"Much virtue in 'if,'" quoted Calton, picking up a pencil, and scribbling idly on his blotting paper. "And to whom does your suspicion point?" "Aha!" said Mr. Kilsip, cautiously. "Don't know him," answered the other, coolly; "family name Humbug, I presume. Bosh! Whom do you suspect?" Kilsip looked round cautiously, as if to make sure they were alone, and then said, in a stage whisper-- "Roger Moreland!" "That was the young man that gave evidence as to how Whyte got drunk?" Kilsip nodded. "Well, and how do you connect him with the murder?" "Do you remember in the evidence given by the cabmen, Royston and Rankin, they both swore that the man who was with Whyte on that night wore a diamond ring on the forefinger of the right hand?" "What of that? Nearly every second man in Melbourne wears a diamond ring?" "But not on the forefinger of the right hand." "Oh! And Moreland wears a ring in that way?" "Yes!" "Merely a coincidence. Is that all your proof?" "All I can obtain at present." "It's very weak," said Calton, scornfully. "The weakest proofs may form a chain to hang a man," observed Kilsip, sententiously. "Moreland gave his evidence clearly enough," said Calton, rising, and pacing the room. "He met Whyte; they got drunk together. Whyte went out of the hotel, and shortly afterwards Moreland followed with the coat, which was left behind by Whyte, and then someone snatched it from him." "Ah, did they?" interrupted Kilsip, quickly. "So Moreland says," said Calton, stopping short. "I understand; you think Moreland was not so drunk as he would make out, and that after following Whyte outside, he put on his coat, and got into the cab with him." "That is my theory." "It's ingenious enough," said the barrister; "but why should Moreland murder Whyte? What motive had he?" "Those papers--" "Pshaw! another idea of Gorby's," said Calton, angrily. "How do you know there were any papers?" The fact is, Calton did not intend Kilsip to know that Whyte really had papers until he heard what Fitzgerald had to tell him. "And another thing," said Calton, resuming his walk, "if your theory is correct, which I don't think it is, what became of Whyte's coat? Has Moreland got it?" "No, he has not," answered the detective, decisively. "You seem very positive about it," said the lawyer, after a moment's pause. "Did you ask Moreland about it?" A reproachful look came into Kilsip's white face. "Not quite so green," he said, forcing a smile. "I thought you'd a better opinion of me than that, Mr. Calton. Ask him?--no." "Then how did you find out?" "The fact is, Moreland is employed as a barman in the Kangaroo Hotel." "A barman!" echoed Calton; "and he came out here as a gentleman of independent fortune. Why, hang it, man, that in itself is sufficient to prove that he had no motive to murder Whyte. Moreland pretty well lived on Whyte, so what could have induced him to kill his golden goose, and become a barman--pshaw! the idea is absurd."