ore,
don't know what he's up to. Another gent who is on the square comes up
and sings out for a cab for him--first he says he don't know him, and
then he shows plainly he does--he walks away in a temper, changes his
mind, comes back and gets into the cab, after telling the cabby to
drive down to St. Kilda. Then he polishes the drunk one off with
chloroform, gets out of the cab, jumps into another, and after getting
out at Powlett Street, vanishes--that's the riddle I've got to find
out, and I don't think the Sphinx ever had a harder one. There are
three things to be discovered--First, who is the dead man? Second, what
was he killed for? And third, who did it?

"Once I get hold of the first the other two won't be very hard to find
out, for one can tell pretty well from a man's life whether it's to
anyone's interest that he should be got off the books. The man that
murdered that chap must have had some strong motive, and I must find
out what that motive was. Love? No, it wasn't that--men in love don't
go to such lengths in real life--they do in novels and plays, but I've
never seen it occurring in my experience. Robbery? No, there was plenty
of money in his pocket. Revenge? Now, really it might be that--it's a
kind of thing that carries most people further than they want to go.
There was no violence used, for his clothes, weren't torn, so he must
have been taken sudden, and before he knew what the other chap was up
to. By the way, I don't think I examined his clothes sufficiently,
there might be something about them to give a clue; at any rate it's
worth looking after, so I'll start with his clothes."

So Mr. Gorby, having dressed and breakfasted, walked quickly to the
police station, where he asked for the clothes of the deceased to be
shown to him. When he received them he retired into a corner, and
commenced an exhaustive examination of them.

There was nothing remarkable about the coat. It was merely a well-cut
and well-made dress coat; so with a grunt of dissatisfaction Mr. Gorby
threw it aside, and picked up the waistcoat. Here he found something to
interest him, in the shape of a pocket made on the left-hand side and
on the inside, of the garment.

"Now, what the deuce is this for?" said Mr. Gorby, scratching his head;
"it ain't usual for a dress waistcoat to have a pocket on its inside as
I'm aware of; and," continued the detective, greatly excited, "this
ain't tailor's work, he did it himself, and jolly badly