"So the papers say," answered Brian, listlessly, without turning his head.
"I wonder who the gentleman in the light coat could have been," said Madge, as she settled herself again.
"No one seems to know," he replied, evasively.
"Ah, but they've got a clue," she said. "Do you know, Brian," she went on, "that he was dressed just like you, in a light overcoat and soft hat?"
"How remarkable," said Fitzgerald, speaking in a slightly sarcastic tone, and as calmly as he was able. He was dressed in the same manner as nine out of every ten young fellows in Melbourne."
Madge looked at him in surprise at the tone in which he spoke, so different from his usual nonchalant way of speaking, and was about to answer, when the carriage stopped at the door of the Melbourne Club. Brian, anxious to escape any more remarks about the murder, sprang quickly out and ran up the steps into the building. He found Mr. Frettlby smoking complacently and reading the Age. As Fitzgerald entered he looked up, and putting down the paper, held out his hand, which the other took.
"Ah! Fitzgerald," he said, "have you left the attractions of Collins Street for the still greater ones of clubland?"
"Not I," answered Brian. "I've come to carry you off to afternoon tea with Madge and myself."
"I don't mind," answered Mr. Frettlby, rising; "but isn't afternoon tea at half-past one, rather an anomaly?"
"What's in a name?" said Fitzgerald, absently, as they left the room. "What have you been doing all morning?"
"I've been in here for the last half-hour reading," answered the other, carelessly.
"Wool market, I suppose?"
"No, the hansom cab murder."
"Oh, d— that thing!" said Brian, hastily; then, seeing his companion looking at him in surprise, he apologized.
"But, indeed," he went on, "I'm nearly worried to death by people asking all about Whyte, as if I knew all about him, whereas I know nothing."
"Just as well you didn't," answered Mr. Frettlby, as they descended the steps together; "he was not a very desirable companion."
