"I'm sure of it. My theory is this. When Moreland got out of the cab at Powlett street"
"But he didn't," interrupted Calton, angrily.
"Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that he did," said Kilsip, quietly. "I say when he left the cab he walked up Powlett street, turned to the left down George street, and walked back to town through the Fitzroy gardens, then, knowing that the coat was noticeable, he threw it away or hid it, and walked out of the gardens"
"In evening dress more noticeable than coat."
"He wasn't in evening dress," said Kilsip, quietly.
"No more he was," observed Calton, eagerly, recalling the evidence at the trial. "Another blow to your theory. The murderer was in evening dress; the cabman said so."
"Yes; because he had seen Mr. Fitzgerald in evening dress a few minutes before, and thought that he was the same man who got into the cab with Whyte."
"Well, what of that?"
"If you remember, the second man had his coat buttoned up. Moreland wore dark trousers—at least, I suppose so—and, with the coat buttoned up, it was easy for the cabman to make the mistake, believing, as he did, that it was Mr. Fitzgerald."
"That sounds better," said Calton, thoughtfully. "And what are you going to do?"
"Look for the coat in the Fitzroy gardens."
"Pshaw! a wild goose chase."
"Possibly," said Kilsip, as he arose to go.
"And when shall I see you again?" said Calton.
"Oh, to-night," said Kilsip, pausing at the door. "I had nearly forgotten, Mother Guttersnipe wants to see you."
"Why? What's up?"
"She's dying, and wants to tell you some secret."
"Rosanna Moore, by Jove!" said Calton "She'll tell me something about her. I'll get to the bottom of this yet. All right, I'll be here at eight o'clock.'
"Very well, sir!" and the detective glided out.
"I wonder if that old devil knows anything?" said Calton to himself, as he resumed his seat. "She might have overheard some conversation between Whyte and his mistress, and is going to split. Well, I'm afraid when Fitzgerald does confess I will know all about it beforehand."
