M. Vandeloup’s rooms in Clarendon Street, East Melbourne, were very luxuriously and artistically furnished, in perfect accordance with the taste of their owner, but as the satiated despot is depicted by the moralists as miserable amid all his splendour, so M. Gaston Vandeloup, though not exactly miserable, was very ill at ease. The inquest had been adjourned until the Government analyst, assisted by Dr Gollipeck, had examined the stomach, and according to a paragraph in the evening paper, some strange statements, implicating various people, would be made next day. It was this that made Vandeloup so uneasy, for he knew that Dr Gollipeck would trace a resemblance between the death of Selina Sprotts in Melbourne and Adele Blondet in Paris, and then the question would arise how the poison used in the one case came to be used in the other. If that question arose it would be all over with him, for he would not dare to face any examination, and as discretion is the better part of valour, M. Vandeloup decided to leave the country. With his usual foresight he had guessed that Dr Gollipeck would be mixed up in the affair, so had drawn his money out of all securities in which it was invested, sent most of it to America to a New York bank, reserving only a certain sum for travelling purposes. He was going to leave Melbourne next morning by the express train for Sydney, and there would catch the steamer to San Francisco via New Zealand and Honolulu. Once in America and he would be quite safe, and as he now had plenty of money he could enjoy himself there. He had given up the idea of marrying Madame Midas, as he dare not run the risk of remaining in Australia, but then there were plenty of heiresses in the States he could marry if he chose, so to give her up was a small matter. Another thing, he would be rid of Pierre Lemaire, for once let him put the ocean between him and the dumb man he would take care they never met again. Altogether, M. Vandeloup had taken all precautions to secure his own safety with his usual promptitude and coolness, but notwithstanding that another twelve hours would see him on his way to Sydney en route for the States, he felt slightly uneasy, for as he often said, ‘There are always possibilities.’

It was about eight o’clock at night, and Gaston was busy in his rooms packing up to go away next morning. He had disposed of his apartments to Bellthorp, as that young gentleman had lately come in for some money and was dissatisfied with the paternal roof, where he was kept too strictly tied up.

Vandeloup, seated in his shirt sleeves in the midst of a chaos of articles of clothing, portmanteaux, and boxes, was, with the experience of an accomplished traveller, rapidly putting these all away in the most expeditious and neatest manner. He wanted to get finished before ten o’clock, so that he could go down to his club and show himself, in order to obviate any suspicion as to his going away. He did not intend to send out any P.P.C. cards, as he was a modest young man and wanted to slip unostentatiously out of the country; besides, there was nothing like precaution, as the least intimation of his approaching departure would certainly put Dr Gollipeck on the alert and cause trouble. The gas was lighted, there was a bright glare through all the room, and everything was in confusion, with M. Vandeloup seated in the centre, like Marius amid the ruins of Carthage. While thus engaged there came a ring at the outer door, and shortly afterwards Gaston’s landlady entered his room with a card.

‘A gentleman wants to see you, sir,’ she said, holding out the card.

‘I’m not at home,’ replied Vandeloup, coolly, removing the cigarette he was smoking from his mouth; ‘I can’t see anyone tonight.’

‘He says you’d like to see him, sir,’ answered the woman, standing at the door.

‘The deuce he does,’ muttered Vandeloup, uneasily; ‘I wonder what this pertinacious gentleman’s name is? and he glanced at the card, whereon was written ‘Dr Gollipeck’.

Vandeloup felt a chill running through him as he rose to his feet. The battle was about to begin, and he knew he would need all his wit and skill to get himself out safely. Dr Gollipeck had thrown down the gauntlet, and he would have to pick it up. Well, it was best to know the worst at once, so he told the landlady he would see Gollipeck downstairs. He did not want him to come up there, as he would see all the evidences of his intention to leave the country.

‘I’ll see him downstairs,’ he said, sharply, to the landlady; ‘ask the gentleman to wait.’

The landlady, however, was pushed roughly to one side, and Dr Gollipeck, rusty and dingy-looking as ever, entered the room.

‘No need, my dear friend,’ he said in his grating voice, blinking at the young man through his spectacles, ‘we can talk here.’

Vandeloup signed to the landlady to leave the room, which she did, closing the door after her, and then, pulling himself together with a great effort, he advanced smilingly on the doctor.

