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through brain fever, ā€˜avinā€™ crowded ā€˜is ā€˜ead over much with the dictionary.ā€

ā€œDear me!ā€ answered Brian, mechanically. ā€œHow unfortunate!ā€ He was not listening to Mrs. Sampsonā€™s remarks. He suddenly remembered an arrangement which Madge had made, and which up till now had slipped his memory.

ā€œMrs. Sampson,ā€ he said, turning round at the door, ā€œI am going to bring Mr. Frettlby and his daughter to have a cup of afternoon tea here, so you might have some ready.ā€

ā€œYou ā€˜ave only to ask and to ā€˜ave,ā€ answered Mrs. Sampson, hospitably, with a gratified crackle of all her joints. ā€œIā€™ll make the tea, sir, anā€™ also some of my own perticler cakes, beinā€™ a special kind I ā€˜ave, which my mother showed me. ā€˜ow to make, ā€˜avinā€™ been taught by a lady as she nussed throā€™ the scarlet fever, thoā€™ beinā€™ of a weak constitootion, she died soon arter, beinā€™ in the ā€˜abit of contractinā€™ any disease she might chance on.ā€

Brian hurried off lest in her Poe-like appreciation of them, Mrs. Sampson should give vent to more charnel-house horrors.

At one period of her life, the little woman had been a nurse, and it was told of her that she had frightened one of her patients into convulsions during the night by narrating to her the history of all the corpses she had laid out. This ghoul-like tendency in the end proved fatal to her professional advancement.

As soon as Fitzgerald had gone, she went over to the window and watched him as he walked slowly down the streetā€”a tall, handsome man, of whom any woman would be proud.

ā€œWhat an awful thing it are to think ā€˜eā€™ll be a corpse some day,ā€ she chirped cheerily to herself, ā€œthoā€™ of course beinā€™ a great swell in ā€˜is own place, ā€˜eā€™ll ā€˜ave a nice airy vault, which ā€˜ud be far more comfortable than a close, stuffy grave, even thoā€™ it ā€˜as a tombstone anā€™ viā€™lets over it. Ah, now! Who are you, impertinence?ā€ she broke off, as a stout man in a light suit of clothes crossed the road and rang the bell, ā€œa-pullinā€™ at the bell as if it were a pump ā€˜andle.ā€

As the gentleman at the door, who was none other than Mr. Gorby, did not hear her, he of course did not reply, so she hurried down the stairs, crackling with anger at the rough usage her bell had received.

Mr. Gorby had Been Brian go out, and deeming it a good opportunity for enquiry had lost no time in making a start.

ā€œYou nearly tored the bell down,ā€ said Mrs. Sampson, as she presented her thin body and wrinkled face to the view of the detective.

ā€œIā€™m very sorry,ā€ answered Gorby, meekly. ā€œIā€™ll knock next time.ā€

ā€œOh, no you wonā€™t,ā€ said the landlady, tossing her head, ā€œme not ā€˜avinā€™ a knocker, anā€™ your ā€˜and a-scratchinā€™ the paint off the door, which it ainā€™t been done over six months by my sister-in-lawā€™s cousin, which ā€˜e is a painter, with a shop in Fitzroy, anā€™ a wonderful heye to colour.ā€

ā€œDoes Mr. Fitzgerald live here?ā€ asked Mr. Gorby, quietly.

ā€œHe do,ā€ replied Mrs. Sampson, ā€œbut ā€˜eā€™s gone out, anā€™ wonā€™t be back till the arternoon, which any messige ā€˜ull be delivered to ā€˜im punctual on ā€˜is arrival.ā€

ā€œIā€™m glad heā€™s not in,ā€ said Mr. Gorby. ā€œWould you allow me to have a few momentsā€™ conversation?ā€

ā€œWhat is it?ā€ asked the landlady, her curiosity being roused.

ā€œIā€™ll tell you when we get inside,ā€ answered Mr. Gorby.

She looked at him with her sharp little eyes, and seeing nothing disreputable about him, led the way upstairs, crackling loudly the whole time. This so astonished Mr. Gorby that he cast about in his own mind for an explanation of the phenomenon.

ā€œWants oiling about the jints,ā€ was his conclusion, ā€œbut I never heard anything like it, and she looks as if sheā€™d snap in two, sheā€™s that brittle.ā€

Mrs. Sampson took Gorby into Brianā€™s sitting-room, and having closed the door, sat down and prepared to hear what he had to say for himself.

