‘Where he now is,’ said Gollipeck, quickly, looking at him. ‘I presume so,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily. ‘After the trial I never bothered my head about him.’ ‘He poisoned his mistress, Adele Blondet,’ said the doctor. ‘Yes,’ answered Vandeloup, leaning forward and looking at Gollipeck, ‘he found she was in love with an Englishman, and poisoned her--you will find it all in the book.’ ‘It does not mention the Englishman,’ said the doctor, thoughtfully tapping the table with his hand. ‘Nevertheless he was implicated in it, but went away from Paris the day Braulard was arrested,’ answered Vandeloup. ‘The police tried to find him, but could not; if they had, it might have made some difference to the prisoner.’ ‘And the name of this Englishman?’ ‘Let me see,’ said Vandeloup, looking up reflectively; ‘I almost forget it--Kestroke or Kestrike, some name like that. He must have been a very clever man to have escaped the French police.’ ‘Ah, hum!’ said the doctor, rubbing his nose, ‘very interesting indeed; strange case!’ ‘Very,’ assented M. Vandeloup, as he arose to go, ‘I must say good-bye now, doctor; but I am coming up to Ballarat on a visit shortly.’ ‘Ah, hum! of course,’ replied Gollipeck, also rising, ‘and we can have another talk over this book.’ ‘That or any book you like,’ said Vandeloup, with a glance of surprise; ‘but I don’t see why you are so much taken up with that volume; it is not a work of genius.’ ‘Well, no,’ answered Gollipeck, looking at him; ‘still, it contains some excellent cases of modern poisoning.’ ‘So I saw when I read it,’ returned Vandeloup, indifferently. ‘Good-bye,’ holding out his hand, ‘or rather I should say au revoir.’ ‘Wine?’ queried the Doctor, hospitably. Vandeloup shook his head, and walked out of the room with a gay smile, humming a tune. He strolled slowly down Lydiard Street, turning over in his mind what the doctor had said to him. ‘He is suspicious,’ muttered the young man to himself, thoughtfully, ‘although he has nothing to go on in connecting me with the case. Should I use the poison here I must be careful, for that man will be my worst enemy.’ He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning round saw Barty Jarper before him. That fashionable young man was in evening dress, and represented such an extent of shirt front and white waistcoat,--not to mention a tall collar, on the top of which his little head was perched like a cocoanut on a stick,--that he was positively resplendent. ‘Where are you going to?’ asked the gorgeous Barty, smoothing his incipient moustache. ‘Well, I really don’t know,’ answered Vandeloup, lighting a cigarette. ‘I am leaving for Melbourne to-morrow morning, but to-night I have nothing to do. You, I see, are engaged,’ with a glance at the evening dress. ‘Yes,’ returned Barty, in a bored voice; ‘musical party on,--they want me to sing.’