‘Ah, my dear Monsieur,’ he said, in his musical voice, holding out both hands, ‘how pleased I am to see you.’

Dr Gollipeck gurgled pleasantly in his throat at this and laughed, that is, something apparently went wrong in his inside and a rasping noise came out of his mouth.

‘You clever young man,’ he said, affectionately, to Gaston, as he unwound a long crimson woollen scarf from his throat, and thereby caused a button to fly off his waistcoat with the exertion. Dr Gollipeck, however, being used to these little eccentricities of his toilet, pinned the waistcoat together, and then, sitting down, spread his red bandanna handkerchief over his knees, and stared steadily at Vandeloup, who had put on a loose velvet smoking coat, and, with a cigarette in his mouth, was leaning against the mantelpiece. It was raining outside, and the pleasant patter of the raindrops was quite audible in the stillness of the room, while every now and then a gust of wind would make the windows rattle, and shake the heavy green curtains. The two men eyed one another keenly, for they both knew they had an unpleasant quarter of an hour before them, and were like two clever fencers — both watching their opportunity to begin the combat. Gollipeck, with his greasy coat, all rucked up behind his neck, and his frayed shirt cuffs coming down on his ungainly hands, sat sternly silent, so Vandeloup, after contemplating him for a few moments, had to begin the battle.

‘My room is untidy, is it not?’ he said, nodding his head carelessly at the chaos of furniture. ‘I’m going away for a few days.’

‘A few days; ha, ha!’ observed Gollipeck, something again going wrong with his inside. ‘Your destination is —

‘Sydney,’ replied Gaston, promptly.

‘And then?’ queried the doctor.

Gaston shrugged his shoulders.

‘Depends upon circumstances,’ he answered, lazily.

‘That’s a mistake,’ retorted Gollipeck, leaning forward; ‘it depends upon me.’

Vandeloup smiled.

‘In that case, circumstances, as represented by you, will permit me to choose my own destinations.’

‘Depends entirely upon your being guided by circumstances, as represented by me,’ retorted the Doctor, grimly.

‘Pshaw!’ said the Frenchman, coolly, ‘let us have done with allegory, and come to common sense. What do you want?’

‘I want Octave Braulard,’ said Gollipeck, rising to his feet.

Vandeloup quite expected this, and was too clever to waste time in denying his identity.

‘He stands before you,’ he answered, curtly, ‘what then?’

‘You acknowledge, then, that you are Octave Braulard, transported to New Caledonia for the murder of Adele Blondet?’ said the Doctor tapping the table with one hand.

‘To you — yes,’ answered Vandeloup, crossing to the door and locking it; ‘to others — no.’

‘Why do you lock the door?’ asked Gollipeck, gruffly.

‘I don’t want my private affairs all over Melbourne,’ retorted Gaston, smoothly, returning to his position in front of the fireplace; ‘are you afraid?’

Something again went wrong with Dr Gollipeck’s inside, and he grated out a hard ironical laugh.

‘Do I look afraid?’ he asked, spreading out his hands.

Vandeloup stooped down to the portmanteau lying open at his feet, and picked up a revolver, which he pointed straight at Gollipeck.

‘You make an excellent target,’ he observed, quickly, putting his finger on the trigger.

Dr Gollipeck sat down, and arranged his handkerchief once more over his knees.

‘Very likely,’ he answered, coolly, ‘but a target you won’t practise on.’

‘Why not?’ asked Vandeloup, still keeping his finger on the trigger.

‘Because the pistol-shot would alarm the house,’ said Gollipeck, serenely, ‘and if I was found dead, you would be arrested for my murder. If I was only wounded I could tell a few facts about M. Octave Braulard that would have an unpleasant influence on the life of M. Gaston Vandeloup.’

Vandeloup laid the pistol down on the mantelpiece with a laugh, lit a cigarette, and, sitting down in a chair opposite Gollipeck, began to talk.

‘You are a brave man,’ he said, coolly blowing a wreath of smoke, ‘I admire brave men.’

‘You are a clever man,’ retorted the doctor; ‘I admire clever men.’

‘Very good,’ said Vandeloup, crossing one leg over the other. ‘As we now understand one another, I await your explanation of this visit.’

Dr Gollipeck, with a............