ā€œI ā€˜ope it ainā€™t bills,ā€ she said. ā€œMr. Fitzgerald ā€˜avinā€™ money in the bank, and everythinā€™ respectable like a gentleman as ā€˜e is, thoā€™, to be sure, your bill might come down on him unbeknown, ā€˜e not ā€˜avinā€™ kept it in mind, which it ainā€™t everybody as ā€˜ave sich a good memory as my aunt on my motherā€™s side, she ā€˜avinā€™ been famous for ā€˜er dates like a ā€˜istory, not to speak of ā€˜er multiplication tables, and the numbers of peopleā€™s ā€˜ouses.ā€

ā€œItā€™s not bills,ā€ answered Mr. Gorby, who, having vainly attempted to stem the shrill torrent of words, had given in, and waited mildly until she had finished; ā€œI only want to know a few things about Mr. Fitzgeraldā€™s habits.ā€

ā€œAnd what for?ā€ asked Mrs. Sampson, indignantly. ā€œAre you a noospaper a-putinā€™ in articles about people who donā€™t want to see ā€˜emselves in print, which I knows your ā€˜abits, my late ā€˜usband ā€˜avinā€™ bin a printer on a paper which bust up, not ā€˜avinā€™ the money to pay wages, throā€™ which, there was doo to him the sum of one pound seven and sixpence halfpenny, which I, beinā€™ ā€˜is widder, ought to ā€˜ave, not that I expects to see it on this side of the graveā€”oh, dear, no!ā€ and she gave a shrill, elfish laugh.

Mr. Gorby, seeing that unless he took the bull by the horns, he would never be able to get what he wanted, grew desperate, and plunged in MEDIAS RES.

ā€œI am an insurance agent,ā€ he said, rapidly, so as to prevent any interruption, ā€œand Mr. Fitzgerald desires to insure his life in our company. I, therefore, want to find out if he is a good life to insure; does he live temperately? keep early hours? and, in fact, all about him?ā€

ā€œI shall be ā€˜appy to answer any enquiries which may be of use to you, sir,ā€ replied Mrs. Sampson; ā€œknowinā€™ as I do, ā€˜ow good a insurance is to a family, should the ā€˜ead of it be taken off unexpected, leavinā€™ a widder, which, as I know, Mr. Fitzgerald is a-goinā€™ to be married soon, anā€™ I ā€˜opes ā€˜eā€™ll be ā€˜appy, thoā€™ throā€™ it I loses a lodger as ā€˜as allays paid regler, anā€™ beā€™aved like a gentleman.ā€

ā€œSo he is a temperate man?ā€ said Mr. Gorby, feeling his way cautiously.

ā€œNot beinā€™ a blue ribbing all the same,ā€ answered Mrs. Sampson; ā€œand I never saw him the wuss for drink, ā€˜e being allays able to use his latch-key, and take ā€˜is boots off afore going to bed, which is no more than a woman ought to expect from a lodger, she ā€˜avinā€™ to do ā€˜er own washinā€™.ā€

ā€œAnd he keeps good hours?ā€

ā€œAllays in afore the clock strikes twelve,ā€ answered the landlady; ā€œthoā€™, to be sure, I uses it as a figger of speech, none of the clocks in the ā€˜ouse strikinā€™ but one, which is beinā€™ mended, ā€˜avinā€™ broke through overwindinā€™.ā€

ā€œIs he always in before twelve?ā€ asked Mr. Gorby, keenly disappointed at this answer.

Mrs. Sampson eyed him waggishly, and a smile crept over her wrinkled little face.

ā€œYoung men, not beinā€™ old men,ā€ she replied, cautiously, ā€œand sinners not beinā€™ saints, itā€™s not nattral as latch-keys should be made for ornament instead of use, and Mr. Fitzgerald beinā€™ one of the ā€˜andsomest men in Melbourne, it ainā€™t to be expected as ā€˜e should let ā€˜is latch-key git rusty, thoā€™ ā€˜avinā€™ a good moral character, ā€˜e uses it with moderation.ā€

ā€œBut I suppose you are seldom awake when he comes in really late,ā€ said the detective.

ā€œNot as a rule,ā€ assented Mrs. Sampson; ā€œbeinā€™ a ā€˜eavy sleeper, and much disposed for bed, but I ā€˜ave ā€˜eard ā€˜im come in arter twelve, the last time beinā€™ Thursday week.ā€

ā€œAh!ā€ Mr. Gorby drew a long breath, for Thursday week was the night upon which the murder was committed.

