“Frettlby,” said Calton, decidedly.

“No, Moreland,” burst out Chinston, greatly excited.

“Neither,” retorted the detective, calmly.  “The man who purchased this was Oliver Whyte himself.”

“Himself?” echoed Brian, now thoroughly surprised, as, indeed were all the others.

“Yes.  I had no trouble in finding out that, thanks to the ’Poisons Act.’  As I knew no one would be so foolish as to carry chloroform about in his pocket for any length of time, I mentioned the day of the murder as the probable date it was bought.  The chemist turned up in his book, and found that Whyte was the purchaser.”

“And what did he buy it for?” asked Chinston.

“That’s more than I can tell you,” said Kilsip, with a shrug of his shoulders.  “It’s down in the book as being bought for medicinal uses, which may mean anything.”

“The law requires a witness,” observed Calton, cautiously.  “Who was the witness?”

Again Kilsip smiled triumphantly.

“I think I can guess,” said Fitzgerald.  “Moreland?”

Kilsip nodded.

“And I suppose,” remarked Calton, in a slightly sarcastic tone, “that is another of your proofs against Moreland.  He knew that Whyte had chloroform on him, therefore he followed him that night and murdered him?”

“Well, I—­”

“It’s a lot of nonsense,” said the barrister, impatiently.  “There’s nothing against Moreland to implicate him.  If he killed Whyte, what made him go and see Frettlby?”

“But,” said Kilsip, sagely nodding his head, “if, as Moreland Bays, he had Whyte’s coat in his possession before the murder how is it that I should discover it afterwards up a fir-tree in the Fitzroy Gardens, with an empty chloroform bottle in the pocket.”

“He may have been an accomplice,” suggested Calton.

“What’s the good of all this conjecturing?” said Chinston, impatiently, now thoroughly tired of the discussion.  “Read the confession, and we will soon know the truth, without all this talk.”

Calton assented, and all having settled themselves to listen, he began to read what the dead man had written.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE CONFESSION.

“What I am now about to write is set forth by me so that the true circumstances connected with the ‘Hansom Cab Tragedy,’ which took place in Melbourne in 18—­, may be known.  I owe a confession, particularly to Brian Fitzgerald, seeing that he was accused of the crime.  Although I know he was rightfully acquitted of the charge, yet I wish him to know all about the case, though I am convinced, from his altered demeanour towards me, that he is better acquainted with it than he chooses to confess.  In order to account for the murder of Oliver Whyte, I must go back to the beginning of my life in this colony, and show how the series of events began which culminated in the committal of the crime.