indeed!" retorted Mr. Gorby, scornfully, "there ain't no pretty sure about it. I'd take my Bible oath he's the man. He and Whyte hated one another.
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