ā€œBeinā€™ troubled with my ā€˜ead,ā€ said Mrs. Sampson, ā€œthroā€™ ā€˜avinā€™ been out in the sun all day a-washinā€™, I did not feel so partial to my bed that night as in general, so went down to the kitching with the intent of getting a linseed poultice to put at the back of my ā€˜ead, it being calculated to remove pain, as was told to me, when a nuss, by a doctor in the horspital, ā€˜e now beinā€™ in business for hisself, at Geelong, with a large family, ā€˜avinā€™ married early. Just as I was leavinā€™ the kitching I ā€˜eard Mr. Fitzgerald a-cominā€™ in, and, turninā€™ round, looked at the clock, that ā€˜avinā€™ been my custom when my late ā€˜usband came in, in the early morninā€™, I beinā€™ a-preparinā€™ ā€˜is meal.ā€

ā€œAnd the time was?ā€ asked Mr. Gorby, breathlessly.

ā€œFive minutes to two oā€™clock,ā€ replied Mrs. Sampson. Mr. Gorby thought for a moment.

ā€œCab was hailed at one oā€™clockā€”started for St. Kilda at about ten minutes pastā€”reached Grammar School, say, at twenty-five minutes pastā€”Fitzgerald talks five minutes to cabman, making it halfpastā€”say, he waited ten minutes for other cab to turn up, makes it twenty minutes to twoā€”it would take another twenty minutes to get to East Melbourneā€”and five minutes to walk up hereā€”that makes it five minutes past two instead of beforeā€”confound it. ā€˜Was your clock in the kitchen right?ā€™ā€ he asked, aloud.

ā€œWell, I think so,ā€ answered Mrs. Sampson. ā€œIt does get a little slow sometimes, not ā€˜avinā€™ been cleaned for some time, which my nevy beinā€™ a watchmaker I allays ā€˜ands it over to ā€˜im.ā€

ā€œOf course it was slow on that night,ā€ said Gorby, triumphantly.

ā€œHe must have come in at five minutes past twoā€”which makes it right.ā€

ā€œMakes what right?ā€ asked the landlady, sharply. ā€œAnd ā€˜ow do you know my clock was ten minutes wrong?ā€

ā€œOh, it was, was it?ā€ asked Gorby, eagerly.

ā€œIā€™m not denyinā€™ of it,ā€ replied Mrs. Sampson; ā€œclocks ainā€™t allays to be relied on more than men anā€™ womenā€”but it wonā€™t be anythinā€™ agin ā€˜is insurance, will it, as in general ā€˜eā€™s in afore twelve?ā€

ā€œOh, all that will be quite safe,ā€ answered the detective, delighted with the information he had obtained. ā€œIs this Mr. Fitzgeraldā€™s room?ā€

ā€œYes, it is,ā€ replied the landlady; ā€œbut ā€˜e furnished it ā€˜imself, beinā€™ of a luxurus turn of mind, not but what ā€˜is taste is good, thoā€™ far be it from me to deny I ā€˜elped ā€˜im to select; but ā€˜avinā€™ another room of the same to let, any friends as you might ā€˜ave in search of a ā€˜ome ā€˜ud be well looked arter, my references beinā€™ very ā€˜igh, anā€™ my cookinā€™ tastyā€”anā€™ ifā€”ā€

Here a ring at the front door bell called Mrs. Sampson away, so with a hurried word to Gorby she crackled downstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Gorby arose and looked round the room. It was excellently furnished, and the pictures were good. At one end of the room, by the window, there was a writing-table covered with papers.

ā€œItā€™s no good looking for the papers he took out of Whyteā€™s pocket, I suppose,ā€ said the detective to himself, as he turned over some letters, ā€œas I donā€™t know what they are, and I couldnā€™t tell them if I saw them; but Iā€™d like to find that missing glove and the bottle that held the chloroformā€”unless heā€™s done away with them. There doesnā€™t seem any sign of them here, so Iā€™ll have a look in his bedroom.ā€

There was no time to lose, as Mrs. Sampson might return at any moment, so Mr. Gorby walked quickly into the bedroom, which opened off the sitting-room. The first thing that caught the detectiveā€™s eye was a large photograph, in a plush frame, of Madge Frettlby. It stood on the dressing-table, and was similar to that one which he had already seen in Whyteā€™s album. He took it up with a laugh.

ā€œYouā€™re a pretty girl,ā€ he said, apostrophising the picture, ā€œbut you give your photograph to two

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